Scorched (Frigid 2) - Page 7

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“Yep.” I glanced quickly back to where Andrea was and swallowed a curse. Goofy SOB’s hands were in an area I so did not appreciate. Was Andrea too…buzzed to realize where his hands were? Because I knew she normally wouldn’t be down with that kind of shit.

“Well, if you’re still around, give me a call,” Lea said, and my attention swung back to her. It took a moment to get what she was saying—what she was offering. “I’ll answer,” she added with a cute little smile.

Shit. Shit on a sundae.

Lea and I’d hooked up a few times over the years. Nothing serious, and normally I’d be filing that little offer away to act upon in the not too distant future, but right now, there wasn’t even a speck of interest. If I hadn’t been inappropriately hard a few moments earlier, I would’ve thought my dick had stopped working.

Feeling like an ass, I forced a smile, because I’d had a lot of fun with her and she was a good girl. “Sure.”

Lea started to say something, but my attention wandered back to where Andrea was, and I was over this conversation and being polite. Goofy SOB was tugging on Andrea, and it was obvious she was not happy with the treatment. I didn’t stop to think.

“I’ll be right back,” I announced, glancing at the couple sitting with me.

Kyler lifted a brow, but said nothing, and I kind of think he knew better. Standing, I nodded at Lea, and then didn’t look back as I crossed the floor.

Nearing the cluster of dancers, I heard Andrea say, “And you don’t even know my name.” Her words slurred together a bit, and my shoulders tensed.

“Do I need to?” the guy replied.

My gut clenched and my entire body jerked. From behind, I smacked my hand down on the guy’s shoulder. He let go of Andrea, and I saw her stumble to the side, catching herself before she lost her balance. Our eyes met briefly. Hers were glazed over, and my anger hit another level.

“Yeah, if you want to be touching her, you need to know her fucking name,” I said, flattening my hand and shoving him back a good step. Before he could react, I got between him and Andrea. “But you don’t need to know her name. You don’t even need to remember. You’re not worth any of that.”

Goofy SOB tried to step toward me, and I’m prooffucking-positive the look on my face made him change his mind. His gaze shifted away from mine. “Who the hell are you? Her boyfriend?”

I almost laughed in his face, except Andrea had already been insulted enough for the evening, even if she had no clue. “Yeah. So get the fuck out of my face before I knock you through that goddamn door.”

“Tanner.” Andrea’s hand pressed against my lower back, but I didn’t take my eyes off the guy.

Tensing, I waited for the asshole to do anything, but he raised his hand and flipped me off before turning around and stalking away. All I could do was laugh at his retreating form. The guy might be a classless asshole, but he had common sense. By appearance alone, I had a good twenty or so pounds of muscle on his scrawny ass.

The hand on my back dropped away, and I drew in a deep breath before I turned around. That was a good idea, because that breath got stuck somewhere in my chest, and I had no idea what the hell was up with that. Did ovaries replace my balls at some point? Possibly.

Andrea stared up at me, her full pouty lips parted and brown eyes wide, full of such a potent sadness that an urge to sweep her into my arms hit me hard. I barely felt whoever it was that bumped into me as I moved toward Andrea. Her lips moved but I didn’t hear her.

“What?” I asked.

“You don’t smile at me,” she said louder, and I blinked. Her shoulders rose with a heavy sigh, and that urge increased.

“Andy,” I said, shaking my head. “I always smile at you.”

“No. Not really.” She lifted her empty glass, looking down at it. “That guy had grabby hands.”

“Yeah, he did.” I didn’t want to talk about that asshole, and I wanted to change the forlorn quality to her words. Folding my hand around her smaller one, I took the empty glass out of her hand. “Come on.”

Of course, she dug her heels in. “I wanna dance.”

I lifted a brow as I walked around her, stretching our arms out as I leaned over, placing her drink on the bar. “You sure about that?”

She cocked her head to the side, brows knitting. “Yeah.” Slipping her hand free from mine, she threw her arms up and whirled around. Balance off, she stumbled to the side, right toward the group of guys waiting to get served at the bar. Oh, this was going to end badly. Shooting forward, I wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from face-planting some random dude’s back.

Andrea’s giggle was infectious and also concerning as she fell back against me. Placing her hands on my arm, she started to twist her hips against my groin. My jaw clenched as a jolt of lust slammed into my gut, fierce and fast.

Aaand back to the inappropriate hardness.

God, my cock freaking throbbed as I stepped back, trying to put some space between us. “Andy,” I all but groaned. “What are you doing?”

Turning her head to the side, her eyes were closed as she smiled. “I’m dancing, and you’re just standing there.”

I was just standing there.

And roughly five seconds later, she turned me into her own personal stripper pole.

Turning around, she placed her hands on my chest as she slid down, her palms trailing over my abs. I jerked on reflex, mouth dry as she reached the belt on my jeans and smiled up at me, her eyes hidden behind thick lashes. The throbbing increased tenfold.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout Frigid Romance