Page 31 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

It had been a while since I’d touched alcohol, and nerves had me ordering a second Long Island Iced Tea before I’d even tasted the first. Big mistake. It knocked me on my ass before I finished the second sip.

But because, hey what the hell, I finished both and motioned for a third. Katie grabbed my hand, yanking me onto the dance floor.

It was loud and dark, with flashing lights and bodies moving. The pulse of the music crawled up my spine.

I tried to loosen up, but I just felt stiff. I thought too much. Maybe the good feelings from the alcohol would kick in soon.

Katie was a wild thing with her hair whipping, hips grinding—trying to pull me into her energy.

I finally closed my eyes and focused on the bass, letting my hips roll with the music. I let go and really felt it.

But when I opened my eyes… there he was.

Graham.

Across the dance floor. Sitting at the bar. A brunette hanging off his arm, laughing so loud I heard her over the music.

My stomach dropped. A sharp bolt of jealousy hit before I could even stop it.

What the fuck?

I threw myself harder into the music, almost angry dancing, not caring who I ground myself into, letting my body say the things I didn’t dare speak.

A few guys circled in—maybe five—each sporting a pair of matching tiger prints on their left forearm.

One placed his hands on my hips. Another, his arms around Katie. One ground himself up behind me, then two more either side of us.

It was wild.

Jarring.

But I didn’t have a single reason to stop—or so the alcohol told me.

Not really.

He had a date.

Why couldn’t I have some fun?

It wasn’t like we were even dating.

I glanced to him.

He’d noticed me, a smirk spreading on his face, but then it died as the men became rougher, and a protective, possessive look took over him.

My eyes shifted to the man in front of me. He’d been getting a little handsy, put one too close to my pussy. I shoved it away, but he just put it back—making contact.

I pushed away, but then the guy behind me pressed his groin into my ass, and I’d wished my dress was thicker so I couldn’t feel his hardening bulge.

But before I could figure out how to escape, a hard, familiar hand clamped around my wrist and yanked me away from them.

Graham.

His body was a wall behind me, radiating heat and fury.

His grip was not gentle, but it wasn’t cruel either—it was possessive, like he’d finally decided I belonged somewhere, and it sure as hell wasn’t grinding on strangers.

“You don’t want to dance with them,” he informed me.

I didn’t have a say in the matter. He pulled me to him and out of the reach of the guys.

I twisted around to face him, half-drunk, half-defiant.

“No?” I challenged, tipping my chin up.

His eyes burned down into mine, all stormy and violent and something deeper that scared the shit out of me, yet made me feel safer than I ever had.

“No.”

Then he grabbed Katie’s arm and pulled her over too. “You either.”

She danced circles around Graham and me, completely oblivious to the danger we had put ourselves in, then slunk over to Derek.

“Looks like she doesn’t want to dance with you, bro.”

“Get the fuck out of here, Kyle ,” Graham said before shoving Kyle’s chest back with a single hard hand.

“She yours?” One guy questioned.

Our eyes locked, and all I could think of was the range, the closeness, the teasing, the heat, and just how badly I wanted him to say yes.

In his eyes, he did. But?—

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Another one of Kyle’s guys said.

The other four stepped forward, coming to his defense.

“She’s drunk, and if you don’t want to get another sentence, you best take yourself and the rest of these motherfuckers outta here.”

The alcohol in my system must’ve started kicking in because before I could stop myself, the most ridiculous thing spewed from my lips. “They could be fun.”

“I said no.” He pulled me in closer to him, and I lost my balance, collapsing into his chest.

I looked up to him.

Both of him.

I blinked.

He blurred between one and two Grahams.

And all I could think about was how fun it’d be to climb into bed with both of him.

“Maggie, all they’re gonna do is gang bang you and throw you in an alley,” he growled.

My words slurred together as I attempted pull my arm from his grasp, “Maybe I want that.”

Kyle reached for me, “Look, G. She wants it.”

“I said back off.” Graham pushed him again, this time his hand dipped to his pistol, only halfway, just enough to threaten. “Now.”

Kyle gestured some sign to his goons, and they dispersed into the crowd without question.

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything Poker Face by Lady Gaga blared. And my entire body lit up with excitement.

“This is my favorite! Graham, you have to dance with me!” I grabbed both his hands, they were warm and rough in mine, but he dug in his heels, towering over me with that gruff “ hell no ” look that only made me tug harder.

“No, Max, I’m here with?—”

“What? You can only dance for charity?” My hips swung to the beat, and I spun around, brushing my ass against his groin, while I looked over my shoulder and locked eyes with him.

Then something shifted. He huffed, and his body leaned into mine, and just like that, I had him. God help me, I fucking had him .

His palms landed low, hands clamping around my hips.

Possessive.

Claiming.

The music slammed into my bloodstream, and our bodies started moving together, rolling our hips against each other, slow and deliberate, a silent dare that burned hotter than the booze buzzing in my veins.

Graham stood behind me like a loaded gun—cocked, aimed, barely holding back.

I spun, facing him again—taunting him.

I grinned up at him, wicked and bright, dragging my hands over his chest like I owned him. He grabbed my wrists and held them tight—the look in his eye told me he wasn’t sure if he should kiss me or strangle me.

But we kept dancing.

I pressed in close—chest to chest—breathing the same air. His heart pounded through his shirt, matching mine beat for beat. He held me by the small of my back, pressing me into him as he took his turn grinding into me.

When I looked up at him, I was close enough to taste the words he swallowed down.

But he leaned in even closer, “Keep teasing me, princess,” he rasped, his voice like broken velvet. “See how far that gets you.”

My body betrayed me with an electrifying shiver that raced through it. If I pushed one inch further, he’d break.

And God help me, I wanted him to.

But the spell shattered.

The mic screeched, a siren sounded, and Graham jerked his head toward the bar with a growl, like the universe itself had cockblocked us.

I laughed—wild, half-crazy—because if I didn’t, I might’ve done something reckless, like climb him like the tree he was, until he forgot every reason he’d been holding back.

The bartender’s voice roared through the club, “Not so fast, buddy. You’re not getting out of this that easy?—”

Graham jerked his head up, grimacing like a man who just remembered he had a jail sentence waiting.

“This little lady over here tells me you’re a talented dancer. And we all know it’s true. So, why don’t you climb up here and give us a hand with some drinks?” The bartender stood on the bar, shirt unbuttoned, belt undone, pointing down to Graham’s date.

Oh yeah… he had a fucking date.

She waved to him.

He raised his eyebrows as a sort of ‘thanks for nothing’ acknowledgement.

I caught a glimpse of his face?—

A split second of raw, wrecked hunger before he slammed the wall back up, smirking like this had all been a game.

The siren blared again.

The bartender bellowed into the mic, “Ladies and gents—we’ve got ourselves a free-for-all!”

The crowd roared.

Another shirtless bartender yanked Graham by the collar, dragging him fully onto the bar like he was a defiant toddler who’d run from his mother in the grocery store.

He shot me a side-eye as he stumbled onto the polished surface?—

Half a threat, half a promise.

Behave, it said.

Or don’t.

Either way—he was watching.

Before I could process any of it, Katie bounced up beside me, eyes wild with glee.

“What’s going on?” I shouted over the music.

“You heard him!” Katie laughed, practically vibrating with excitement. “It’s a free-for-all! Graham and his buddies give out drinks while they dance, and every time you grab one—” she held up a glittering finger, wagging it like a naughty secret, “—you get one loosening.”

“…a what?” I blinked at her.

“A button, a belt buckle, a zipper… whatever,” she sang, twirling. “Pants have to stay… mostly on, though. Club rules.”

I stared at her. “You’re kidding. He’s a cop. He’s even got his fucking pistol. That’s allowed?”

Katie shrugged, unfazed. “What—you think cops don’t have fun? He’s not on duty, is he?”

“I… I don’t think so?”

“Then sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!”

She gave a little hop, twirling her ass straight toward the bar, throwing up two fingers for two drinks.

One of the shirtless bartenders dropped to his knees in front of her, pouring neon pink liquid into two absurdly large shot glasses while pelvic thrusting to the beat.

Katie cackled, yanked his belt loose, and went for his button before he wagged his finger at her— not yet, naughty girl.

Laughing, she spun back toward me, glasses in hand, and shoved one at me.

I sniffed it suspiciously.

It smelled of melted candy and bad ideas.

“Pink lemonade?” I guessed.

Katie winked. “Yeah. It dilutes the hard stuff. Keeps us going longer.”

I shrugged and took a sip—and nearly spewed it right back out.

Graham was on the bar.

Shirtless, sweaty, and goddamn glorious.

His dark hair was damp, sticking up in messy spikes.