Page 46 of Little Boy Toy

“Did you just—” I clutched him around the waist.

Travis sat up. “You fucking well bet he just. He hit me! Fucking asshole!”

It had happened so fast, I hadn’t even seen Zale’s hand lift up, let alone the actual punch.

It wasn’t as if Travis didn’t deserve it. But fighting was not allowed in the club. Not real fighting, anyway. Playing a scene was a different thing. This was serious. Super serious. But apparently not to me. I put a hand to my mouth and pressed down hard. I was about to break out in the giggles. Alexander shook in my arms as if he was laughing, too.

Zale looked completely dumbstruck.

Travis sat up, rubbing his jaw. “You want to take this outside, big guy?”

“I’d rather I didn’t see you ever again.” At that, Zale turned, took my hand and pulled me from the room.

Crowds of men had formed everywhere. Some in the private hallways we passed were stark naked, their skin shining from exertion. The club was on fire tonight, busier than I’d ever seen it.

Zale held on a little tighter than normal as he led us quickly upstairs and toward the main dance floor and bar.

I kept tugging against Zale’s hands, looking over my shoulder to see if Travis was following us. I didn’t see him, but that didn’t mean he might not show up at any moment and jump us. He’d been super pissed. For that matter, security might show up as well and detain us, because technically what Zale had done was assault. Zale was right to walk fast. We needed to get out of here.

I hurried to catch up. In the process, I stumbled and dropped Alexander. I let out a little cry, trying to stop and so I could pick him up.

“Hey,” a stranger said from the sidelines. “Are you hurting that boy?”

Zale stopped and turned.

“I’m fine,” I started to say.

Zale looked at me, then down at the floor. Another guy walking by picked up Alexander and handed him back to me. “This yours, sweetheart?”

I snatched the bear from his hands. “Thanks.”

Zale went to his knees before me. “Kendry, I’m so sorry. I was only trying to get out.” He reached up and petted the side of my head. “I didn’t realize I was dragging you too fast.”

Holding on to Alexander’s fluffy ear, I put my arms around his neck. “Pick me up,” I whispered into his ear. “We can go faster.”

“Good thinking, honey.”

Hands down, Zale’s endearments were way better than anyone else’s. When he called me “honey” my insides went all liquid and hot.

Up I went, Zale’s palms cupping my ass. I curled my legs around his waist and hung on, Alexander bouncing against Zale’s back as we headed at lightning speed for the exit.

Guys moved quickly out of the way to let us pass. Zale ran across the bar area, and I clung tighter to him.

Suddenly, whistles and catcalls surrounded us. Guys were yelling, pumping their fists in the air amidst loud dance music. “Go! Go! Go!”

My heart thundered. It was all so hilarious and scary at the same time. As if some monster was after us. In reality, Travis wasn’t a true monster, just an asshole. In the short time I knew him, pride was a big deal to him. He would never press any charges. He’d turn this story of tonight into something bigger, something that favored him in the end.

When we reached the entry hall, I saw security hanging out. They were in a group of four, talking, not paying any attention at all. The doorman saw us and his eyes widened. He reached for the lock, turned it and opened the door just as we arrived, and Zale flew through. It was all as if some magic wand had been waved before us.

Outside, fresh air surrounded my senses. The street was quiet, and Zale rushed across to the parking garage, never putting me down. Once we were inside the car, everything started to calm down: my breathing, my pulse rate, my thoughts. I kept squeezing Alexander’s body where he sat in my lap.

I turned to Zale. He was focused on getting out of the garage.

I said, “We didn’t get to have our last drink of the night.”

Zale stared straight ahead, a grim look on his face. I was afraid when he got on the road, he might speed, but he kept the car at the speed limit. Several times, he put his hand to his head. “Damn.” He said the word at least three times.

“Your hand is okay, right?” I asked.

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