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I feel Jett’s eyes on me, so I make a point to rejoice under his gaze. My tongue slips out of my mouth slowly, the lick sexy and intentional. The size of the shot is way bigger than I’d expected, so a small trickle of tequila slips down the side of my chin as I toss it back. Still, I don’t back down, cooling the burn with the lime.
Once I’ve finished, I plop the glass on the counter, harder than I intended. The gesture makes a few heads swivel in my direction. Those who weren’t looking are now following the rest of the eyes dialed in on me. But it’s the furious brown eyes from my fake boyfriend that light me up.
Licking my lips, I flip my hair over my shoulder, but not before passing a wink to Jett.
Fuck going back to the hotel, I want to dance.
The beat of the music hits me as soon as I find a spot in the center of the dance floor. As the beat of the song drops, so do my hips.
I’ve missed dancing in this way. Just moving my body for the hell of it. I love choreography, love all the opportunities, but sometimes, I miss simply feeling my body move for me.
Maybe that’s why coaching felt so healing. The girls on my youth team dance because they love it. No one’s holding expectations over their heads, or self-proclaimed pressure you inevitably give yourself as you grow.
They just love to dance.
“Damn, girl.”
My movement slows. A manly voice in the distance feels near, but not close enough to spark a warning.
I lose myself on the dance floor, escaping the last several moments, replacing my responsibilities with my passion.
The song continues to thump around me, and the spotlight that I was hanging onto darkens. A pair of unfamiliar hands snake around my midsection. Something soft and round, paired with the feeling of something hard, hits me in the center of my back.
My body stiffens, the all too familiar panic slithering beneath my skin.
“You look so damn good dancing out here. I had to come shoot my shot,” a gruff voice slurs in my ear, and I quickly whip my head to find the unfamiliar man attached to it.
“Get off me!” I yell, but the music is too loud.
“C’mon, sweetheart. You’re basically asking for it dancing like this.” He grunts, and it’s the definition of perverted.
I instantly rip his hand from my body. Stumbling forward, I snap my eyes shut, bracing for embarrassment, but instead run into something chiseled and hard.
Cedar, smoke, and the faint scent of lavender waft around me. My hand presses softly as my eyes follow to find the firm chest of my fake boyfriend.
“You okay?” he whispers so only I can hear.
I nod, overcome with emotion.
Tensing under his stare, I feel slightly agitated that I can’t ever seem to stop walking into the traps men have set up for me—or perhaps my vexation stems from the fact that the who feels safe was just surrounded by a flock of ogling women, and I refuse to be another addition to his list.
“I got this one, brother,” the drunk man says to Jett.
When I look up at the man still holding on to me, all I see is black coating his usually honey-brown eyes.
Gently, Jett shifts me so that I’m behind him. Away from the deranged man on the dance floor.
“And what exactly do you have about this one?” His head cocks, humor and something way more cynical spewing from his lips.
“Did you see the way she was moving? I’ve got to find out if she can do that without that sexy dress on.”
The man stalks toward me, but Jett’s stiff arm stops him before he gets too close.
My god, he’s belligerent.
Jett laughs in front of me, but it’s hollow and ends abruptly. The man doesn’t notice the act Jett is putting on, but everyone surrounding us sees very clearly what’s happening.
He steps forward, placing himself directly in the drunk man’s face. Jett’s height towers over him, and still, the idiot has no fear.
