Page 3 of Between Two Thorns

Panic on the Dancefloor

R ose felt the overt flirtation as much as she heard the man over her shoulder. He had to practically press up against her to say it, and his breath was so hot against her neck it made her skin tingle in a way that she wasn’t sure she liked.

But a smile popped onto her face as she turned on reflex… even if a flash of disappointment ran through her when she saw the stranger was not Mr. Charming and In Charge or Mr. Strong but Silent.

“That an offer or a request?”

The guy snorted, and Rose smirked. Hell yes, she was funny, and she was checking him out. Tight white tank top. Hemsworth build. Couldn’t tell what his hair color was from the stupidly backwards cap.

She could work with that.

“A little forward, don’t ya think, Chad?” Ms. Bartender said, raising one of her dark eyebrows. And Rose almost turned around to stare at her. Was that…his name, or was that a joke? She thought only Fred said that kind of thing. From spending too much time on the internet.

“Course not, Ms. Bonnie.” He grinned, taking a sip of his own dark brown bottle, his arm tantalizingly close to Rose as he leaned against the bar. She could easily just brush up against that wall of muscle—“Happy to get the lady a screaming orgasm later.” Chad winked.

And Rose blushed to her flaming red roots.

“Should ask a lady to dance first,” she quipped back, priding herself on playing it cool.

Chad cocked his eyebrows and his empty bottle down with a smack. “Well, c’mon little lady.” He offered his arm.

Irritation spiked through the short redhead at once, but she chilled it again. They could establish ground rules about what she would and would not be called...after he impressed her on the dance floor. Rose nodded and slipped her arm through his impressive bicep.

A hand with long nails laid itself over Rose’s, making her turn back to the bartender with a furrowed brow. “Let me know if you want an angel shot later, honey,” she said with a sincerity that didn’t match the offer of a free drink.

It flew right over Rose’s head.

“Thanks!” the redhead called as her dance partner got impatient and tugged her forward.

Chad led Rose by the arm into the throng of writhing bodies as another beat built over the speakers.

The sound of fiddling filled the beer-drenched air, heavy with the clinging stench of alcohol, sweat, and a good time all around.

Rose had been dreaming of tearing it up on the dance floor like a real almost-twenty-something for so long, she barely had a second to worry that she couldn’t cut the rug in a real setting. Sure, she’d danced plenty on the Ranch.

But that was in front of her family, which didn’t count and probably would have found it hilarious if she resembled a hairbrush in a hurricane—it would have provoked a snorting, laughing fit from her brother, Sage.

Or the tourists, who were too old and sweet to care if she couldn’t dance, or were preteen boys that would stare an uncomfortable amount if Rose started to sweat.

No time to be anxious—the fiddling had increased in intensity. The beat was about to drop. Rose had to get out into the center of it all or be crushed by the throng of people swaying and stomping around her, eager to keep up with the song. She could handle that, no doubt.

Though Chad was more intent on handling her.

He was everywhere, touching her arms and her sides and up and down her torso. Was this what dancing with a partner was like? Basically dancing with herself up in her room. Just with more than her own hands on her hips.

Chad moved in closer to her, pressing his body against hers. Rose smiled as she could feel the way he flexed his muscles through his shirt. He squeezed so close she could feel the bass thumping in his chest as much as her own.

And, boy, the dude was showing off.

He was puffing out his chest and the bulging muscle of his arms pulled her impossibly closer, and even grinding their hips together in a way that would make a country preacher pass out from heat stroke.

It was risque; it was incredible.

It was a little… overwhelming and all at once.

Rose had been dreaming of this moment for years—two years now—and yet when it finally came, she could only feel a whirlpool of excitement tinged with a sense of dizzying doubt. She knew that this was what she wanted, but why did it feel so unnerving? Was this part of the experience, like a head rush from vaulting a jump?

Chad wasn’t letting an inch between them, and Rose felt like she couldn’t breathe.

There were other couples on the wooden planks who were doing far, far worse. They tangled together with limbs and lips in a way that just barely kept them more vertical than horizontal.

Rose could see one girl had her leg wrapped around her boyfriend as his hands groped at her ass—was that the expectation?

The redhead slid her arms around her dance partner’s neck, turning away from the couple. She was having enough trouble keeping her balance up against Chad’s wall of unforgiving muscle.

“Getting ideas, girlie?” Chad jested as he lowered his head to hers, his hot breath now inches away.

“Huh?” Rose asked over the thump of the music and the pounding in her ears. Her lips turned upwards, forming a grin that felt trained on her face, because that was what you were supposed to do.

This wasn’t everything she had wanted, but that was to be expected, right? The electric connection between two people that she had heard about in movies had eluded her. Wasn’t she supposed to be head over heels for this boy? Not constantly distracted by the other bodies pressing in on their space—one of which grabbed his girlfriend to flip her heels up in the air.

Maybe she just needed a new partner.

Rose took a step back, following the beat, but needing a bit of room to just breathe for a second. Chad was so close it felt like he was pressing her own boobs back into her rib cage. Lord knew she didn’t need the ladies to be any flatter.

But, before she could even take a full inhale, Chad was on her.

She took another step off beat, just to get some room, and he pursued her like some sort of damn grizzly bear. Hunting her down, pawing at her. His hands sank into the now flimsy-feeling fabric of her tank top. Rose could feel his nails bite at the exposed skin at the small of her back.

Headed straight down the back of her shorts to her ass.

Nope. Hard stop. Red light.

Rose opened her mouth to make her protest even clearer, but that thumping music she’d adored when she came in suddenly filled her throat. Muting her. Like it was stealing her voice.

“Hey! Back off!” Rose shouted at Chad. But the sound must have been swallowed up by fleshy bodies and pounding music.

Or...he was ignoring her.

Rose put her hands on his built chest and pushed with all her might. And what did he do?

Curl those overly built arms to trap her like a vice. A smirk on his breath that she could feel against her neck.

Rose tried to jerk away, but suddenly Chad was everywhere, arms like octopus tentacles dragging her back in.

Her eyes darted around the room, trying to make contact with someone, anyone, who could see she was in trouble. That she was panicking. Surely someone would swoop in and save her.

Fred.

Fred was there by the bar. Almost near Mr. Strong and Silent in the corner.

Her ‘friend’ glanced her way, and she knew he saw him when his eyes widened and his face seemed to flush.

And the mother fucker looked away!

So much for being the good guy she deserved.

Rose had enough of this bullshit. She was no wilting flower—she’d wrangled cattle since she could sit up on a horse. And she would not be trampled over now.

She jerked backward from Chad, getting an arm free.

“C’mon girl, we ain’t done dancing yet.” The brute snarled between his overly white, suddenly menacingly bared teeth.

“You ain’t,” Rose snapped back. “But I am.”

And then he was leaning in. Mouth first. Aiming for hers. Like he was about to eat her face—or worse, steal her first kiss.

“Fuck off, face hugger.” Rose cursed him, stomping down with the heel of her boot, landing on an overly priced tennis shoe-clad toe.

Chad howled loud enough to be heard over the music.

The corner of Rose’s mouth had just curled up into a smirk when the jerk shoved her in the side.

And she tripped back on her heels.

The world spun. And dramatically fell in slow motion and all at once.

The next thing she knew, she was tumbling down, feeling a sudden jolt of pain as her ass met the ground.

The inviting dance floor was unforgiving as a rock.

Somehow, that wasn’t the worst of it.

The wall of people—the jiving, living mass that she had admired as it moved in sync like a body with many parts—turned on Rose and swallowed her whole. Like a monster with many teeth and gums gnashing at her and constricting her like a snake.

A forest of legs pressed in on every side and the music died out, muffled by the pure and horrifying press of flesh.

Rose quickly yanked her arms back, clutching them fiercely to her chest and her wildly thumping heart.

But her feet weren’t as lucky.

A foot slammed down on her ankle, pinning her in place. It could have been the heel of a high-heeled shoe or the sole of a heavy sneaker; she didn’t know, and she didn’t care. All that mattered was the harsh coldness of the hardwood floor beneath her.

And pain shot up through her leg. Making her wonder if the bone would break under all the weight.

And if she would be trampled under the dancing feet, she’d so desperately wanted to join.