3. Kate

Chapter 3

Kate

O h, he’s smooth. The sexy eye candy built to make women feel small and dainty, even thicker curvy girls like myself, is too much. For him to look and talk the way he does, he should definitely come with a warning label. Even though I managed to extract Carrie from the scary looking biker, I’m grateful to have an escort away from the guy who was looking to take full advantage of my too-drunk friend.

I meet his eyes and man, oh man, my body is already responding to him. He’s young. Way too young for me, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe he was hoping to save Carrie for himself. Maybe flirting with me to try and catch Carrie’s eye? I look at Carrie and she’s staring open-mouthed at him. I turn my head to look at our savior again, and he’s still looking straight at me. “I’m Kate… and this is Carrie.”

I don’t wait for him to respond. I walk with Carrie over to the table with Bryce and Tamara. Carrie’s on to me the whole way, telling me how handsome the guy was, and I was stupid to walk away. I don’t even care. I don’t feel as if I can breathe until I put some distance between us.

We no sooner get to the table than Carrie is telling Bryce and Tamara all about the man who had “goo goo” eyes for me. Her words, not mine.

I almost laugh at her antics until everyone in front of me gets really quiet and is staring behind me. I can feel him before he even says a thing.

I feel a warm hand on my shoulder, and I take a deep breath before I turn around. His hand slides across my shoulder, down my arm, and wraps around my fingers. “Dance with me… Kate.”

I start to say no. I know I’m only going to look foolish. He’s way too young, way too handsome, just way too much everything. But my friends aren’t going to let me take the easy way out. Carrie puts her hands on my back and almost pushes me into his arms.

Luckily, he catches me, and I suck in a deep breath as I hit his hard chest. His big arms wrap around me, and I swear he almost carries me out to the dance floor. I pull back, but he still holds my hand the whole way. His scent surrounds me, woodsy and clean but also manly, and once he stops on the dance floor, he pulls me into his arms again.

I bite my lip and look for something to say. “You won’t get in trouble, will you? For dancing? Are you supposed to be working?”

He shakes his head, and his stare is penetrating me. “No. I got Saint to cover the door. He can handle it.”

I nod and ask him, “What’s your name?”

“Bulldog,” he answers and then grimaces, like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “But you can call me Bull.”

One arm goes around my waist and fits me tighter against him. The way he takes charge on the dance floor, holding me like I’ve always been his, has my heart hammering in my chest, and I’m breathing fast, even though there’s a slow song playing through the speakers. He’s taller than me and bigger also. So I can ignore the fact that he’s too young for me, as least right now, while we’re dancing.

He pushes the hair off my face. “Where do you live?” As he speaks, his eyes stay focused on my lips.

I almost answer him, already wanting to give him everything he asks for. But common sense prevails. “Why do you want to know that?”

His hands slide up and down my back, and I loop my arms around his shoulders, my hands resting at the nape of his neck.

I swear as we sway, I can feel the bulge between his legs pressed against my belly. I start to look away, but he stops me. “I want to know so that after you drive your friends home I’ll know where to meet you later.”

My nipples tingle and his gruff, raspy voice sends chills down my body. I’ve never reacted like this to a man before, let alone one I just met. We’re so close every time our bodies sway, I can feel his leg pressed between mine. I fight the urge to tighten my legs on his. He definitely knows what he’s doing. “How old are you?”

He opens his mouth and then closes it.

I smile then, because I know he’s young, but now I wonder just how young. I put my forehead on his chest and shake my head before I look up at him again. “Please tell me you’re of legal age.”

He laughs then and it’s a hearty one that comes deep from his belly. “Twenty-four.”

I slide my hands down from around his neck and grip his upper arms. I try to step away, but he’s not having it. “Uh-uh, baby. Where do you think you’re going?”

Like a hussy, I’m amazed by the feel of his arms flexing under my hands. Damn, he’s hard, which makes me wonder if he’s this hard everywhere. Shaking my head, I reach behind me to pry his hands off me, but when I do, he just grabs on to my hands and holds me. I’m sixteen years older than him. I keep waiting for him to ask me how old I am, but he doesn’t.

As if he’s afraid I’m going to walk away, he brings both my hands up to his chest and holds them there. His breath is hot on my face and it’s like I can feel the emotion in his voice. “Fuck, I want to kiss you.”

I should say no. I should tell him how old I am and then I know he’ll let me walk away from him. But I don’t. Staring into his eyes, I raise onto my tiptoes. He pulls one of my hands up to his shoulder, setting it there until I wrap it around the back of his neck. He cups my face, still holding my other hand. He leans down and when his lips touch mine, I can feel the heat of it all the way to my toes.

He may be young, but he knows what he’s doing. His tongue slides in and then out again. He’s pushing me for more, the way he’s angled his face and taking me in. His leg slides between mine, and I clench my legs on to him tightly because his kiss is already more than I can handle. I can’t take much more.

When he pulls away, we’re both gasping for breath, and I know I’m looking at him like he has a third eye or something, but sweet Mary, I’ve never been kissed like that before.

Finally, lifting from my daze, I realize that the reason he stopped was because of all the catcalls. The bikers are all laughing and making noise. I look back at my table of friends and all three of them are watching us with stunned looks on their faces.

I put my hands on his chest and push away from him, forcing myself to put some distance between us. But he doesn’t let me go far. He holds his hand out to me. “Let me have your phone.”

I don’t even question him; I pull it out of my pocket and hand to him. As he types into it, he says, “I like it that you’re being safe and not handing out your address. I’m going to text myself from your phone so I have your number.”

It doesn’t even register with me that maybe I shouldn’t have given him my phone. I’m still too messed up and need to recover. He walks me back to the table before bending over and kissing my cheek. “Thanks for the dance… and the kiss.”