Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
The first thing I see as I open the door is a wall of backs. Men crowd around one of the tables, cheering. I crane my neck to see past the head of the guy in front of me and spot a girl dancing on a table.
She’s wearing a skintight black tank top and a matching leather skirt so short it barely covers her ass cheeks. She’s got a great body—tiny waist, with just the barest hint of a round belly, more muscle than fat, and full hips and ass. Thighs a man wants to feel squeezing his head or wrapped around his hips, too. Damn. I get why they’re cheerin’ for her. Good for them, but I’m not interested in letting some sweet little piece of ass crush my heart again.
When she runs her hands over her ass and swings around, her hair whipping with her dance, I see her tits are outstanding, too, and almost falling out of her tank.
Then I get a load of her face and stop breathing.
Allie.
Am I hallucinating? Am I drunk? No, I haven’t even gotten a drink yet.
I shove a couple of guys aside, and they move with no more than a grumble. Getting another look, I grit my teeth. No, it’s definitely her. She’s shaking her ass for a bunch of guys, while they clap to the beat of whatever is playing on the jukebox. I can’t even hear the music, just the bass.
“Lose the shirt!” somebody shouts, and that’s all it takes for everybody else to join the chant. “Lose the shirt! Lose the shirt!”
Oh, like hell she will.
I’m trying to boulder through the men when somebody tugs my sleeve. My head snaps around—I’m ready to throw fists—but it’s only Saint.
“Thank God!” she shouts. Her eyes are wide and wild, her hands shaking as she grasps onto me like I’m the only boat in the middle of the ocean.
“How the hell did this happen?” I demand. The whistling and cheering almost swallow my voice.
“Everything was fine. We were talking, and she kept drinking, like a lot. Then she said she wanted to dance, and I thought she meant on the dance floor, but she climbed up onto a table instead. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen to me. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but she isn’t acting like herself.”
“I would say,” I grumble under my breath.
“Can you get her down from there, please?”
“She got herself up there. Surely, she can get herself down.”
Saint shakes her head. “That’s not the point. She’s too drunk to be up there. What if she falls and gets hurt? What if one of those guys grabs her, and I can’t stop them?”
Then I break their fucking arm, and every one of their fingers for touching what isn’t theirs. That’s what I should say, but I don’t. Instead, I shrug. “She should’ve thought of that before she climbed up there and started acting like a fool. I’m not her babysitter.”
Even as I say the words, I know that’s exactly what I’m going to spend the rest of the night doing. Babysitting the Porter Princess. No way in hell is anyone touching her.
“Seriously, Kade? You don’t have to be a dick. I’m not asking you to babysit her. I’m asking you to get her down. She won’t listen to me, and I’m not big enough to shove my way up there and get her myself.”
“Where the fuck is your husband?”
Saint narrows her eyes. “I don’t need my husband’s approval to go out, do I?”
“Okay, fine,” I groan and start pushing through the crowd. I ignore the grumbles and shouts as I shove past people. Fucking idiots. Think they’re getting a free show. Over my dead fucking body.
Once I reach the table, I spot some douchebag in a trucker hat waving a dollar bill at her.
“Give me somewhere to put this!” he begs.
Fuck this guy.
“I’ll show you where to put it.” I shove him, and he stumbles forward and to the side, trying to balance himself. That gives me enough space to give him another push so I can slip into his spot. He hollers something in response, but the crowd around me drowns it out.
I get my first look at Allie then. She’s swaying her hips with a mischievous look on her face. Her silky red hair flows down her back in gentle waves. She doesn’t have a care in the world and is oblivious to the hazards of this situation. The look of playfulness falls off her face as soon as she notices me standing there. It’s almost like I’ve unplugged the jukebox.
Staring down at me, she hardens her gaze. “Did you come for the free show?”
“You’re making an ass out of yourself. Get the hell down,” I snarl.
“Oh, sorry, I can’t hear you over all the fun I’m having.” She swings her hips, but stumbles unsteadily on her heels. Excessive alcohol, unsteady ground, and high heels are the makings of a disaster. My heart skips a beat in my chest at the thought of her falling and hitting her head or one of these fuckers grabbing her and touching her.