A bouncer heads toward us as we emerge, but I narrow my eyes, giving him a deadly look. The guy stops his advance. Smart man.
“Where is the guy?” I demand. I’m going to shove his balls down his throat for messing with my girl.
Summer twists around, scanning the club with an unfocused sweep. “I don’t know.”
It doesn’t matter—I’m being stupid. I’m not going to knock out a guy’s teeth in front of her, no matter how much I might want to. That lacks class. Getting Summer out of here is priority number one.
“Never mind.” I grit my teeth and lead her out of the club, where I hand my number to the valet guy.
Summer shivers as we wait for the car, the crisp autumn air far too cold for her outfit. I shuck my jacket, draping it around her shoulders. The valet driver pulls up and gets out. I beat him to open the passenger side car door and help Summer inside. Reaching across her, I buckle her seat belt.
“You’re sweet.” She rolls her head to the side and smiles at me.
“You might not think so when I’m through with you.” I wink to soften the warning.
I don’t mean it. I would never touch Summer without her consent. I would certainly never bully her. But she opened the door to my domination, so now I can’t help the dom-talk from tumbling out of my mouth.
She makes a show of sitting up taller and folding her fingers in her lap. “Uh oh. I think I’m in trou-ble.” She sings the last word, which is absolutely adorable. It also tells me she’s into it.
I slam her door and walk around to my side.
When I climb in, she leans her beautiful face close to me. “Are you going to spank me again?”
“I’m not sure you’d even register it right now.” I try to keep the amusement from my tone.
She sits back in her seat and folds her hands in her lap again. “Thanks for coming to get me.” She sounds a little defeated, and now I wish I hadn’t played hardball.
I expected more drunken sass. My chest tightens to hear the raw vulnerability in her voice. I reach out and brush my knuckles along her jaw. “I’m glad you called me, bambina.”
She looks over, her eyes still not focusing. “Are you going to punish me?”
“We’ll discuss it when we get home.”
“Which home? Can we go to your place this time?”
I furrow my brows. “Why?”
“I don’t like living alone.” It comes as no more than a whisper, and it wrenches my heart. My baby doll is lonely.
I don’t want to be the random guy she stuffs into her life to fill a hole, but I don’t trust anyone else to be that guy, either. “Yeah, we can go to my place.”
It’s wrong. I’m going to get myself killed if I’m not careful. But how can I refuse her? I’m not made of stone.
We drive in silence, and she sobers by the time we arrive.
I unbuckle her belt and reach across her to push open her door. She climbs out. At first, I think she’s stumbling on her heels because she’s drunk, until I realize she’s limping.
“Is your foot bothering you?”
She tosses me a rueful look and reaches down to take off her high-heeled sandals. “Yes.”
“Why do you wear those things?” I swing her up into my arms where she seems to fit. She smells like cranberries and liquor and her own tantalizing scent, sweet and intoxicating.
She lets out a surprised breathy laugh and tucks her head into my shoulder as I carry her up the stairs and into my apartment. Her weight bothers me—she’s too light in my arms. She’s never been anything but slender, but she can’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds now.
I reach the living room and deposit her on her feet. She looks around my apartment with a curious glint in her eye. Sitting on my leather sofa, I pat my lap.
She comes over, a flirtatious smirk around her lips. “Am I sitting or lying down?”
The corners of my mouth kick up, and I pull her over my lap. “Definitely lying down.”
This is how I wanted her the first time—stretched out over my legs, her punishment intimate. I slide her minuscule dress up and discover I was right—she isn’t wearing anything underneath. “Where in the fuck are your panties?” I growl. Was she trolling at the club and just caught a bad one? The thought makes me grit my teeth. I want to go back and gouge the eyes out of every man who even looked at her.
I bring my hand down on one of her cheeks with a loud slap.
“I didn’t like the way the lines showed.”
“That’s because this dress is too damn tight.” I know I’m being a dick. A woman should be able to wear whatever the hell she wants. But I can’t think rationally when it comes to Summer.