Page 69 of Danger
I jerk forward, but it’s already too late. Danger’s holding it, thumb scrolling like he’s not currently invading my personal property. He towers over me, broad and solid, his jaw set in a line that would make a lesser girl beg for forgiveness.
“You cheating on me already, Winnie?”
His hand makes my phone look like a toy.
“Give it back,” I demand, scrambling to my feet, instantly defensive. But he just raises it higher, out of reach.
“You wanna keep playin’ this game and see how I answer?” He raises my phone higher, eyes burning.
“Me playing a game? That’s rich coming from you.”
“Tell me, Winnie—am I dealin’ with this now… or later?”
I’ve never wanted to slap someone so bad in my life.
I’ve also never wanted to be dealt with so bad in my life.
“Give it back,” I snap, reaching for my phone. “Now.”
He doesn’t. Just studies the screen, then me, then the screen again. “Frank,” he says, all smug. “Half-turtle. This your type?”
My face goes hot. “You made it clear this is a fake relationship, Danger. I get it now. What do you care if I check the app for someone who actually?—”
He sets my phone on the top edge of the stall. There’s a thousand ways I could slip free at this moment. I don’t use any of them.
His mouth curves. Slow. Infuriating.
“Someone who what?” he asks. “You think he’s gonna treat you well?”
“Maybe.”
He laughs, like this is a game. Like other men are a joke.
I lift my hand to slap him. Not hard. More instinct than intent.
He catches my wrist midair.
The second his hand closes around me, everything changes.
In one smooth motion, he steps into my space, forcing me back until my shoulders hit the stall wall behind us. Wood at my back. Him everywhere else. His grip isn’t rough—but he’s immovable. Staring at me like he’s holding back something worse.
I wet my lips before I can stop myself. His eyes follow the movement.
“Go ahead,” he says quietly, leaning in until I feel his breath along my cheek. “See how that goes.”
“And if any man shows up,” he continues, dark and lethal, “he’s gonna wish he hadn’t.”
I believe him. Every word. His hand is still wrapped around my wrist. His other arm braces beside my head, boxing me in. I’m trapped, but I don’t want to be rescued.
“Why, though?” I ask, and I hate that my voice comes out small. “Is it that you don’t want someone from Weston to think your ‘girlfriend’ is on a dating app?”
His eyes drop to my mouth. Just for a second.
“I don’t give a damn about what Weston thinks. But you? Meeting up with some random asshole turtle guy? Not happening.”
“Tell me why you care. You’ve made it clear you don’t want me. I’m just convenient?—”
He silences me by lifting my chin up so I am forced to look him in the eyes. “You think I don’t want you?”
