Page 15 of Fame and Obsession

What the hell just happened?

Crossing my arms, I summon my go-to emotion when I feel out of control—sarcasm. “Well, there’s my knight in shiny, dark pants, riding up on his white horse and—”

“You’re welcome.”

I blink. “What was that?”

“I said, you’re welcome.”

“For what?” I gasp.

“Oh, I don’t know, saving the day, protecting your honor, preserving your virtue? Take your pick.” Flashing a grin, he mimics my stance and crosses his arms over his chest.

Smug fuck. I don’t know whether to kiss him or knee him in the nuts.

“I had my virtue under control, thank you very much.” I’ve taken care of myself for so long, I doubt the sincerity of everyone’s motives.

He laughs dryly. “Sweetheart, he had a handful of your virtue and was going for more.”

“Look, I’m trained in FEDS, so I would’ve been fine,” I insist.

“FEDS?”

“Female Element Defense System.” His blank stare has me sighing in fatigue. “It’s a six-part defense program that teaches women to protect themselves in dangerous situations...” Oh, for the love of god, why the hell was I explaining this to a perfect stranger? “It doesn’t matter anyway,” I finish. “I had my purse.”

He eyes me curiously. “Not sure how things are done south of the Mason-Dixon, sweetheart, but stun guns are illegal in New York.”

“Yeah, I know your laws about no stunners, no pepper spray, no mace, no self-defense mechanism of any kind.” I shoot a finger in the air like I’m about to impart some infinite wisdom. “Y’all should scratch that freedom shit right off the Statue.”

“So, you’re in politics, is what you’re telling me?”

I want to say something brilliant to crack his smugness and regain the upper hand. But my focus is drawn to his tight black pants, and brilliant gives way to moronic. “Your pants are too tight...no breathing room.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, someone shoot me.

Rapid inhales send oxygen straight to my head, and my knees buckle, catapulting me forward into his rock hard chest. His arms fold around me, and I steal a glance up him. His eyebrows are drawn tight and his jaw is clenched.

Shit, is he just as affected as I am?

I inhale deeply into the crevice of his neck, every part of my body pinging with electricity.

So much for feigning disinterest.

“You’ve become drunk since the last time I saw you,” he announces, brushing a strand of hair away from my face.

“You’ve become a dick since the last time I saw you.”

Public relations clearly aren’t my strong suit.

“Yeah?” Amused, he steadies me onto my feet and drops his fingertips from my cheek, still keeping me in his embrace.

I will my mouth to stop talking, but my self-control has already passed out drunk. “Yeah, in fact, you are very pretumbterous, Fancy Pants.”

His lips twitch. “I’ll have to look that one up later.” He chuckles, and I catch a sparkle in his eye.

I have no clue what we were doing, but I don’t want it to stop.

I narrow my eyes. “So, Fancy Pants, what’s your deal?”

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