Objective (Bloodlines #2)(37)

“Yeah, I dance,” he grumbles. “So, princess, you game?” I’m not sure I’m prepared for dancing with a man. The massage seems like a big enough step in the right direction for one month but I can’t help but want to be out on that floor with all those people. I love the way they twirl and twist together across the floor and I really believe Bentley would never hurt me.

“I’ll try?” I offer up, more a question than a response. His eyes shine a little with approval as he stands and offers me his hand. I take it hesitantly. His fingers close around mine and the warmth from them seems to make my blood pump a little faster. He leads me to the dance floor and slides one hand to the small of my back slowly, never breaking eye contact, the other hand gripping mine up near his shoulder. I watch his face carefully and battle the anxiety that bubbles in my belly.

“Good start, yeah?” he says quietly into my ear. I pull back a little to meet his eyes. His smile is contagious. He’s worried about me, about my reaction. The corner of my mouth lifts slightly.

“Yeah,” I mumble. He starts moving us easily around the floor. I’m impressed with his skill and grace. I never would have guessed he was the kind of guy who could move like this. He does all the work and I easily follow his lead.

“How was the massage?” he questions while we glide left, then right. As I go to answer he spins me in a circle and pulls me back close to him as we keep moving. He’s warm and hard and smells like hay and beer. It does funny things to me. I try to shake off my Bentley daze enough to answer.

“Good. Thank you for that. It was really thoughtful.” The way he towers over me isn’t scary anymore. I feel protected in his firm, cut arms. At least, right now I do. We shuffle, twirl, and he dips me as the song finishes. A genuine belly laugh rumbles from me at his moves. I straighten and look up to his handsome face, feeling emotions that I haven't felt in too long.

“Thanks. For everything,” I muster with all the sincerity I can.

He doesn’t respond but pulls me back into him and holds me strong and steady. For the first time in what feels like a million years I feel okay. He keeps me tucked against his torso tightly and I let myself get lost in the moment. The song Hey Pretty Girl starts drifting through the speakers and he starts swaying us in time to the first few bars. The words slide through me like a knife. I try desperately to hold it back but my sob tears through me. The memory of Cane holding me close and whisper-singing every last damn word to this song blindsides me. I try to keep the tears at bay. I try to push the memory out. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to count to ten while taking small breaths in through my nose and out my mouth. Apparently sensing my complete meltdown, Bentley sweeps me up bridal-style into his arms and I adjust to keep my face buried from view by nuzzling into his neck. Despite the ache in my heart I notice how strong he is. How good it feels to be held again, and he smells so yummy. A cold breeze washes over me and the music grows slightly quieter. His arms squeeze tighter around me and as I look up his eyes get stormy. He sets me down and says, “Princess, what happened to you? What are you hiding?” he grunts as he sets me down.

“It’s just everyday life stuff.” I sniffle and look away.

“Tell me,” he urges.

“Bentley, I want to go home now,” I say quietly.

He tugs my chin so I’m facing him again. “Tell me.”

“God! Will you just take me home? Why are you pushing this?!” I squawk.

“Why do you think?” he begs.

“I have no idea!” I throw my hands up in the air with irritation.

“You ever stop to think that maybe it’s because I like you? Maybe because I want to know you? But every time I try to get you to talk I get attitude. It’s becoming a problem.”

“I don’t have an attitude problem!” I bark back.

“Princess, you’re entitled to your opinion, I’m just lettin’ you know that it’s stupid.”

“Bentley!” Now I am screeching. “I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it. HARD. Go away, ‘cause tonight I’m drinking until it’s someone else’s problem!” I wrench out of his arms, teetering when I finally break free of his grip but keeping my balance somehow and storm back into the honky tonk. I get to our table and instantly feel like shit. I know I have way overreacted and I know he was nothing but nice and gentle and caring and I am purposely pushing him as far away as possible but I have no choice. I need to get my ducks in a row before I let anyone in. I’m not going to mess up my life or anyone else’s anymore. I drown the rest of my beer, slam the empty bottle on the table and head to the bar for another one. One shot, two shots, three shots. Comfortable numbness sets in.

“Time to go, princess,” a gruff voice hisses from behind me.

“I am NOT leaving,” I proclaim sloppily and crank my head to see him.

“Hey buddy, she’s doin’ alright, back off,” the stranger next to me interjects.

“She came with me. She’s leavin’ with me.” Bentley holds firm, irritation etched on his handsome face.

“I’ll take her home,” creepy stranger smirks and reaches out for me.

“BOYS!” I shout, dodging his touch. “I will not be leaving with either one of you. So you can all f*ck off!” This apparently was the wrong thing to say as Bentley’s eyes cloud over and he lunges in, picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. With my head hanging down his back, my ass in the air and my fists beating his backside, I scream.