Page 67 of Hate To Love You

I straighten up and head straight back to the booth the guys and I stole from the girls when they got up to dance.

Pat stayed home tonight, he said he had a big exam he had to study for. So Mason, Logan, Holland, and I are here tonight without him. Mason has been gone since the girls hit the dancefloor. He’s probably found some drunk chick to grind up against.

I’ve been watching Gwen dance with Lainey and Ellie for twenty minutes straight. She looked slightly out of place, like she wasn’t totally sure what she was doing, which is completely different from the way she carries herself around campus.

I slide in next to Holland, following his gaze to the dancefloor where Lainey and Ellie dance provocatively. An alarm bell goes off in my head when I notice that Gwen is not with them.

My mind automatically thinks about Ashton and that he’d threatened her. Was he here? I hadn’t seen him when I scanned the room from the top floor, nor had I seen him as I watched the crowded dancefloor.

My blood runs cold and my jaw tenses. If that mother fucker touches her, he’s fucking dead. I let him off easy with that beating, but I swear to God I’ll-

My thoughts are cut short when I catch a glimpse of the five four brunette dancing a few feet away from her friends. I wonder if she’s even noticed she’d drifted.

When the area around her clears a bit, I notice that she in fact, not dancing alone. A tall guy holds her hips as she grinds her ass all over him. Gwen’s thin arms slide up the stranger’s chest and back around his neck.

What the fuck is she doing? Does she know I’m watching her? Does she care?

My blood boils as I try to tamp down the raging jealousy attempting crawl its way out of me.

I stay seated, watching and waiting to see how this plays out.

Gwen turns around, keeping her hands locked around the guys’ neck as she sways her hips to the music. Then, she removes her arms from the guy and begins running her hands up her thighs and through her hair, making direct eye contact with me.

She doesn’t look embarrassed or upset that she’s been caught. In fact, a small seductive smirk crosses her lips, and she winks at me. The stranger presses against her again, his hands roaming possessively over her hips, but she ignores him, keeping her eyes locked on mine.

I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised I haven’t broken a tooth. So, she is doing this shit on purpose. Why?

The guy moves his hand to the small diamond shaped hole on Gwen’s stomach, and I watch as two of his grubby fingers disappear beneath her dress. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of me, even as I stand from the booth.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Holland as I begin to weave my way through the crowd toward Gwen, her eyes burning with challenge.

I come to a stop, standing in front of her, clenching my fists at my side to keep from punching this fucking guy in the face for touching what’s mine. All while Gwen keeps up with her movements.

My eyes narrow in frustration as I try my best to look unaffected by her little show, but I’m really fucking struggling. I’m so pissed she’s messing with my head, and I’m fucking turned on imaging her dancing on me like that. This woman drives me crazy.

I clear my throat, but it’s unnecessary since Gwen’s eyes are already on mine.

“Having fun?” I ask cooly.

“Yes,” Gwen says, finally stopping her production. She stands with her hands on her hips as she glares at me.

“What are you doing?” Gwen looks at me as if I’m stupid while glancing around the crowded dancefloor.

“What does it look like? I’m dancing,” she says pointedly. Fuck, how can someone this cute be so damn frustrating?

“No. What are you doing with him?” I seethe. The guy at least has the decency to back up a bit to give us some semblance of privacy.

Gwen looks over her shoulder at the stranger.

“Who, Matt? We were just-”

I step into her, watching as her entire demeanor changes, and I can hear the sharp intake of breath getting caught in her throat.

“I know what you were doing, Gwen. And now you’re done,” I say sharply as I grab her tiny wrist and begin to drag her through the crowd.

We turn a corner and I drag Gwen up the spiral staircase that leads to the VIP area. I shove her into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.

The harsh lights in the bathroom make her beautiful tan skin look flushed, her hair is slightly frizzy from the humidity in the packed club, and the dress she wears barely covers her perky ass. Her legs look long and toned, and the heels she’s wearing make her at least two inches taller than she is.

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