Page 102 of Wrecked

“I pay for my own drinks.”

He’s pulling a twenty out of the leather. “Let me.”

Pulling a fifty out of my bra, I put it down on the bar before he does. “It’s a thing. I don’t let guys buy me drinks.”

Joe laughs like he thinks what I just said is absurd. “Is this a feminist thing?”

I have no desire to explain to him that it’s a matter of not having to owe him anything in return for buying me a drink, but I don’t. On the other side of the bar, I see a stunningly gorgeous man. He has copper hair and onyx eyes that are staring at us with a look of vengeance like I’ve never seen on him before.

“You know what? I’d love to dance.” I take the change from the bartender, tip her, and shove the rest in my bra. I inhale my drink way too quickly, grab Joe, and escort him to the center of the dance floor.

I don’t want him to touch me, but there’s a game that needs to be played, which means his vile hands are caressing my midsection. I keep mine low, ready to grab his if they roam too far, and dance to the music. I don’t need to look over to see Adam’s hateful gaze because it’s penetrating me like a laser beam of disgust.

Swinging my head back, I let the platinum strands run wild. Joe’s hands are starting to lower, so I bend down with my dance moves, forcing his hands to move up.

I step back, away from his arms. He moves in closer, so I spin to avoid his grasp. He takes ahold of me as soon as I’m back. I really can’t blame him. I am the one who asked him to dance. His mouth juts out as he makes this face, which I’m sure he thinks looks sexy when he dances.

He pulls me in tight, and I push back.

He pulls tighter, and I push back harder.

I think he’s getting the hint until his head moves toward mine, and I divert to the side, giving a strong push and spin away from him.

I’ve twirled my body into the crowd of people and smack directly into the chest of Adam, who grabs me by the wrists and pulls me in close.

“Cut the shit, Leah.”

I pull my arms from his and look at him in the eyes, showing I am not intimidated in the least. “Get your hands off me.”

His face is stern. He’s here for business, and that business is me. “Oh, no, you don’t. You’re coming with me.”

Before I can utter a word, Adam grabs my hand again and puts his other hand under my ass, and then he’s flinging me over his shoulder.

“Put me down!” I shout as Adam carries me off the dance floor. My hair is swaying down over my head.

He pulls down the leather material of my skirt, which I assume is to keep me modest. He should have worried about that when he had me half-undressed against a hundred-year-old spruce.

I kick and scream, but too many people know Adam as the good ole arm of the law. He’s like our very own Andy Griffith. No one is going to argue with him while he’s dragging the sullied Leah Paige out of a club. In fact, people part ways like the Red Sea, and a bouncer even opens the damn door for him.

Nice to know people are looking out for a woman in need. Sheesh.

When we’re outside, my protests are no longer muffled by the loud music. “Let me down, you lying sack of shit!” I bitch and protest as he walks us down the street. “You think ’cause you’re the big, bad cop, you can just do what you want with whoever you want? That you can play God because you have the law on your side? You do not, cannot, and will not do what you wish with me. I have every right to have you arrested for what you did to me!”

I’m still ranting as we walk through the parking lot. “Is this because I was dancing with whatever his name is? What? You can go on not one, but two dates with Jessica, but I can’t dance at a club? I am a very desirable woman, Adam Reingold. Men everywhere want me!”

And, yes, I’m still going as he puts me down by his truck. “And I’ll tell you one other thing. If you think for one minute that this little episode means you can just—”

And I’m silenced.

Adam’s mouth is on mine. It’s not a subtle, gentle kiss. It’s fast, determined, and vicious. His lips and tongue caress me like a dare. I can’t think, let alone remember what the hell it was I was going to say.

His body pushes me up against his truck. His hands snake around my waist, holding me tightly in place like I’m never allowed to leave again.

When he ends the kiss, I am very aware that my eyes are still closed, and my lips are still pursed.

“Finally. Now, it’s my turn to talk,” he says.

My eyes pop open, and I am ready to pounce.