The waitress takes our empty plates away and Cleo stands. Sam moves to stand with her. “I’m going to the toilet.”
He runs a hand over the back of his head and glances at Amalee. “I’ll escort you.”
“I can manage to find a toilet, Sam. I’ll be sure to holler if I need help wiping.”
He freezes, and before he can reply, she’s gone, weaving through the crowded bar and disappearing from sight. I keep my gaze locked on a couple of guys I recognize, although they’re not locals. They aren’t wearing their cuts, but I’d spot that pair of idiots anywhere.
Cleo comes bouncing through the crowd, her tiny frame pushing through the heavy throng. Sam swings his gaze over his shoulder, tracking his date. My eyes narrow as one of the bikers eyeballs Cleo’s ass, and I note the exact moment he makes a stupid decision to grab it. Sam also notices and rises like he’s got the stones to do something about it. He doesn’t, but I grab his shoulder to hold him back. The least I can do for his ego is to make him think he would have intervened. Cleo’s face reddens. She spins, says something to him, and clocks him in the jaw.
“Holy fuck,” Sam mutters.
“I think I have my first lady crush,” Amalee adds.
The biker rubs his jaw and smiles down at her like she just offered to suck his cock. Violence is their love language, and she just propositioned him. I stride past Sam and snake my arm around Cleo’s waist, dragging her back into me. Her round ass bounces against my hard cock, and she shuffles to the side to try to avoid it. Jesus, those heels make her fit against me in unholy ways. Images of bending her over while she’s wearing these sinful heels are doing nothing to tamper my raging erection. I plaster her against me, making those perfect globes rub against me. “Fox!” Mark hollers. “Is this tiny ball of fury yours?”
I grip Cleo’s hip, trying like hell to communicate that I’m trying to help her by staking my claim. “She is, and if you like your balls where they are, you’ll keep your hands off her.”
Hunter’s gaze eats her up. He’s not as rash or easy going as his brother, but that one look is far more worrying than the assgrab Mark did. Hunter is wondering, after knowing me for all these years, what kind of woman has finally got me to stake a claim in public.
“Just a little harmless fun,” Mark volleys. “Come drink with us and catch up.”
Cleo squirms in my arms.
“Behave,” I breathe in her ear before nipping it. She jolts against me, and her fingernails dig into my forearm.
“Fox,” she breathes. “Please, I can’t. Not here.”
That has my attention. Can’t what? And since when did my firecracker beg?
CHAPTER 32
HONOR
Stripped bare, am I enough?
Iregret so many of my life choices right now, but the biggest is giving Fox that remote control. Why in the ever-loving fuck did he choose now to turn it on? I want to strangle him, but the blood rushing to my core has all of my attention.
The burly guy who thought it wise to grab my ass frowns at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I snort. Isn’t that the pertinent question. I spin in Fox’s arms to hide my face, and my hand snakes into his jeans pocket. He stiffens as I brush his erection. Jesus Christ, he’s rocking a monster. My fingers clasp the remote, and I drag it out before clicking the off button. I sag against him as I let the impending orgasm disappear, dragging in breaths as I pull myself together. I push my shoulders back and spin again to face the guy who grabbed my ass. Mark.
“Sorry, cramps. You know how it is.”
Hunter snorts from his position on the bar stool, his gazelasered on my hand that’s curled around the remote. “Nice deflection, but we all know what was going on here.”
“Do we?” Mark asks, looking between us with a frown.
I raise a brow, daring him to say it. He shakes his head and lifts his gaze to Fox. “Best take your lady home before we kidnap her and finish what you started.”
Mark reaches toward me. I raise my aching hand, ready to explain to him in a language he understands why touching a woman without permission is wrong. Then I’m being twisted and hauled over a shoulder.
“Put me down,” I huff as Fox carts me out of the door. I give Mark and Hunter a one finger salute before we spill out into the night air.
Sam bursts out of the door behind us. Oh, nice save. My hero. He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Amalee wants to go home. Do you want me to take you? Or…” He looks at Fox’s hand plastered against my ass to keep me in position. “Right.”
I feel a stab of guilt and tap Fox’s back. “Put me down. Sam, I need to have a very honest chat with you.”
“You promise not to start a bar fight with a seasoned biker?”
