She looked up at me, her teeth biting into her lower lip. I so fucking wanted to bite her there too.
“If you don’t want a slow song—”
I cut her off by putting my hand on her hip and pulling her closer, but not too close. The last thing I needed was her tits touching my chest or worse, her body brushing over my dick, which was semi-hard since the moment she opened her door in that witch getup.
The top of her head barely reached my chin. My hand nearly swallowed hers. I looked like a big oaf next to her and it highlighted how different we were. And yet, she settled near me like a fucking puzzle piece.
“Are you having fun?” she asked as we swayed.
“Sure.”
She gave me her signature pursed lips that made my own lips twitch up.
“I’m enjoying this,” I said.
“I love dancing.” She let her head drop back, revealing her neck. I should have come as a vampire because I wanted to bite here right on her pulse point.
I watched her as she smiled and laughed. She was like champagne. Bubbly. But not in that perky annoying way.
“I was surprised Conner knew my costume. I didn’t think anyone would,” she said.
That fucker.
“He and many men seem taken with your costume,” I couldn’t stop myself from saying.
She smiled like she was pleased by the news. Jesus, she wanted to attract men. Well of course she did. She was also on a dating site.
One of the other men bumped into us. “Oh, sorry Petal.” He ogled her tits.
I swung her around away from him.
She let out a little squeal but smiled. “You take my breath away, Cyrus.”
I let out a little grunt and held back my comment about taking her home and really taking her breath away.
I pulled her closer and she rested her head on my chest. “You smell good Cyrus.”
I arched a brow, wondering if she was drunk.
“Like strength. And honor.”
“Those have scents?”
She shrugged and smiled up at me. “They do now. It’s what I always think of when you’re near. I’m safe.”
I liked that. I wanted to tell her I’d protect her. At the same, I didn’t want to be her bodyguard. She’s your friend.
I wanted to tell my conscious to shut the fuck up.
When the song ended, she stepped back.
“Hey, Petal, how about a dance?” The jerkwad that had just bumped us approached her as Michael Jackson’s Thriller started.
“Oh hey, Jacob. Yeah sure. I love this song.” She looked up at me. “Thank you, Cyrus. I really enjoyed that.”
I tried to smile but I probably looked like I had indigestion. I walked off and spent the rest of the night doing more of the same; Watching men ogle and drool over Petal, and me frequently finding reasons to get her away from them. We danced again. I brought her drinks. I took her outside for fresh air. I even bobbed for apples in a bowl of vodka just to keep her from those grabby men's hands.
It was ridiculous that she brought me to this. She’s your friend. I know it damnit, I told my conscience. Yet it didn’t matter. I couldn’t bear the idea of another man touching her.