One eyebrow rises. “And that’s supposed to convince me to let you in? Girls shouldn’t be afraid of their boyfriends.”
The words resonate inside me, a blow that echoes through every tense moment with Shane, through every moment of my childhood—where I learned that men are best obeyed if I don’t want to be hurt. “I’m not afraid,” I say, but my voice sounds hollow.
The bouncer doesn’t appear convinced.
I’m saved from his dubious expression when Amy steps closer. The dewdrop choker she’s wearing emphasizes the expanse of bare skin the silver dress exposes. Her shoulders are slender, her breasts small. The bouncer’s lids lower in appreciation. They seem an unlikely match, the heavily muscled, tattooed bouncer and the pixie-sized good girl, but that’s what Amy wants. She comes from doctors and investors and engineers, each with their own set of impressive credentials and awards and hefty bank accounts. Her art major and the rough-looking bouncer amount to the same for her. Freedom.
Oh, and I can understand that. That’s what I’ve wanted my whole life, except now that I have it, I still feel tied down. Constrained by the expectations of my sister, my boyfriend. Unable to let go of the past.
Amy whispers something in the bouncer’s ear, and even though he hasn’t officially let me in, I scoot past him. She’ll keep him occupied for a while at least, and if she’s lucky, he’ll occupy her right back.
Chapter Three
The crowd has already heated up, moving as one large ocean, liquid heat filling the dance floor. I slide between bodies and duck waving arms toward the back of the club, where sofas and chairs are haphazardly arranged. There isn’t much seating in clubs like these, so usually people claim them fast. It doesn’t matter when Shane shows up, though. He can clear the best seats with a few crisp bills or even a smile.
That’s where I find him, holding court with one of his friends and several girls.
Two of the girls are chatting with Rick, a guy I’ve always found a little creepy. The other girl leans against Shane while he looks down her dress.
As I watch, he brushes his hand up her arm.
When I reach the table, Shane looks up. Guilt flashes in his eyes, and he gives the girl a shove that I find more disturbing than his flirting. She wobbles on her high heels before shooting me a venomous glance.
“Babe,” Shane yells over the heavy thump of music. “I thought you’d never make it. Get your pretty ass over here.”
Part of me wonders what would have happened if I hadn’t joined him tonight. Would he have kissed that girl? Would he have had sex with her? What bothers me most is how little that worries me. I know there’s something toxic in our relationship, but toxic is all I know.
He grabs my wrist. Then the world is tilting sideways as he drags me onto his lap. I let out a small squeak before settling on his thighs. This close, I can smell the sweat on him, the faint musk of grass from the field. It’s not unpleasant, exactly. It’s just a little too intimate for comfort.
As is the erection pressing into my ass. I squirm to get back on solid ground.
He wraps his arm around my waist like an iron bar on a roller coaster. “Where you going, babe?”
“Yeah, babe,” Rick says, smirking. Everything dumb and dangerous that Shane has done while we’ve been together has been with Rick at his side. Bad influence doesn’t begin to cover it, but it’s not my place to tell Shane who his friends should be.
“Please don’t call me that.”
I know better than to challenge him, and sure enough, his lips widen. It’s not a nice smile, especially when you factor in the calculation in his eyes. “Your girl needs to lighten up,” he says, his gaze trained on mine.
“Yeah,” Shane says, voice low. He’s too busy feeling me up to realize we are wading into danger. He has one hand groping my ass, the other playing with the neckline of my dress.
“Stop,” I whisper, but of course he doesn’t hear me. It’s way too loud for that. I scan the crowd, hoping Amy will magically appear. Maybe that’s cowardly of me, but I just want this night to end without a fight.
As if Rick reads my mind, he asks, “Where’s the smurfette?”
He calls her that because her hair was blue when they first met. Since then it’s been pink, purple, teal, and every color under the rainbow.
“I don’t know,” I say because I don’t really. She might be at the front of the club, flirting with the bouncer. Or he might have taken a break and found some empty office for them to make out. Either way, I’m not sending Rick in their direction.
His eyes narrow. “I know she came with you.”
Crap. “She went to the bathroom.”
Rage flashes over his face—he doesn’t like being lied to, but most of all, he hates that Amy isn’t interested in him. She likes to rebel, but she’s not stupid.
Shane grows bold enough to push his hand inside my dress and stroke my breast.