Page 29 of Layla

Too good and too decent for someone like me.

Feeling suddenly nauseous, I pull my hands away. Have I been leading him on? The thought of hurting him makes me feel sick. Disgusted with myself. “That red head is checking you out,” I shout, pointing behind him. She’s not the only one. We all tease Dylan a lot about his lack of game—he’s just too sweet and self-deprecating to be good at flirting—but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t attract attention. There are plenty of girls in this club who would die to be on his arm. Girls much worthier of his attention than me.

He’s frowning a little, studying me. “You okay?”

I paste a grin on my face. “I’m great. Just don’t want to cock-block you.”

He rolls his eyes and I take a few steps back. “Seriously, Dyl. Go talk to that girl. You’re right—it’s kind of pathetic that I haven’t found a prospect of my own yet.”

I give him a wave, avoiding his eyes as I turn. I don’t want to see if I’ve hurt his feelings.

Luckily, I bump right into the perfect distraction. The guy is tall and lanky, with dark hair and eyes and a gorgeous sleeve of tattoos down his right arm. And from the way he’s looking down at me, I get the feeling he didn’t bump into me on accident.

“You look like you need someone to dance with,” he shouts over the music.

I let my eyes drift up and down his body, making no secret of the way I’m checking him out. “I suppose I do.”

His hands come straight to my hips, pulling me closer, and I close my eyes, trying to block out the sick feeling that persists, trying to get lost in the music.

“I’ve been watching you since you came out here,” the guy shouts in my ear, making me shiver as his lips brush against my skin. “You’re gorgeous.”

I keep my eyes pressed close, trying to come up with a response. Why is this so difficult? Flirting with a hot guy usually comes as easily to me as breathing. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to get rid of this sick feeling in my stomach.

Instead of answering, I press myself closer, wincing a little when his fingers tighten on my hips. Then I make the mistake of opening my eyes. John is standing a few feet away, right on the edge of the dance floor. And he looks pissed.

The guy must feel my sudden tension because he steps back a little to look down at me. “You okay?”

I force a smile. “I think I could use a drink.”

His gaze sweeps my face. “Let me guess—a Cosmo.”

I scrunch up my nose. “I look like a Cosmo girl?”

He laughs. “Gin and tonic?”

“That’s more like it.”

He grins, his smile smirky. “Let me get it.”

I have no intention of standing here alone while John glares at me, so I link my fingers with his and follow him to the bar. It’s crowded, and I’m starting to wonder why in the hell I’m here. I could be back at the booth with my friends, with our own waitress and plenty of security to keep the crowd from getting too close.

The guy leans against the bar, settling in to wait, and offers me another smirky grin. “I’m Kyle,” he shouts over the music.

“Layla,” I shout back, and his smirk grows.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

It shouldn’t bother me. God knows I’ve used my reputation to get a guy’s attention plenty of times. But there’s something about his smirky look that’s setting me on edge.

Luckily Kyle has finally gotten the bartender’s attention and he turns away to give our orders.This is John’s fault,I think, feeling angry. He got in my head with all of his stress and his stupid warnings.

And speak of the devil, no sooner has Kyle pressed my drink in my hand does John appear at my side, scowling down at me. “You’re not drinking that.”

He doesn’t say it loud enough to be heard over the music, but I can read his lips clearly enough. I clutch the glass in my hand, glaring at him.

“I’ll drink what I want.”

His fingers wrap around the glass, wrap around mine, and shit does he look angry. “You are not taking a drink from a stranger, Layla.”