Page 30 of Wicked Player

Hands fisted. Shoulders tense. His jaw so hard it could cut granite as his gaze dropped to where Connor had my arms pinned at my sides, up to his face, and then over to mine.

I could only imagine what he saw. I shook my head but strands of my hair stuck to my wet cheeks.

I was flushed and hot, chest heaving.

Connor was shocked enough he loosened his grip on me, and I stepped back, shaking my arms and rubbing them.

Not because he hurt me but because I could still feel him on me and I hated I still loved it.

I was such a screwed up mess.

“Gage,” Connor said. “Lizzie and I were just catching up. Beautiful night you have here. You should be really proud of yourself.”

Gage didn’t respond with words. He didn’t need them. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued glaring at Connor. It said enough.

“It’s fine,” I said. I wiped my cheeks and attempted to fix my messed up hair. “I think you have the wrong idea, but everything’s okay.”

“And I think when a woman is struggling and shouting for a man to get his hands off her that man should listen.”

Oh no. I’d been shouting? I whipped my head toward the restaurant. No one was there. Thank goodness.

“We were just talking,” Connor said. He was getting pissed. And that was never good. Gage might have been bigger, but Connor was no slouch. “And maybe you should mind your own damn business.”

“Press conference I promised to finish earlier will be starting soon. Perhaps you should go find your seat.”

My bet was Gage was more pissed than Connor.

Why did that make me feel good? Connor wouldn’t have hurt me. Not like Gage might have been assuming. He was mostly freaked about the glass I was stepping on. He hurt me with his words not his hands.

Connor glared at Gage. Nostrils flared and from my view, both of them looked ready to brawl.

“It’s really fine,” I said. They ignored me, continued staring each other down. I had no doubt who would win. Connor was fierce and strong.

Gage was on a whole other planet of pissed-off male.

Connor slid his eyes to me and they softened. “Please, promise me you’ll think about it.”

I crossed my arms over my stomach. Perhaps it’d hold in my heart he was shattering all over again. I nodded, too afraid to answer him with words. It was just to get him to go away.

His grin slipped and he nodded once. “We’ll talk later then,” he said. “See you inside.”

I didn’t watch him walk away. My gaze moved to the skyline and the lights and the darkness settling over the city. I felt it when he was gone though because Gage relaxed.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No.” The pain in my foot reminded me I’d done a bang-up job hurting myself. I wobbled to a nearby chair and sat. Unstrapping my shoes, I inhaled a sharp breath when Gage was there, kneeling at my feet.

“What are you doing?”

“You have blood all over your shoe. What happened?” His big hands brushed away my smaller ones and he went to work on the clasp, undoing it with impressive efficiency.

“I dropped a glass. Stepped on it. I’ll be fine.”

“You need to clean up. Let me get something.”

“No.” I pulled my foot back. His hands fell between his spread knees where he was crouched down. And God. He was beautiful. I was a wreck, bloodied and teary-eyed and he was in front of me, practically on his knees. “I’ll take care of it.”

“At least let me make sure you get the glass out.”

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