Page 20 of Dangerous Pursuit
"You don't? I thought it was very friendly. Familiar, even."
I study his face as he stares me down. Damn. So many angles.
He licks his lower lip, seemingly lost in thoughts. I wonder what it tastes like.
"What is it that you want, Xander?"
"I want you to honor your damn end of the deal," I bark again. His expression grows stormy, brows pulling together. I won't back down.
"No."
I throw my hands in the air. "What do you mean, no?"
"What? Don’t understand whatnomeans?"
"Hey!" My hand snaps forward, and I press an accusatory finger against his unyielding chest. "Don't you dare—"
I yelp and almost jump in place as his calloused palm wraps around my finger, firm and determined. "Careful," he says.
My breaths are coming faster, my mind racing. He could break my bones right now. If he wanted to. Fuck, he could snap me in half in general. He won't, though. I'm not sure how I know that. I just do. "Or what?"
The muscles on his face grow even more taunt, making him look even hotter, and, I'm not gonna lie, slightly terrifying. But not in a bad way.
He takes half a step forward, trapping our hands between our connected chests and takes a sharp inhale, but before he can answer, the club's door swings open and my headsnaps to where a mountain of a man whom I now recognize as Liam's replacement emerges from the vibrant interior. "Problem?" he asks the back of Liam's head, but doesn't look particularly worried, as he grabs the stool from behind Liam, moves it two feet to the side and takes a seat.
Liam doesn't turn to look at him, his eyes still fixed on what I assume must be the top of my head. I can feel his chest expanding against mine as he takes a few deep, long breaths. "Maybe," he finally says. "I'm not sure yet. But I'll handle it."
And before the words have a chance to fully sink in, he lets go of my finger, grabs my wrist instead, and drags me behind him and into the jungle.
Heavy beat spills from the speakers and into my ears as soon as we enter the threshold of Skin on Skin.
My temperature spikes by a hundred degrees, and every last one of my senses joins in the experience.
I can no longer see Liam, even though our hands are still connected—two arm's lengths are enough to create a gap that's being filled with new people with every step we take, rolling between us in gracious waves, twisting and turning.
We must be the most fully dressed people in the main room.
Liam's grip on my wrist is strong, but he no longer has to drag me—I'm tailing him voluntarily, pulled by his presence, by this sense of trust that he's still there, leading me, although I can barely see him.
The space is even more packed than I remember, and the crowd seems rowdier, more intense, more into whatever it is they're doing with and to each other.
Only this time they don't bother me as much. Slick, naked skin glides against my own time and time again, different noises, moans and groans are merely background, a somehow welcome addition to my current predicament. Because this time, I have a purpose. A six foot five, two hundred pounds of muscle worth of purpose.
We take a sharp left turn, and then another, and another. Heavy doors squeak and the mass of bodies thins out as we enter a hallway, and another, and another.
Liam's frame is in my view now and I try to pick up the pace, to level up with him, but he's too fast. Too determined, as if getting me to whatever place he wants me in is the sole purpose of his existence.
A beep. A squeak. A shove. And suddenly I'm being yanked forward with new might as Liam unlocks and opens another set of heavy doors. He places his huge palm between my shoulder blades and I stumble into a brand new scenery. Before I can regain my balance and take in my surroundings, the door slams shut and Liam's massive physique materializes before me like a mountain as we stand across from each other in a small, secluded room with burgundy walls and a sizable gray leather couch that must have cost more than three months worth of rent placed right in the middle. Or at least that's what Ithinksurrounds me, as all my attention is now focused on Liam's commanding presence.
He folds his arms and looks down at me, but doesn't step impossibly close this time, giving me a chance to see his face. I'm both glad and disappointed by that choice.
"You have an attitude problem." His thick, gravely voice makes my skin crawl with a mix of excitement and respect that his tone commands.
Yes, Liam is definitively the right person for the job he has, but if his goal is to intimidate me, I'm going to give him a run for his money.
Physical injury isn't in my cards tonight, after all.
I make sure to give him a pointed, prolonged look before I stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans, turn on my heel and slowly walk around the sofa, exploring, faking interest in the lonely piece of furniture. "I could say the same thing about you. Breaking promises, not respecting verbal agreements." I turn my back to him and pretend to admire the solid color of the wall, the sofa between us providing a safety net, just in case. "That's not very gentlemanly of you, wouldn't you say?"
