Pretty Little Savage (Sick Boys #1) - Lucy Smoke Page 0,35
before I even have a chance to examine what’s going on.
Dean growls and even I have to admit—albeit silently—it sends a thrilling tingle through my system. Instead of responding to me, he yanks me closer, drops an arm around my side and tightens his hold until I'm flush against his side. Awareness slips in like an unsuspecting drug. Invisible. Barely noticeable. And yet, the whole time, I can feel that something is … off. Something's not quite right. I take in his face. The hardness. The way he's not looking at me. The way he appears to be holding me more like a prop than a person.
Curious, I think. Very curious.
It could be because he doesn't actually see me as a person. That's entirely plausible. It's happened too many times to count. Guys with money or guys who think they're better look at girls like me and they assume. They assume because of my background that I’m nothing but a cheap whore, a plaything. A girl like me will only look for attention because there's nothing else she can afford. Those guys are always dead wrong, and by the time they figure it out, it’s too late for them.
So, normally, I’d throw Dean’s arm off, punch him in the face, and walk away without a second thought, but my curiosity has me staying right where I am. Something tells me that Dean is thinking of something completely different than what those other dipshits would be thinking. He's not looking at me because he's not focused on me at all. His attention is somewhere else and I follow the direction of his gaze until I see that the crowd has parted to allow a single girl through and the music has dropped down to a whisper.
The girl’s got long, thin wheat-blonde hair pulled back into a haphazard ponytail and eyes done up with dark eyeliner that smudges around making the thin slits appear bigger. With her red lipstick and narrowed eyes, she looks like a rich girl trying to appear tougher than she actually is. I glance down and note that both Brax and Abel have moved closer. They stand just below the platform, their arms crossed in an almost identical pose. They look like sentinels guarding their King. I can’t help but silently chuckle at that thought.
Dean squeezes my side when he feels my amusement, too, as if that will stop me. I huff out a breath, but I keep my lips shut, curious to see what he’s planning.
Abel speaks first, his tone harsh and angry. "What the fuck are you doing here, Coleman?" he barks out.
She comes to a slow stop before them and stiffens under the eyes of everyone in attendance. Her head tips back, but she doesn't wilt under the silence or the glares. Instead, she seems to draw from it. Her shoulders push back, she thrusts out what little chest she has, taking a cue from a number of classic mean girl routines, and tosses her ponytail over one shoulder before crossing her arms and popping a hip out.
"I came to talk," she replies with just as harsh a tone.
"We have nothing to say to a Kincaid. Get lost," Abel says.
The girl's blue eyes narrow on him, her lips twisting in a way that doesn't exactly make her unattractive, but at the very least shows her displeasure. When her head lifts and she notices me, though, that's when it changes into something ugly. A snarl curls her perfectly painted red lips. She bares her teeth for a brief moment, kohl-lined eyes narrowing into slits.
This is why Dean is holding me the way he is, I realize with no small amount of continued amusement. I glance back up at him, taking in the stony expression on his face, and decide to do him a little favor. Sure, he's irritated me, but more than that, he's brought me to a place where I can have a little fun and I know before the night is through, I’ll get some of that adrenaline rush I’ve been craving.
Rather than simply standing there, letting Dean hold me the way he is, I reach up and place my palm over his chest. His attention is diverted for the briefest of moments, glaring eyes flashing down to me as I plaster myself against him. I get what I want the second she sees it.
"Who the hell is that?" the girl demands, nodding her head at me.
"She's none of your business," Brax says, sounding