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“Well, I’m not leaving. I’m having fun.”

“You’re drunk, Kit.”

“What do you care? I can do whatever I want when I’m not on the clock, can’t I?” And I asked you to go out with me, and you turned me down. Hurt my feelings too.

I tried to pull free again, but he didn’t move an inch. Two bouncers walked toward us. One spoke in Sully’s ear, nodding at me.

“Tell them you’re with me,” Sully shouted.

“I have no idea who he is,” I yelled back. Oh, he didn’t like that, did he? Good. I needed space to lick my wounds. Tears prickled in my eyes, but hell if I’d let him see how much his rejection hurt.

One of the bouncers forced his way between us, and Sully had no choice but to let me go. Finally free, I pushed through the crowd and got lost in the dancing and gyrating crush of bodies, but the music had lost its magic. I couldn’t get Sully’s closed lips on mine out of my head.

Another drink at the bar did nothing to make me forget. I asked the bartender to close my tab and call me a cab. I might as well go home, since he had to ruin my night too.

I wobbled out of the club and sucked the night air into my lungs. The cool breeze filtered through my slightly damp shirt pressed against my skin, and I moaned.

I was so hot. Burning up.

“Hey, sweetie. Looking for a good time tonight?”

I blinked up at him, but the man’s face swam before my eyes. Fuck, I was drunker than I’d thought.

“Beat it, asshole.”

Sully.

Why was he everywhere I went?

I walked off but stumbled. This time he wasn’t there to catch me. Pain shot through me as my hands scraped on the asphalt. Fuck, I’d banged up my knees. Tears sprang to my eyes.

Strong arms wrapped around me and lifted me. Arms I shouldn’t take comfort in, but I clung to Sully’s neck and buried my face into his shirt. Why didn’t he want me? Why did I have to go and like a straight guy?

“I’m going to take you home, and you’re going to behave. Have I made myself clear?” he asked in that maddeningly soft but firm voice of his. A voice I wanted to obey.

I nodded but didn’t dare to look at him. If I closed my eyes really tight, I could imagine myself as Cinderella being carried from the ball when, in reality, I was nothing more than a sloppy drunk who would never be with this prince.


Tags: Gianni Holmes A Hitman's Bait Erotic