Page 61 of No Match Found
“That’s because you haven’t done it with me.”
I shook my head as the song changed, this time to something slower. I put my hands on his to remove them, and the strength of his grip sent a flicker of nerves through me. There would be no moving his hands without his compliance.
“Ithoughtyou might be a little uptight,” Leo said as though he was amused by my attempt.
“Excuse me?” I tried to step back.
“It’s okay, Vivian.” He pulled me even closer. “I’m good at helping women loosen up.”
I gripped his hands and pushed down, but they didn’t budge.
For the first time, ice-cold fear filled my chest.
Maybe it was irrational. We were in a crowded room full of people I could call to for help. Assuming they could hear me. Or cared.
I tried to think about the self-defense class we’d had in high school gym class, but it was a blur all these years later.
“Vivian.”
I turned my head and found Grant looking at me, his jaw hard and his eyes wells of darkness.
My pulse raced.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Hey,” Leo said. “We’re dancing here.”
Grant’s eyes never left mine. “You ready to go?”
Heart pounding in an entirely new way, I nodded.
Grant took my hand in his, warm and firm.
When Leo didn’t loosen his hold on me, Grant’s gaze shifted to him for the first time.
Every nerve in my body on high-alert, I watched as the two of them stared each other down.
The tension in the air felt like a vice on my lungs as the seconds stretched on, other dancers bumping the three of us unheeded.
Leo was a couple inches taller than Grant and had significantly more muscle on his frame. But Grant’s eyes had murder written in them, and it crackled in the space between him and Leo.
After what felt like an eternity, Leo let go of my waist, put his hands up, and gave in. “Chill out, man. You can have her. Good luck. And good riddance.”
Grant’s grip on my hand tightened, and I could sense it. He was about to punch Leo in the face.
“Come on,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Let’s go.”
Another fraught second passed, and I gave a little tug. With a feathering of the muscle in his jaw, he broke his gaze away, readjusted my hand in his, and led us out of the club.
EIGHTEEN
The fresh nightair outside sent a little chill over my skin as the door shut behind us.
The silence that followed was sudden and oppressive, but Grant kept walking, my hand in his. His pace was quick and unrelenting.
The possessiveness of it all should’ve turned me off completely.
It did the opposite, causing a low flutter in my stomach to match my racing pulse.
