But I also knew as I watched him, too, as I felt that dark aura moving through the thriving, living space as the band readied to take to the stage, that I wanted more than just stolen kisses and illicit hands.
I wanted it all.
I wanted forever.
The main floor had been rearranged. The tables and low couches had been moved out, and a large barrier had been set up to create a huge floor in front of the stage. People vied and pressed within its boundaries, trying to work their way closer, while others were happy to snag one of the booths that ran along the walls.
Tonight, I was working upstairs where there was a second bar and pool tables, although there was another big crowd that had gathered on the balcony that overlooked the stage below.
Trent felt that area would be more secure, and I didn’t see a point in arguing with him. No reason to add to his stress when I could already feel every molecule in the man’s body on guard.
I was delivering a tray of beers to three guys on the balcony when the dim lights flashed and a furor of screams echoed through the cavernous space.
Rising and lifting.
Feet stomped and whistles of anticipation rang through the air.
Everything went dark, the energy held, before it cracked.
Busted wide open when the flashing lights hit the stage, strobing and slashing and inciting a riot that broke through the crowd on the floor.
Apparently, the band was happy to invite exactly what their name claimed.
They drove into a loud, tumultuous song. A driving rhythm and thrashing beat. The singer’s voice was rough and smooth and everything in between.
I rushed to keep up with the orders that flooded in as the band moved effortlessly from one song to the next. The singer was all over the stage, screaming his soul out like he was laying his heart at the trampling feet.
And oh, Leann was right—the stage was consumed by these aggressively gorgeous men. Each mesmerizing in their own way.
But none were as striking as mine.
I could feel the pulse of his stare when he’d ascend the stairs. The way my heart would pound a little harder, race a little faster as I pushed through the crush and did my best to keep up with the onslaught of orders.
It was wild in here tonight, in a way it’d never been before, in a way I didn’t expect.
Maybe Trent had. Maybe that was why he’d been so on edge. Why he’d wanted to scrap the entire thing because pocketbooks and tongues and hands were freer than they’d ever been.
The faces had become a blur as I was jostled and bumped and knocked around.
At least our glasses were plastic tonight considering half of them ended up on the floor.
I’d force a smile, take their money, ignore the catcalls and the wayward touches and the unwanted advances.
And maybe it was the trauma that remained right there. Something I’d shoved down and didn’t want to acknowledge.
Honestly, I knew I’d put on a brave face and hadn’t fully dealt with the fear.
There was no missing it in the way anxiety bubbled, buzzed, and gathered in severity as the night wore on. The whole time, I was riding a terrified edge of wanting to be strong and wondering if this had been stupid, after all.
A mistake.
If I’d foolishly put us in a bad position.
An hour and a half in, I felt frayed.
Ragged.
Like I’d crack at any second as I pushed through the throng.
I finally did.
Completely overreacting when some guy who didn’t know any better grabbed me by the wrist as I passed. I yelped and my tray toppled to the ground as I yanked myself free of his hold.
“Whoa, just want another beer,” he slurred, taken aback by my reaction.
But it was Trent’s that none could have anticipated. Or maybe it was exactly what I should have anticipated.
What I’d felt steadily building over the last two weeks.
The man a furnace waiting to blow.
Gasoline dumped on a smoldering torch.
Because he had the man thrown on top of a pool table in a flash so sudden that it made the crowd split.
People scrambled to get out of the way while Trent descended like a phantom.
A vicious storm.
From out of nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
In an instant, he was a blur of fury and fists that rained down.
Dark aggression. Fiery retribution.
Punch after punch on the man’s face.
Blood spurted from his nose, and it only seemed to spur Trent farther. As if he could beat any threat out of the guy who had made the mistake of touching me.
I rushed for them, trying to latch onto Trent’s arm. “Trent. Stop it. He wasn’t hurting me. It’s not him. It’s not him.”
Shouts roared around us, and a few people pushed in to try to stop the madness.