Page 22 of Gatsby's Starlet
Kane stepped closer.
Too close.
“Well,” he said near my ear, his voice deep enough that I could feel the vibration of it more than hear it clearly, “looks like it’s just you and me for a bit.”
I took a small step away from him immediately. “I’ll just wait outside.”
His hand closed around my wrist before I could move. Not tight enough to hurt. Just enough to stop me. “There’s no need for that,” he said easily, his fingers sliding slowly along my arm before letting go as if the contact had been accidental.
My skin crawled. “I’m fine.”
He grinned. “Oh trust me,” he said, his eyes drifting slowly over me again, “I can see that.”
A woman wearing a red bathing-suit top and shorts that barely qualified as clothing walked past us then and gave Kane an exaggerated pout. “I thought we were headin’ to your room,” she complained.
“Change of plans,” he said without even glancing at her. “Get lost.”
His eyes never left me.
She followed his gaze then, looked me up and down with open disapproval, and wandered off toward the bar without another word.
I tried to focus on anything in the room that wasn’t Kane.
The place was chaos.
A group of bikers near the back were arguing loudly over a pool table while another man stood on a chair shouting something about a race down the highway. Someone knocked over a beer bottle and laughter erupted from the couch beside them, while the women drifting through the room seemed completely comfortable moving through the noise and smoke like it was the most natural environment in the world.
I felt like a deer standing in the middle of a pack of wolves.
Kane’s hand settled suddenly against my lower back.
My stomach twisted.
“Don’t you worry none,” he said slowly, his hand sliding slightly higher along my spine. “I’ll keep you nice and safe.”
I stepped away again. “I really should go wait in the car.”
He moved with me instantly, shifting just enough to block the path toward the door without making it obvious. “Relax,” he said. “I ain’t gonna bite.” His hand brushed my arm again, lingering this time. “I mean,” he added with a slow smile, “not unless you ask nice.”
The room suddenly felt smaller. Louder. More dangerous. I glanced toward the door again, quietly measuring the distance. It wasn’t far. Just a quick walk across the room. If I moved fast enough—
Kane’s hand caught my waist. “Where you goin’?”
“I just need some air.”
“You’re fine right here.”
His fingers tightened slightly against my side before sliding upward again, his attention lingering on the curve of my waistbefore drifting to the soft fabric of my dress. He rubbed the material slowly between his fingers. “Soft,” he said. “You always dress like this?”
I swallowed. “It’s just a dress.”
“That’s where your right,” he murmured. “It’s the bitch in the dress that has me excited.”
His hand lifted slightly, brushing one of the curls pinned near my temple before tucking the strand gently behind my ear. The gesture was almost tender. Which somehow made it worse.
“You really shouldn’t walk into a place like this lookin’ that sweet,” he said quietly. “Makes a man start thinkin’ things.”
My pulse jumped.
