Page 9 of Dark Angel

He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest, and I felt his breath against my neck and had to work to suppress another shudder. I couldn’t be seen as weak in the eyes of a man like this, or I’d become a victim. Ideally, I wanted to fly under the radar and blend in with everyone else in the club. But my stupid curious butt meant it was too late for that now. My gaze was drawn to him every night I was on the floor, and now I knew he had been watching me too. I had brought this attention on myself.

God, he was so sexy, heat was practically radiating from him, and as much as I wanted to tell myself my shudders were purely based in fear because I knew that’s how Ishouldbe feeling, my truthful voice reminded me they were mostly due to something else.

Arousal.

“Just call me Emrick,” he muttered.

“Is there something I can help you with, Emrick?”

He chuckled again, and I had to bite my tongue to fight the embarrassment building in my throat, constricting it. I had intended for it to sound like an employee asking a simple question, but instead, the words were so breathy I might as well have asked if he wanted a blow job.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he whispered.

Emrick shifted against me, and I pressed forward into the counter, desperate to limit the contact with him. His body was hard, a solid force between me and any escape, his build and height while striking from a distance, was downright intimidating this close.

Too close.

Don’t get turned on,I told myself desperately, willing it to be true.

Because the reality was, the combination of danger and powerdidturn me on, and for the most messed-up reason. A reason I had been running from for years.

Am I uncomfortable?

No.

Do it more.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Lies.

And he knew it.

Another puff of air against my neck, like he was huffing out a silent laugh at my discomfort, or perhaps because he knew I was lying. His hands found my waist, and the way his palms rested in the curve above my hips and fingers splayed across my exposed midriff made me feel particularly small and vulnerable.

Carl would never let this shit fly. He’d protect me from Emrick and from myself. But Carl wasn’t here.

None of the bouncers here would protect me. They all worked for Emrick.

“How about now?” he asked. His dark voice barely more than a whisper, but it didn’t need to be. Beyond the thumping of the bass from the dance floor, muffled by the twisting hall leading to the kitchen, the room was empty and silent. I was so attuned to him, I swear I could hear his blood pumping through his veins. He pressed his hips against me, and I scrunched my eyes closed, gnawing my lip and biting back the moan that threatened to escape. He was hard. But he was dangerous, and this was a dangerous situation. I needed him to leave.

“Please.” I swallowed, my mouth dry.

Stop.

Keep going.

What was wrong with me? I know what those hands had done, the orders those lips had given, and no level of physical attraction was worth risking my safety. I needed this job, I needed the money, and I didn’t want whatever happened to the others to happen to me.

I didn’t want to risk liking it.

I’d left The Palace for this place and didn’t want to go crawling back after only two weeks.

Emrick’s chuckle was cut off as the door swung open, and immediately he broke contact, taking a step back from me. I took a grateful breath as my space was clear of his presence and finally dared to turn to look at him. But while my eyes were shimmering in tears of frustration I couldn’t contain, his expression was blank, unreadable behind the dark sunglasses.

The man who had come in with a tray of glasses stopped dead at the sight of Emrick, immediately staring at the floor and not even daring to stutter through an apology. I prayed he didn’t turn and leave, leaving me alone with Emrick again. Because all I could think was how the bench was a perfect height to sit on and be screwed by the incredible hunk standing next to me. But Emrick flicked his hood over his head and shoved his hands in his pockets as he stalked out of the kitchen. When I released a heavy sigh, the waiter looked at me, and we made brief but pained eye contact. He said nothing, and I didn’t expect him to.

He didn’t ask if it was consensual, if he had stopped something from happening, or simply come in after it already had. He had a job to protect as well, and no one questioned Emrick.

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