Page 8 of Untamed
I saw him before I left the hallway. He was standing there, all big and sexy, but was staring down at his phone. Whatever he was viewing was apparently funny, because he laughed, low in his throat.
That crooked smile had gotten me going earlier. That husky laugh, though? I was a goner.
As if sensing my presence, he lifted his head. Our eyes locked, and I felt a shot of something hot and potent, like whiskey in my veins.
Frozen in place, I watched as he looked me up and down then smiled again. This wasn’t the crooked smile of amusement, though. This one was pure sin.
I could do this. I could be sexy. Taking a deep breath, I stepped from the carpet of the hall to the tile of the lobby.
My foot slid as though I’d stepped onto ice. I rarely wore the heeled sandals, and they offered no traction on the slick floor.
“No!” My arms cartwheeled as I tried to regain my balance. I cried out as I started to fall, preparing myself for the pain when my flesh smacked into the cheap tile, but then something caught me under the arms, a hook that yanked me back to my feet.
A hint of something warm and male tickled my nose before I could catch my breath, and I groaned inwardly. I straightened my skirt before turning slowly, my eyes level with the wall of muscle I knew I’d find there.
“Those are stupid shoes.”
What?
My mouth fell open. I’d imagined several possible reactions from him as I primped, but insulting my footwear wasn’t one of them.
“They’re not stupid.” Of all the brilliant retorts in the world, that was all I could come up with? Embarrassment washed over me. Overwhelmed for a moment, I turned away, blinking fast. I felt… Well, I felt pretty stupid, and that wasn’t a sensation I had very often. But here, wearing a little sundress as I headed to a place where everyone else was wearing cutoffs and tank tops, trying so hard to get the attention of a man who was paid to be in the same vicinity as me?
Yeah. I felt like an idiot.
“They are stupid,” he said. I gasped when he pulled on my shoulder, turning me back around. He took my chin in one of those massive hands, and my pulse started to thunder. “Shoes are meant to walk in. You can’t walk in these, ergo they are stupid.”
“Thank you ever so much for your unsolicited opinion,” I snapped, cheeks on fire. Wrenching away, hot and confused, I stalked the rest of the way across the lobby to the entrance of the bar, every muscle tensed so I didn’t slip again.
He followed me, silent as I entered the pub, the noise of people grabbing dinner and relaxing with beer after work a welcome relief. He stayed right behind me as I waved to the table where a few members of the crew were huddled, and continued to invade my personal space as I leaned against the bar and ordered a bottle of beer.
When the bartender slid it across to me, I took a long swallow before turning to my new shadow, who was waiting beside me, eyes scanning the room, arms crossed over his chest. His stare flicked down as I moved before returning to active duty, and inside me, irritation welled anew.
“Hey.” I poked a finger into his arm. Deigning to look at me again, he arched an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. “I like these shoes. That means they’re not stupid.”
I don’t know what I expected by that point, but it certainly wasn’t for him to fix his full attention on me. My pulse skittered when he looked me over with delicious slowness, starting with my eyes, descending to the curve of my neck and the swell of my breasts, all the way down to the offensive shoes. His gaze lingered there for a long moment.
“I said they were stupid, and if you can’t walk in them, they are.” A hint of a smile curved his lips. “I never said I didn’t like them.”
He turned away, again scanning the room intently, as though he expected the vandal to pop out of the woodwork shouting boo. I was left with a slowly building heat between my thighs and a pulse so fast it made me dizzy.
This was validation. He felt that same crazy heat that I did. Standing there, I waited for him to do something else, to say something, anything, that would continue our flirtation.
All he did was watch the room. The way his body was angled told me he was intensely aware of where I was beside him—if I moved, he shifted, angling himself so that he’d be better able to guard me.
But it was as if I were just a part of the scenery again, something he needed to assess to ensure my safety.
It was infuriating.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pressed the cool glass of my bottle to my cheek. Seeing him so focused on his job both pissed me off on a female level, and let the nerves from the threats creep in. I didn’t like this vulnerable feeling. I was used to feeling in charge.
I needed another distraction. Glancing over at the table of my colleagues, I saw that most of them had ordered dinner. When I caught Nolan’s eye he waved, gesturing me over, but I shook my head, appetite suddenly gone. Instead, I moved to the opposite end of the bar from Jasper, needing some space from the raw sex he exuded. Settling myself up on one of the high stools, I sipped at my beer, pointedly ignoring my bodyguard.
“Wanna dance?”
The hand that had caught my elbow was large and rough. I followed the line of a wrist, an arm dusted with chestnut hair, up to broad shoulders, a solid chest displayed in a worn T-shirt, and arms that showed this guy used his body for a living.
“I’m sorry?” I looked up the last bit, to where full lips smiled in a sexy, rugged face. The stranger had a thick, russet-colored beard, a messy shock of hair to match, and gray eyes that twinkled. He looked like a hot lumberjack, and I couldn’t help but grin back at him, my frustration lifting.
