Page 6 of Fight for Me
Colt’s fingers were cool along her lower back as he kept her close, working their way through the crowd until he spotted his friends holding down a table near the stage.
“Jase! Harding! How’s it been?” he yelled over the music, slapping palms with the boys and yanking them forward for the international frat-boy chest bump. It was so stereotypical that Lexie had to fight not to roll her eyes. Instead, she fixed Jason Arnolds with her best “hands off” stare as he made a show of looking her over.
“Well, if it isn’t Smith and Wesson, my best friends,” he drawled, his eyes drifting up from somewhere south of her face. “Lexie, I do believe you get hotter every time I see you.”
“Thanks,” she said, her sarcasm drowned out by the sound system. Colt lifted his first shot of the night in her direction, a silent salute to tell her he was pleased.
At least that made one of them.
Nearly an hour later, the high-top table was littered with the boys’ shot glasses, and Colt had fully transitioned back from daytime professional to college playboy—a metamorphosis that would fascinate social scientists everywhere. Lexie, still nursing her first strawberry daiquiri, had already seen him check out four of the waitresses and a group of girls dancing nearby.
A young woman in a white button-up shirt and a short black apron came to clear their empty glasses, and Lexie watched as Colt caught her by the elbow and leaned in to say something in her ear. His hand lingered on the woman’s arm, even after she shook her head and started to walk away, and Lexie absently wondered why she wasn’t more upset that her boyfriend of more than two years was blatantly flirting with other women right in front of her.
When had she learned to simply sit and take it?
“You could at least look like you’re having fun,” Colt said, sliding up to where she sat perched on a high stool. His hand moved automatically up her leg and came to rest along the curve of her hip.
“What did you say to her?” Lexie asked, shooting him a pointed glare.
“Who?”
“The waitress, just now,” she said, and she jerked her chin toward the woman, who was still clearing a nearby table.
Colt rolled his eyes and threw back another shot, swallowing with a grimace.
“Nothing that matters. Come dance with me. Loosen up.” He reached for her wrist, and she had no choice but to put her glass down and stand before he tugged her straight out of her chair.
“Do you think I don’t notice when you flirt with other women? Or do you do it on purpose just to get to me?” Lexie asked as Colt led her onto the dance floor.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” he said, his voice impatient as he slipped his arms around her waist and toyed with the lacing across her back. “You know you’re my number one. The rest is just a guy thing.”
“Just a guy thing?” she repeated with disgust, stepping away, but he yanked her back into place, his hands drifting lower along her spine.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, reaching back to grab his wrists. She hated when he pawed at her in public.
“Looking for the stick,” he said as she squirmed.
A quick glance told her Jason and Harding were watching, and she saw their smirks grow as though they were enjoying her discomfort. Everything Colt did was a show, and while she’d been flattered by the spotlight in the beginning, lately it felt less like she’d been chosen and more like she’d been captured.
“Colt, stop it,” she said, her voice firm. She pressed both palms against his chest and pushed, but Colt was built like a linebacker and refused to be moved.
He chuckled, the low rumble rolling through her, and moved his hands back up in a rare moment of compliance.
“Kitten has claws tonight,” he said, tugging her closer until there was no room to spare between his torso and hers. She could feel the slinky dress catching against his belt buckle as he moved with the beat of the bass guitar. “Put them away and play nice,” he growled. “If you were willing to actually have some fun, maybe I wouldn’t need to window shop.”
She stilled against his chest, mentally wilting, and the voices in her mind began to chant a familiar chorus.
This is your fault.
What’s wrong with you?
Why can’t you just relax?
Maybe it really was that simple. He worked hard, after all. He deserved to have some fun. Couldn’t she at least give him that?
Letting out a long breath, she softened.
“That’s better,” he murmured, and Lexie closed her eyes.
