His hand is warm and strong. He helps me down and doesn't let go of my hand until we're upstairs in his office. He slams the door shut behind us.
"What the hell were you doing?"
"Dancing," I whisper, surprised by his tone and anger. His face is red, and his nostrils flare as he glances me up and down. "Anton told me I had to dance. That he needed a girl to cover the floor."
Nikita laughs darkly and runs a hand through his hair. He steps closer, invading my personal space. He smells musky, and I don't intentionally do it, but I inhale, taking a whiff of his masculine scent. My insides swoon, but I hide my desire, not that there's much to hide. Can he see the wetness coated between my thighs?
"You are never to dance in my club again." Nikita is steaming, and he takes a step back, pacing the length of his office. He shrugs out of his jacket, handing me his suit coat. "Put this on."
Is he embarrassed to look at me? "I'm sorry I don't look like your other girls. Like Ava and Bailey." I slip my arms into the sleeves and pull the blazer tight across my chest, folding my arms. I still feel naked under his scrutiny.
"Do you think that's why I'm mad?" Nikita grabs my chin, his eyes pinning me as his gaze lingers on my lips. "No man deserves to look at you like you're a piece of meat and they're starving."
"I seriously doubt anyone was paying that much attention to me." I dismiss his comment. A few guys were leering, but I'm not the most attractive girl downstairs, or the best dancer.
"No one is to look at you the way I do," Nikita says.
My breath catches in my throat. "Excuse me?" I croak. My mouth is dry, and Nikita stalks toward me. I take a step back, bumping into the closed door. I inhale a sharp breath, and Nikita blinks several times before moving me aside and slipping out of the office, slamming the door shut behind himself.
What the hell was that about?