Page 52 of Keeping Kasey
I set the now-sticky glass on the bar top and shove Matteo’s hand away. “You’ve done enough damage.”
“Can you get the lady a new glass?” Matteo asks the bartender, who rushes to do just that.
Once I’ve cleaned the mess as much as possible, I look up to find Matteo smiling and James looking like there’s still a huge mess to clean up, but his focus isn’t on me.
Just as I accept my new glass, I let my eyes find Logan.
He isn’t alone.
He’s still loosely with a group of Consoli soldiers, but his attention is on the long-haired brunette rubbing herself all over him in her skin-tight, neon pink dress.
With his head leaning back lazily, Logan doesn’t have to do much to engage with the girl as she sways and grinds on him. He watches with one hand resting on her hip as he sips his drink.
In a slow, deliberate motion, he turns his head to meet my gaze with an unmistakable challenge gleaming in his sharp green eyes.
Neither Logan nor I look away from the other, and I wonder if he’s imagining what I’d look like in a jealous rage.
Well, if a jealous rage is what he wants, a jealous rage is what he’ll get.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Logan
For the life of me, I cannot imagine what possessed Kasey to wear a corset-like top to a meeting where every soldier in my base would be watching her. She’s refused to wear professional attire, and I’d accepted her loose-fitting casual clothes as a compromise. Then, she decides to actually look put together for a change, andthat’swhat she chooses?
Kasey’s defiance is amusing when we’re alone, but she took it too far at family dinner.
She might’ve been watching me as she slid her cardigan off, but I was watching the entire room of mesmerized soldiers. My instinct was to throw my jacket over her and drag her out of that room, kicking and screaming, but since that would raise too many questions—not to mention bring even more attention to Kasey—I resisted the urge.
And, of course, when I planned to spend the night with her in my bed, she decided to be social for once.
The last straw was watching my cousin spill his drink on Kasey as an excuse to feel her up, which he made sure I saw—a wry smile on his face the whole time.
I’ll admit that doesn’t justify what I chose to do next, but it sure as hell explains it.
Besides, it’s not like I approached this girl—a twenty-something attention-seeker who was on me the moment I got here. Her small, satin dress, and really all the dresses the women in this club wear, makes Kasey’s top look painfully modest, but that doesn’t make me feel any better when the soldiers sneak glances at her.
Most of them don’t even bother with subtlety.
So, when this girl—whose name I didn’t hear when she gave it—started dancing on me, I let her.
Her movements are smooth and well-practiced. Her wide hips and slim waist would’ve tempted me any other night, but not tonight.
I force myself to relax and place a lazy hand on the girl’s hip, which prompts her to flash me a sultry grin that I ignore. Instead, I slowly turn my head to watch Kasey.
Her eyes lock on mine, and her expression—curious but otherwise blank—is unchanging.
Kasey isn’t the type for blind rage and jealousy, but I still expected more of a reaction. Maybe a glare or the middle finger, but she only watches.
I can so easily imagine Kasey forcing her way over here, shoving this girl off me, and taking me on in a fight that would end with scratches down my back and hickeys decorating her throat.
But when she doesn’t move, I imagine a worse scenario, where she looks off and ignores me the rest of the night.
When she stands with a conspiratorial smile, the worst scenario of all registers—she’s going to fight fire with fire and dance with one of my soldiers.
I’ll kill him.
In lithe strides, she makes her way to the dance floor.
