He lifts his head to look at me, where I hover slightly. His turquoise eyes gleam, burning with desire, trapping me in place.
Every single muscle in my body tenses with expectation.
“You need to stop,” he growls, and I pause to realize I’ve gotten carried away, and my hips are moving without my permission.
God, one minute, I’m telling him he can’t touch me; the next, I’m on his lap in the middle of a crowded bar.
Who am I?I think for the millionth time since meeting Harrison.
“This is your fault,” I scoff teasingly. “You make me do crazy things.”
He playfully slaps my ass, then lifts me off his lap onto the bar floor. “Be quick,” he warns, then reaches forward to pull down my jean skirt that’s risen. “Better.”
I roll my eyes, then walk through the bar and stand off to the side to get my bearings. I don’t actually need to use the bathroom, I need a second to think, and I can’t do that when he’s in my presence.
I straighten my jean skirt and re-tuck my white T-shirt that’s gotten skewed from the straddle session.
“Juliette!” a voice I recognize instantly yells through the crowd.
You’ve got to be kidding me right now.
Not knowing which direction his voice is coming from, I turn left, hoping to avoid him. “Hey, wait up,” Hunter says from behind me, swiftly catching up.
Fuck.
“Hi, and bye.” I push through the crowd, trying to make my way back toward the table.
I have no interest in stopping for him, but of course, he follows me, and I realize if I don’t get him to leave me alone, there is a good chance Harrison will kill him if he sees him following me.
The man swears he’s not jealous, yet I’ve never met anyone more green-eyed in my life, and I’ve known Harrison for about two point two minutes.
A burly man cuts in front of me, and I stop to tell Hunter to back the hell up, but he slams into me, causing me to stumble forward.
“Shit, sorry,” he apologizes as he grabs my arm, catching me before I fall. His eyes roam over me. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“What?” I panic.
“You just…wow, you look amazing. Your hair…everything.”
His eyes linger on my bare legs longer than acceptable, and it’s insane how even though we spent four years of our lives together, he’s like a stranger, and I don’t like the feeling he’s giving me.
“You okay, Jules?” I whip my head to the side and realize Hunter is still holding my arm.
I rip it away.
“Everything’s good, Leo. I was heading back to the table,” I reply, ignoring Hunter.
Leo places his arm around me, holding me tightly to his side, and glares at Hunter, “I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”
“It’s fine. He was only helping me,” I cut in, trying to defuse the situation.
“What’s going on over here?” My now favorite deep, gravelly voice booms over the televisions, glancing down at Leo’s arm around my shoulder.
“This guy had his hands on your girl. It’s all under control now. Right?” Leo lifts a questioning brow toward Hunter, who is wide-eyed, staring at Harrison, as he removes Leo’s arm and pulls me into his chest.
The reasonable part of me should be worried about what the guys will do with Hunter, but all my silly brain can think of is how Leo called me Harrison’s girl.
Though, apparently, so is Hunter, “Your girl?” He glares between Harrison and me. “How old is this guy, Jules?”
