Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50877 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Stu’s disconcerting energy was putting me on edge, and it would be far too easy to down my vodka in an attempt to soothe my mounting nervousness. I knew my anxiety level wasn’t rational, and I wished Jayme was at my side. My bestie always grounded me when she sensed I was about to spiral.
My gaze flicked to the crowded dance floor, searching for her.
Stu snatched my attention back immediately, wrapping his hand around my chilled cup. His fingers closed over mine, but my small shudder at his touch was nothing like the shiver that Joseph had elicited. The gorgeous bartender’s hand had been calloused and steady, his heat sinking into my skin to warm my insides. Stu’s fingers were cold and clammy from holding his frosted pint glass.
Before I could recoil, he boldly firmed his grip and lifted my drink toward his lips. I gaped at him as he took a sip without asking. He didn’t release my hand, holding my fingers captive around the cup.
Before I could formulate an indignant response, he grimaced and lowered the sweet drink. I huffed out a small, relieved breath when he finally slid his fingers from mine so that he could set my cup down on the high-topped table beside me.
“No wonder you’re barely sipping that cheap shit.” His nose wrinkled. “I know this place is a dive, but they could expand their liquor selection. My IPA is decent, though. We can share.”
He lifted his glass and reached for me, trying to get me to mirror the way he’d tasted my drink.
I snatched my hand away before he could make contact. I didn’t want to feel his clammy fingers clamp over mine again. “No, thanks.”
“Come on, Ashlyn. Don’t be like that.”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head, not caring for the peer pressure.
He’s just flirting, I told myself as I attempted to smother my unease. His proprietary touches were making my stomach knot, but that anxiety was unreasonable. Wasn’t it?
Just last weekend, I’d practically wrapped myself around him while we made out. He wasn’t some creepy stranger. There was no reason for me to interpret his nearness as anything other than confident flirtation.
I’d allowed him to get me drunk before, but I was more clearheaded this time. I didn’t want to repeat the experience, and I definitely didn’t want to repeat the wicked hangover.
“Okay, then.” He set his beer down on the table. He was still smiling, and I managed a small smile in return.
I didn’t want my anxiety to rule my life, and I knew I’d regret it if I allowed my nerves to ruin Stu’s invite to the final club party. Jayme would be so excited when I gave her the news. I focused on my friend’s happiness to dispel the weird vibes that were setting me on edge.
Suddenly, the stale scent of Stu’s IPA washed over my face as he imposed himself in my personal space. I took an instinctive step back and bumped into the barstool behind me. I stumbled, and he caught my upper arms to prevent me from falling.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, embarrassed. I tried to shift away again, but he didn’t let me go.
“I think you owe me a kiss,” he announced, leaning in so his hot breath fanned over my lips. He smelled like beer and cigarettes. My stomach twisted.
“I don’t think so,” I countered, trying to sound firmly assertive. Instead, the refusal came out a little breathlessly. Even though I’d kissed him before, I was distinctly uncomfortable with his nearness and his persistent grip on my arms.
“Don’t be a cocktease. You know you want it.”
My stomach churned as my anxiety soured into fear. This wasn’t simply arrogant flirting. When we’d kissed in a drunken frenzy, his hands had been rough and groping, but I hadn’t exactly been at my best, either. I’d dismissed his pawing as sloppy intoxication.
I wasn’t sure if he was drunk right now, but there was no excuse for calling me a cocktease. My skin crawled where he maintained his firm grip on my upper arms.
“You’re wrong,” I insisted, barely managing to force more than a whispered denial up my constricted throat. “I don’t want this. I want you to let me go.” I tried to twist out of his hold, but he didn’t release me. Instead, he leaned closer.
“Take your hands off her.” The menace in the low, masculine growl made me shudder.
I looked past Stu with wide eyes, searching for my savior. Joseph’s flame-blue gaze burned into the boy who’d trapped me. My mouth went dry, but his fury wasn’t directed at me.
Stu finally let me go so he could face off against Joseph. I quickly put distance between us, my back hitting the wall after a few steps. Stu placed his body in front of mine, blocking me off in a clearly territorial demonstration.