“Oh, c’mon, Lee, don’t play hard to get.” He gripped both my wrists and pinned them at my back forcing my body to arch into his. “You know you want this,” he whispered, biting my neck. His cock hardened, pressing against my stomach.
Bile rose into my throat. My head spun. “Stop it, Wes.” I heard the slur in my words, felt the fight leaving my body. What was happening? Why did I suddenly feel so useless, so lethargic? Wes’ grip tightened around my wrists, and I winced against the pressure. “No!” I grunted, struggling in vain against his hold.
“I promise it’ll be good.” He sucked on my earlobe.
Revulsion filled me. Calling on all the strength I possessed, I angled my right leg back and released in a quick upward movement. My knee connected with his balls.
“Fuck!” he howled, releasing his grip on me as he doubled over and clutched his crotch. “What the fuck, Lee,” He grunted, dropping to the floor.
“I believe when a girl says no, it means no. As in stop your shit and move on,” I said, triumph filling my voice. Lifting my head to look away, I froze, my eyes meeting livid green ones. “Saint?” I gasped, squinting to make sure I wasn’t imagining his appearance. Nope. There he stood, in all his profound glory—a man among boys—all six foot two inches of dominance in a charcoal button down and black jeans. Even in my drunken state I could feel the anger bounce off his stiff shoulders.
Several girls gathered behind Saint, their expressions wistful, their body language pure slut talk. They moved around hoping to catch his attention. He ignored them, his gaze fixated on me.
Somewhere to the side of me, I heard Carter hoot. “The fuck, Wes, can’t you nail a fucking pussy straight. Told you to angle your dick—”
I lost interest in their conversation, my gaze focused in one direction as Saint neared me. “What are you doing here?” I asked when he stood at arms-length. My nostrils flared with his scent, and I was abruptly weak kneed. I stumbled and he reached out a hand to steady me. “Guess I’m a lot more drunk than I thought.” Biting my lip, I couldn’t stop the giggles.
“I’m taking you home,” he said, his tone laced with undisguised impatience.
“No,” I shook my head vehemently. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re awful, insulting...you’re...” I stammered unable to form coherent words.
Saint’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Let’s go, Levana. Now!”
“You can’t make me,” I spluttered.
His chuckle was low, menacing, controlled. “You really want to test me?”
Under normal circumstances, sober me would’ve probably said no, but she was off fanning her pussy from all the heat this man radiated, so drunk me answered with a defiant tilt of her chin, “you’re a bully—”
“That’s it.” Before I could gauge his plan, he bent down, slipped a hand around my thighs and lifted. I yelped as he threw me over his shoulder non-too-gently, my chest hitting the rigid hardness of his back, my loose hair flipped over, hiding my face.
Turning, he took a step forward then I heard someone shout, “hey man, leave her the fuck alone, you’re not taking her anywhere.”
With my vision blocked and my insides wanting to become my outsides, I decided that whoever just threatened Saint, didn’t know the man. And I was right when Saint replied, “watch me.” Despite the quiet words, I picked up the underlying warning in his tone—the grip tightening around my thighs, clearly indicating his rigid stance. “Stop me, and you’ll wish you were still inside your mother’s womb, boy,” the forewarning became a low rumbling growl. My gut clenched at the unconcealed fury. Having first-hand knowledge of the solid muscles beneath his clothes, I knew his words weren’t just a verbal threat. The man was a large and imposing figure without speaking, I could only imagine what his current expression conveyed.
The next response confirmed it. “Okay, chill, bro. She’s all yours.”
Dumbass chicken. I giggled, slapping a hand to my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Saint walked away, leaving behind the roaring music and drunken frat boys. I figured we were out on the roadside by the sudden brush of air over the exposed skin of my thighs. He set me down and when I wobbled to keep upright, he grasped my arm.
“Fuck,” I heard him mutter.
Squinting up at him, I jerked my chin in a ‘what’s up’ gesture then followed his gaze. He’d brought the bike instead of his car. “Oh, shit.” I laughed at the thought of him anchoring me to him with a rope around my waist to keep me from falling over. I think we both knew I wasn’t at my steadiest right now. “I can take a cab,” I tried and got shot down with a scowl.
“Stand still for a second,” he instructed.
“Yes,sir,” I emphasized the title, not missing his sharp intake of breath, and pushed my luck. “I could come from just watching you glower at me. So sexy.” Biting my lower lip, I ran a hand down his chest.
He smacked it away. “Shut up and stand still, Levana,” his no-nonsense tone more pronounced.
Was I getting to him?
“Yes, sir.” This time I smirked, scrutinizing his face for a change in expression. All I got was a blank look. I rolled my eyes. “God, you’re such a buzz kill.”
Ignoring me, he shrugged off his jacket and proceeded to drape it around my shoulders then slipped each of my arms into the sleeves. His scent seeped into my skin, my nostrils, my hair and I breathed in deeply loving the musky mix of spice and mint. It brought up images of his previous touch and delicious mouth. I closed my eyes pretending everything was all right between us and what he’d said at school was a mistake. That he’d come because he was madly, deeply and truly in love with me.
The clearing of his throat had my eyes flying open to find him gazing at me with the strangest look. Gentleness?
As if.
