Filthy English (English #2) - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,37
hand down his chest to the V at his hips. I ran my hand over his hard crotch. “Hi there, Sex Lord.”
He stared at me, his eyes dark with some unreadable emotion. “Stop.”
“You started this.” I snaked my arms around him and sucked his neck the way he’d done my shoulder. He tasted of sweat and man, and I wanted to inhale all of him. I was flirting with danger, and this time I couldn’t blame it on tequila or adrenaline or exhaustion.
I wanted to climb him like a tree.
His jaw clenched as he pulled away from me. “First off, I came out here because . . . dammit . . . you and that short-as-fuck dress, and second—I could have been anyone behind you. Even Chad. What were you thinking?”
“That I was going to get lucky?”
My answer didn’t make him happy. He laced his fingers with mine and pulled, forcing me to follow him as he barreled his way through the throng of people on the dance floor. Well, if he’d come out here to protect me, then that had certainly taken a left turn.
Obviously he was ticked about something, but he’d never hurt me. Even as he pulled me through the crowd, he kept glancing back to make sure I wasn’t getting dragged down.
He stopped briefly at the bar where Spider and Lulu sat deep in conversation. They glanced up when we stopped, their eyes big as Dax didn’t speak to either of them but grabbed what I assumed was his Newcastle with his free hand and then headed to the back of the club.
“Just so you know, I’m only letting you yank on me like a caveman because I’m curious about what’s got you in such a tizzy. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he growled.
Okay then.
He headed down the hall toward the restrooms.
Crap. Not the stifling room with all the drunken girls.
I slowed down. “Thank you, but my bladder is fine. Plus, it’s hot in there and the last time I went in, I really wanted to puke . . .”
He burst through the ladies’ room door.
Three women swiveled to face us, their eyes lighting up appreciatively as they took in the handsome male at the door. He straightened athletic shoulders and grinned charmingly—although I could see it was forced.
“Ladies, sorry to bust up in here, but if you’d excuse us, I’d like to have a few moments alone with . . .” He sent me a narrowed look.“ . . . this girl.”
They blinked. Looked around at each other.
“Uh, this is the ladies’. Why don’t you take it outside?” one of them snarked as she leaned over the sink to apply more lipstick.
Dax cleared his throat. Smiled. Again. “The lead guitarist for Vital Rejects is at the bar. He has blue hair and I’ve told him to buy you as many drinks as you want.”
“For real?” squealed Lipstick Girl. Her hands fluttered around her blonde hair. “Oh my God. I love him. He’s so hot when he plays and when he got in that fight in Vegas—”
“Yes, he’s the ultimate bad boy. We all know.” Dax added, “By the way, that free alcohol offer ends in five seconds. Five, four, three, two . . .”
They sent us one final look and all three scurried out of the room.
As soon as the door was shut, he let my hand go, threw the deadbolt, and paced around the small room, his demeanor a little possessive and a whole lot sexy. He was like an angry lion, ready to tear into someone. I watched him, frankly fascinated by his emotional response. Why was he upset? What was going on with him?
He came to a stop, as if he’d made a decision, and stalked toward me. I backed up until I was pressed against the sinks that lined the concrete wall. Glittering eyes raked over me, and quivers of heat danced up my spine at the lingering desire I read on his face.
God. I wanted him and his domineering attitude. But it was crazy. Insane. Hadn’t I learned my lesson with him already?
He slapped his palm against the wall, his face leaning down to mine. “Tell me you knew it was me out there.”
I exhaled. So that’s what this was about.
“As soon as you put your hands on me, I knew it was you.” Only you. “I’d never do that with a random person, Dax. That’s not me, and you should know it.”