Page 47 of Love You Like That (Excess All Areas 4)

Alex had felt similar feelings on stage in Aberdeen. “Same. First night. Couldn’t believe it. We’re the same band, but not the same people we were a year ago.”

The twat and his friends moved closer to Jase and the girls. Loud. Drunk. And obnoxious with it.

One of the guys had moved up behind Zoe. Muscle shirt, which he knew she hated. Too much hair gel that she’d declared a health hazard. Most definitely not Zoe’s type.

Zoe’s eyes flashed wide when his hands snaked around her waist.

She shoved them away, but the guy tried to say something, grabbing hold of her again. Zoe stepped away from him then gestured to her ear. Obviously telling the guy she couldn’t hear. Alex glanced at Jase, urging him to step in, but of course he chose that moment to pull Cerys into his arms.

By the time the idiot had tightened his arms around Zoe’s waist and jerked her to his chest, Alex was halfway down the stairs.

“I’ve got your back,” Ben yelled, following him to the dance floor.

The guy grinned and put his lips to Zoe’s ear again, this time she flinched. See how the jerk liked shouting when Alex had punched him in the fucking mouth. Zoe tried to put her shoulder against the man’s arm to break free but wasn’t quite strong enough. When Alex was about three feet away from getting to her, the guy jerked suddenly and crumpled to the floor. He watched as Zoe bent over and yelled something in his ear.

Then stood and straightened her shirt before tucking her hair behind her ear. One of the man’s friends stepped into her space, but Alex tugged him out of it again and passed the arsehole to Ben.

When she finally saw him, she looked shocked. “Are you okay?” she signed.

She’d never hear him over the beat of the music. He nodded then signed. What. Then fingerspelled about. And pointed at her. He hoped she understood, offering her his hand. Zoe took it, stepping into his space. He put his arm around her waist to hold her close as she spoke next to his ear, her lips touching his skin in a way that made his cock take notice. “I’ve been dealing with dicks in nightclubs since I was sneaking into them with fake identification at seventeen. They put their hands on me without asking, I grab their nuts and twist without asking them either.”

Alex winced at her approach as much as he applauded it.

Painfully he spelled out what he wanted to say. “I w-a-s g-o-i-n-g t-o s-a-v-e y-o-u.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “You were?”

He nodded. Unable to escape the feel of her body so close to his, he gripped her wrists, tugging both behind her to keep her still and hold her flush against his chest. “Next time, think about letting me, Rocky.” He enunciated every word clearly, so she didn’t miss his point.

In the few longer-term relationships he’d had, he’d always gotten a kick out of taking the lead. Of taking control. That Atticus poem…the one about how behind every girl pretending she couldn’t open a pickle jar was a guy pretending he didn’t know that she could. He wanted to look after the other person. Not like a fucking pet, just a relationship where the equilibrium worked that way.

Zoe needed nothing from him, yet, fuck, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he was attracted to her. That she turned him on. With her masculine pyjamas and messy bob and defiant independence.

Part of him wanted the challenge of turning all that energy into a sobbing, gasping sexual mess. And a part of him wanted her to trust him with every part of her, to keep her safe.

But he knew the dance floor in the middle of Newcastle was not the place for it. Something told him that Zoe would want that to be private. Between the two of them.

“Let’s go get a drink,” he said and led her, still holding her by the wrist, to the edge of the dance floor and to the bar.

Once they had their drinks, Alex steered them to an upper-level balcony that looked out over the river and nudged her to the seats furthest away from the door where it was marginally quieter.

“Are you okay?” Alex asked once they were seated.

Zoe nodded. “Fine. There are men with grabby hands in just about every nightclub up and down the country.”

“I apologise.”

When she shrugged, her shirt slipped off her shoulder, and Alex gently pulled it back up. “One of the joys and horrors of being a woman. When you dress and dance and exist to honour yourself, there’s going to be a guy who thinks you did it all for him. I learned a long time ago that often de-escalation is mistaken for coquetry.”

“Coquetry?”

“Flirtatious behaviour. I’d rather just knee them in the balls and be done with the whole issue. Nobody ever mistook a broken dick for flirtation.”

Alex laughed. “I’ll remember not to cross you.”

“It’s a shame he was a prick. He was cute,” she said.

“Yeah? You hate muscle shirts.”

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