Page 8 of Snowed in with the Professor

This was not my scene. It was noisy and obnoxious, crowded and hot. The age bracket for the Olive seems to be eighteen to twenty-five.

I was out of place.

Tossing back shots and grinding with sorority girls had never been something I indulged in, not even when I fit in with this age group.

I was here for one reason.

One person.

Grace.

As I scoured the club, looking for her, I felt my body stiffen further. I didn’t like her here. I didn’t want her here. The level of testosterone in this location, inhibitions down because of the booze flowing, would put her in a position that wasn’t safe.

I knew what guys thought about, what they wanted to do. They had one thing on their mind and that was getting in the trousers of a girl with her inhibitions down. And although Grace was smart and I hoped wouldn’t fall for that garbage, there were plenty of idiots who didn’t know when to quit.

I curled my hands into tight fists at my sides as I pushed into the room, pushing my way past people dancing, all but having sex together. The sheer thought of some bastard putting his hands on Grace, caressing her while she was mine, had irritation and rage flooding me.

I paused at the bar and looked around, the place so full I couldn’t barely breathe.

Although I didn’t see her immediately, I wasn’t about to give hope. She was here, I could sense it. Or maybe it was my urge to protect her, even from herself, from her friends, that had me wanting to be the one to save her.

I wanted to be her knight in fucking shining armor.

I turned and glanced in the other direction, scanning back in the corner, where the tables were partly veiled by the shadows, only periodic flashes of light piercing it.

And then I saw Grace, sitting at a table with her buddy and the guy who had been in the coffee shop. They were currently engrossed in a passionate kiss, her companion all but sitting on his lap.

But Grace wasn’t paying attention to them. She had her focus on the dance floor, and even from a distance I could tell how bright her cheeks were, how shiny her eyes were.

She was inebriated.

I straightened from the bar, knowing that going up to her probably wasn’t the best strategy but wanting to do just that, to grab her against my body, to tell her I was taking her out of here.

A flood of people arrived to the bar, blocking my approach to her. And then I could see a guy approach up to Grace, stoop down and say something softly. She shook her head and smiled, embarrassment masking her emotions.

He murmured something again and straightened, the smile he wore confident. He reached out his hand to her.

Grace looked behind her to her pal, but she’d get no support there. And when she stared back at him, his grin broadened.

She put her hand into his and he helped her stand, guiding her out to the dance floor. The song changed to something more sensual, and I narrowed my eyes and clinched my jaw as I watched him throw his arm around her waist and bring her close to his body.

I’d shatter his hands for touching her.

I snarled low, the vibrations in my throat the only thing that let me know the sound had slipped free. I couldn’t even hear myself think in this damned place.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyhow because all I could think about, focus on, was getting to Grace… getting that fucker away from her.