back feels hard and tight beneath the soft leather of his jacket. If he wasn’t working so hard to defend my honor, I’d have to reach out and grab his perfect ass.
“Listen to me, Deliverance,” he says, face dangerously close to Daryl’s. “She does not want to dance with you. She’s with me. If you want to talk about this further I’d be happy to do so outside and with my boot up your ass. Are we clear?”
Daryl’s resolve is wavering and he looks around stupidly for someone to back him up. There aren’t any takers. He nods before taking a step away from Sam. Knowing that he’s lost the fight, Daryl turns into the crowd but Sam places a strong hand on his arm, preventing his escape.
“Go and find this young lady’s friend. Tell her we’re at the bar waiting for her. If she’s not there in five minutes, I’m going to come looking for you, understand?” Sam asks as Daryl jerks his arm away from his grasp.
I watch with relief as Daryl pushes through the crowd, putting as much distance between him and Sam as possible. My belly is pooling with heat over this blatant show of manliness. I swear if Sam puts his boot up Daryl’s ass, I’m going to pass out from lust.
Sam watches the crowd until Daryl’s no longer visible. He turns to me and places a hand at my elbow, giving me a dark look. Dark and hot. I can feel my heart beating against the tight grip he has on my arm and can’t decide if removing my clothes will make this situation better or worse.
“Are you ok?” His voice sounds possessive and a little angry. “What were you doing, dancing with that fool?”
I’d been hoping he’d let that question slide. A week ago I turned down his offer of a date and tonight he finds me bumping with Jethro on the dance floor. “It’s not really what it looked like.” He’s still holding my arm and the connection has me flustered. “I came here with Luanne and she sort of ditched me to go and dance with Daryl’s friend. He kind of hijacked me onto the dance floor.”
“Well, I can’t say I approve of your taste in a dance partner, but I’m glad I was here to intervene,” he says, finally releasing his hold on me.
“Me too.” I bring my arm forward and rub against the spot where he touched me.
Sam’s eyes follow the movement and I see a sly smile working at the corners of his mouth. Oh no, I’ve seen this look before. It usually arrives just before the first kiss and too late for me to make a good decision. I’ve got to remember my resolution. This man is too handsome, too exciting, and too… Oh hell, I can’t remember the rest.
I’m thrown forward when a dancer behind me loses her balance, her drink spilling on the already sticky floor. As I take another half-step forward, trying to prevent cheap beer from staining my suede shoes, I walk right into Sam’s solid chest. It’s through sheer willpower alone that I’m able to stop myself from stroking his pecs through the soft cotton of his t-shirt.
“Sorry,” I blurt out, yanking my paws away from his incredible body.
“Sorry for what?” he asks, amused, his trademark grin firmly in place, challenging me. I shift on my feet and look away from him, avoiding the knowing look in his eyes. It’s obvious to me, him, and every redneck in Whiskey Tango that I want him. Putting distance between us is my only chance. I take a step away and end up running into a sidestepping line dancer in the process. Sam pulls me back toward him and places a heavy hand against the small of my back, trapping me.
He leans close to me, murmuring in my ear, “Tell you what. How about I buy us some drinks at the bar while we wait for Luanne to join us?”
Good, more drinks. I always make my best decisions when alcohol is involved.
“How about a Coke?” I suggest, ignoring the feel of his thumb as it rubs small circles into my lower back.
He holds me close for another heartbeat then turns me around so I’m positioned to lead the way through the rowdy crowd. He keeps his hand pressed against my back and it’s seriously impeding my ability to walk normally. I resist the urge to move slower to allow more hand-on-back time. As we reach