Page 31 of Crossing the Top Line

My instincts kick in, and I turn my full attention to watch him. It’s hard to get a full read on him in the dim light of the bar, but there’s still a hardness to his eyes and a tightness to his jaw that makes me press my lips together in thought. It’d been Emily’s idea to come here, and the rest of us had agreed after a screeching bachelorette party got loud enough to drown out the band. She’s been ordering a ton of fruity cocktails, on Max’s dime, and every time Caleb tried to talk to his linemate about something, she’d huffed and sighed, rolling her eyes and changing the subject as fast as she could.

Typical puck bunny shit, of course. I wasn’t exactly thrilled about it myself, but if his body language is anything to go by, Caleb is about at his limit.

I down my drink in two swallows before getting to my feet. “Let’s get out of here before we have to hear ‘Sweet Caroline’ for the fifth time,” I say, heading to the bar to close out my tab.

It doesn’t take ten minutes inside the dance club for me to regret not lingering at the karaoke bar for longer.

Max and Emily are long gone, lost in the mass of writhing bodies on the dance floor. I almost wish I could see them; at least I’d be distracted from watching Tori.

Her face is lit up with a carefree smile under the ever-changing colorful lights, her curvy body moving with a mindless grace that takes my breath away. My memories didn’t do her any justice at all. That or she’s gotten more beautiful since I last saw her.

“Let’s do shots,” Eli says, bouncing like an over caffeinated chipmunk between me and Oliver at the cocktail table we’d managed to snag.

“No,” Oliver growls, not even bothering to look at our roommate.

I blink at the intensity of his command, not quite a bark but only just. And what’s worse, Elijah obeys, slumping onto his forearms while still bobbing his head to the beat. I take a sharp swig of my drink, eyes finding Tori in the crowd automatically. But I straighten as I realize she’s alone, Rachel nowhere to be found. Finishing my drink, I set the glass down.

“I’m gonna dance,” I announce, though I might have been talking to the brick wall behind us for all the response I receive.

I lose sight of Tori as I descend a short flight of stairs and join the dancing crowd. The temperature seems to shoot up at least half a dozen degrees as I maneuver through the bodies, trying to make my way to the last place I saw her. Sweat forms on my forehead and on my back, a thousand overlapping scents invading my nose all at once. I’m jostled around to the beat that shakes the floor under my feet, and I almost consider retreating after what feels like an hour of searching. But then there she is. I freeze as I watch her move, the sway of her luscious hips, the curve of her arched back, the way her hair catches the light.

Then, with a jolt, I realize she’s not dancing alone anymore.

Her arms are hanging loosely around the neck of some overly tanned fuck boy, his eyes glued to her face. And I recognize the predatory glint in his eyes, the triumphant smirk pulling at his lips.

Oh,fuckno.

I don’t have time to think as my instincts flare up, hot and insistent. I close the distance between us and slide up behind her, my arms wrapping tightly around her waist and pulling her against me, letting my body match her movements. Her arms fall away from the other asshole, and he looks up at me, his smirk turning into a possessive snarl. I return the expression as one of my hands wanders up Tori’s stomach, between her breasts until it comes to rest on her sternum, my fingers loosely gripping her throat, and by some miracle, she doesn’t fight me. But I only fully relax once the other alpha retreats into the crowd to find some other innocent woman to prey on.

For a few blissful heartbeats, time melts away, and I’m back in Michigan, back in the warm, dimly lit room where I last saw this beautiful creature in my arms. Our bodies fit together perfectly, our movements in sync without needing to speak. Her scent is duller now, tainted with something plasticky and artificial, but I can still smell her sugar and magnolias.

But then the moment shatters as she freezes, her entire body locking up. I stop, too, even as my stomach sinks. Whipping around, she glares at me. She steps back out of my arms, or at least she tries, but my arms flex, not willing to let her go yet.

“What the hell, Spencer,” she shouts over the music.

I open my mouth to respond, but she slaps my arms away and turns to leave. Maybe it’s the alcohol making me stupid, but something deep in the back of my mind screams in pain. I can’t let her get away, not now that I’ve felt her in my arms again.

I’m done giving her space. We need to talk. Now.

Before I can change my mind, I grab her wrist tight and pull her along with me toward the front door.

I’dsuspectedImighthave had too much to drink tonight, but my suspicions are fully confirmed. That’s the only explanation I can muster for why I let myself get dragged out of the club and out onto Bourbon Street by this caveman of a fucking alpha. But when he pulls us into a side alley away from the hustle and noise of the crowds, I finally get my limbs to obey me and rip my wrist out of Spencer’s grip.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are—”

“We need to talk,” he says, cutting across my angry snarl.

We’re just outside the orange glow of the streetlamps, but I can see the outline of Spencer’s face clear enough. Jaw set, feet planted, and arms crossed over his chest. I rock my weight onto my back foot, crossing my arms over my chest as well. He’s positioned himself perfectly in the center of the dim space so that I can’t easily slip around him and make a run for it. I’m sly, and he’s had a handful of drinks, but not enough to dull his reflexes enough for me to make a clean get away.

“Wedon’t need to do shit,” I start, voice laced with venom. “Youneed to take a fucking hint and leavemethe hell alone.”

Spencer sighs and shakes his head, a few stray curls falling into his face before he pushes them back with one hand. He looks at me again, something softening in his expression that makes my hackles rise. I might be drunk, but I’m not so far gone not to see the patronizing glint in his stupidly beautiful eyes.

“As much as I’d love to do that, Victoria, I literally cannot,” he says.

I let out a bark of laughter, motioning angrily at the mouth of the alley. “Says who? Walk away.”

He sighs again, and my jaw hurts from how hard I clench it.

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