Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 55048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
My fresh drink had finally arrived. I frantically tipped the server, took a generous sip, and set it down on a table. Ford was closing in on us, and if he tried to get me to leave with him, I would. My head told me not to fall into his arms and become his plaything, but my heart—and a certain other body part—well, that was a different story.
“Elle,” Ford called out, a stern note in his voice, just as I grabbed Darrell’s arm and led him onto the dance floor.
I looked back as Darrell pulled me close for a slow dance, and Ford was standing in the spot I’d just vacated, fuming.
“That’s Ford Barrett,” Darrell said. “That guy’s a beast.”
Darrell slid his hand down to cup my ass, and Ford narrowed his eyes. My heart raced as I wondered if he would follow us out here on the dance floor.
“Hey, hand on my hip,” I said sharply.
With a disgusted groan, Darrell removed his hand from my ass.
I looked over to see if Ford was still staring at us, but he was gone. A few seconds later, though, I saw him leading the woman in the short, tight dress onto the floor.
Subtle. He was trying to make me jealous.
It was working.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ford
Two could play at this game, but one of us could play it better.
I hadn’t known I was capable of such deep jealousy until I’d seen Darrell Hampton ogling Elle. He was a known womanizer and asshole who wouldn’t get away with half the shit he did if his parents weren’t wealthy. Whether she liked it or not, I’d intended to get her away from him.
Then she’d seen me coming and whisked Darrell onto the dance floor, and my concerned jealousy had become pissed-off jealousy. So, I’d found the nearest woman and asked her to dance, and now Stormi was talking my ear off.
“How can you even see the puck?” she asked. “It moves so fast.”
“We manage.”
“Do you ever play air hockey? I love air hockey. I have to be careful with my nails, though.”
Her nails looked more like claws. They were easily three inches long. She was running the end of one of them over my scalp just above my neck, which I was ignoring.
I stole a look at Elle and caught her staring at me. Just what I was hoping for. I arched my brows, the corner of my mouth turning up in a smile, and she reacted with a disgusted look.
Darrell’s face was about six inches from hers, and it was killing me inside. I wanted to stomp over there and pull him off of her. I didn’t know Elle well yet, but what I did know of her, I liked. A lot. She was too good for Darrell Hampton to even look at, let alone touch.
“Air hockey’s cool,” I murmured, trying to keep the conversation with Stormi going.
“Do you like anal?”
My head swiveled around, my eyes locking with hers in an instant. Did she just ask me what I thought she asked me? “Do I like anal?”
She smiled and moved closer. “Giving, not receiving. My husband is seventy-three. We have a very open relationship and he loves watching other men fuck me in the ass.”
Jesus. My attempt to make Elle jealous by dancing with another woman was turning into a shitshow.
“I don’t like anal,” I said. “I’m actually saving myself for marriage.”
Both lies, but they’d save me from Stormi and her pervy old husband.
“How old are you?” I asked her.
“Twenty-four.”
Wow. Her marriage to a seventy-three-year-old man had to be about money. I felt a little bit sorry for her, but then I saw Darrell sliding his hand back down to Elle’s ass and I forgot anyone else existed.
She shoved him slightly, just enough to push his hands off of her, then turned and walked away, her back to me. Darrell scoffed and took a flask out of his jacket pocket, taking a sip from it as he headed in the opposite direction.
“Excuse me,” I said to Stormi.
I knew I should go after Elle, but I had to have a word with Darrell first. I wouldn’t let him get away with treating her that way.
“Hey,” I said as I approached him from behind.
He turned.
“Hey,” he said with a grin. “Ford Barrett, right?”
“Who said you could put your hands all over her?” I demanded.
His smile slid away. “What?”
“Elle. You were grabbing her ass.”
He scoffed. “It was just a dance, man. What can I say? Hands wander.”
My jaw was set in a hard line, my fists clenched at my sides, desperately wanting to level him.
“Your hands better never be within ten feet of her again,” I said in a warning tone.
He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, she didn’t tell me her ass was spoken for, man. How was I supposed to know?”