Page 62 of Broken

“If you don’t take your hand off my wife’s ass right now, I will break every bone in both goddamn hands.”

I wrench myself out of my old college buddy’s grip, and his eyes widen in shock. “It was nice to see you, Craig. You should go.”

He blinks at me, then at Nathan.

“Craig, dude! We’re leaving!” someone shouts from across the restaurant.

He glances in their direction before turning back to Nathan and me. “Nice to meet you too,” he huffs, and goes to join his friend.

I sit back down, my neck and chest hot. “Why did you behave like that?”

Nathan sits too, a heavy scowl furrowing his brow. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Yes. He was just some guy from college.”

“He had his hand on your fucking ass.”

I roll my eyes. “It was my back.”

His narrowed eyes pierce mine, and he shifts forward in his seat. “Pretty sure I know the difference between your back and your ass, Mel.”

Tilting my jaw, I glare at him. So it’s okay for him to have beautiful women hugging him, but when I meet an old friend there’s an issue? What a hypocrite. “Pretty sure I know my own body better than you do.”

He leans closer, his scowl deepening. “I wouldn’t bet on that, corazón.”

I swallow, my skin burning under the intensity of his glare. “He was drunk, that’s all. I’m sure he didn’t know what he was doing.”

“So he did have a hand on your ass?”

I shake my head. “I never said that. He was an old friend, and you acted like a possessive jerkwad because he hugged me. Yet women are allowed to hug you, and when I question that, you…” I suck in a ragged breath as I recall the night at the charity gala last month. Wet heat sears between my thighs.

Nathan circles his hand around my wrist. “I what?”

“If I recall correctly, you said something aboutcurbing my bad attitude.”

His expression darkens, like he’s remembering that night too. “And I’ll do it again if I need to. Right here at this table.”

My lip trembles, but I glare defiantly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I’d love nothing more than to put you over my knee and spank the attitude out of you, corazón.”

“So do it,” I challenge.

He holds my gaze for a few seconds, his lips twitching, before he releases my wrist and calls the restaurant manager to our table. I can only watch as they have a brief but animated exchange in Spanish, and I’m starting to worry it’s becoming heated when the manager smiles and pats Nathan on the shoulder. With a polite nod in my direction, he walks to the nearest table of diners.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“Paolo is clearing out the restaurant for us.”

I blink at him. “He’s what?”

“He’s asking all of these people to leave,” he says matter-of-factly. “And then his staff will go home, he’ll go to his apartment upstairs, and you and I will have the place entirely to ourselves.”

I open and close my mouth, feeling distinctly like a goldfish. “You—what? You can’t do that.”

His eyes don’t leave mine. “I just did.”

“But… these people are eating. You can’t just toss them out in the middle of their meal.”

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