Page 35 of Dangerous Men

I’d wanted to, though. Seeing Ash roll her nipples through the fabric of her dress and seeing the way she’d reacted to it, I’d wanted to reach into my pants and stroke myself so badly. The way she had rocked back against him had me wondering what it would be like to have that sweet, plump ass rubbing against me.

Ash knows I like to watch. Hell, Alec probably knows, too, but he’s never brought it up before. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that he angled the girl just enough to give me a show, before...

Fuck. She’s moving.

I’m so lost in the memory that I almost miss it when she leaves their table and starts across the dance floor.

I make my way toward her without thinking, abandoning my table and moving across the room, eyes glued on her. Alec would kill me if I let her out of my sight.

Their whiskey has clearly left her a little tipsy. There’s a noticeable sway to the way she’s walking, and?—

Fuck.

She almost collides with a dancer and slips, arms flailing as she struggles to stay upright.

She’s going to fall.

I don’t hesitate. Shoving another couple out of my way, I close the distance between us just as she loses her balance, barely reaching her in time to catch her. She lets out a soft sound of surprise as I catch her elbow, wrapping my arm around her waist and steadying her against my chest.

Great. Just fucking great. This girl is already more trouble than she’s worth. Hot? Sure. But an absolute headache? Looks like it.

“Are you all right?” I ask her. Her heart rate is so fast I can feel it beating like a drum against me.

She looks up at me then, tilting her head back and opening her mouth to answer… but something flickers across her face, and she closes her mouth without a word. She just stares at me with big doe eyes, speechless.

Terrific. She’s clumsy and an idiot. I tighten my grip. I’d expected a bit more from someone who graduated summa cum laude from Fortune City University. What a scathing indictment of our local education system, if she’s among the best of it.

More than a few heads have turned to watch us, and while it’s not a surprise that I’ve drawn attention with my little rescue, I fucking hate it. I can’t stand being watched like this, can’t stand the looks and the whispers from the surrounding crowd.

“Can you stand?” I ask. She’s leaning her full weight on me, balanced on one foot.

Gingerly, she tries putting weight on her right foot, but the instant it touches the floor, she whimpers, burying her face into my chest and shaking her head.

“It hurts,” she complains. Her breath is warm against the fabric of my shirt.

Great. Just great.

“Hold on to me,” I tell her, briefly releasing my grip on her. “And don’t struggle.”

“Wait, why would I stru—” She lets out a high-pitched shriek when I hook my arm behind her knees and scoop her into my arms.

“Put me down, put me down, put me down!”Her voice is shrill, panicked. Instead of relaxing in my arms like I’d expected, the girl clutches the front of my jacket, holding on for dear life.

“I need to get you somewhere where I can check yourinjury,” I say through clenched teeth. “And Itold you not to struggle.”

I’m not going to stand here in this crowd, being watched, for one more second. Especially now that her hysterics are drawing even more attention. I’m aware of every eye on me, watching us.

“Where were you going?” I ask. When she just stares at me with that same panicked expression, I try again. “Before you tripped. Where were you going?”

Her grip on my jacket loosens when she answers. “Outside. Th-the garden.”

The garden. I glance over at the double doors that lead outside. That seems as good a place as any to take her now. I carry her through the party and away from all those prying, invasive eyes.

Outside, the garden is mercifully unoccupied, and—just as I’d hoped—there’s a stone bench just the right size, nestled in the shadows, well out of the way and almost hidden. Perfect.

“I’m going to set you down, so I can check your ankle,” I tell her. She isn’t holding on as tightly, but she’s so stiff in my arms it’s hard not to be a little insulted.

As I set her down on the bench, and she finally loosens her grip on me, I mentally review everything I’ve learned about Sydney Sinclair over the last few days.