No Bad Days (Fisher Brothers 1)

“But I’m not. I’m not . . . not even busy.”

The drunk guy shoved me against the wall and extended his arms on either side of me, trapping me as he propped himself up with his palms. His words were mangled as he continued speaking to me.

He was drunk. Really drunk.

And he was strong. Too strong.

No matter how I twisted or ducked, I couldn’t find a way out of the human cage his arms formed around me.

His voice was drowned out by the sound of my heart frantically pounding in my ears. Not that his words were truly threatening; they were mostly filled with stupid things that drunk guys said when they didn’t want you giving your attention to someone else. It was his body language that caused my current heart palpitations.

It was as if he wasn’t quite aware of his own strength as he refused to let me get away from him. The more I struggled, the tighter his hold on me became. That’s what scared me more than whatever words were currently spewing from his mouth. His words couldn’t hurt me, but his hands could. And they were.

“Please stop,” I pleaded, my voice shaking. “You’re hurting me.”

“Hurting you. How’s I hurting you?”

His words were nonsensical as he moved his face dangerously close to mine. Then he licked his lips before diving straight at my mouth.

I turned my head quickly, cringing with disgust as m

y cheek was kissed and licked. Gross. I tried to push him away, but I wasn’t strong enough.

“Get off,” I said, my voice soft. Too soft.

“Stop pushing at me.”

He breathed drunkenly into my face, using his body to press me even harder against the wall. I was half surprised it didn’t swallow me with the force. When his hand moved down the length of my body, I stifled a cry as his fingers grazed my breast. Suddenly feeling ill, I froze as panic coursed through me.

A handful of people were nearby, close enough to help me, but I couldn’t find my voice. I’d been told what to do in situations like this, but my body refused to do it. I simply went numb. Too intimidated to move, too panicked to scream, too shocked to do anything but stand there, pressed against a wall in the dark with tears filling my eyes as some drunk guy tried to grope me.

“What the fuck?” I heard before feeling the release of pressure.

All at once, I was free. I slid to the floor, struggling to right myself, my knees weak with relief and my legs shaking.

A loud thump drew my gaze as I saw Nick pinning the drunk guy against the other wall, his muscular forearm pressed against the guy’s neck. The drunk struggled, probably the same way I had, but this time Nick was the one who was stronger.

“You like cornering women? Make you feel like a tough guy to know that you’re stronger than a girl? How about now? Not feeling so tough now, are you?” Nick spat out, and I noticed the guy’s cheeks turning an unnatural shade of reddish purple.

“Nick!” I pounded on his back. “Nick, let him go. He can’t breathe. He’s just drunk. Nick!”

I shouted and pulled at his flexing shoulder, his muscles taut and hard. He glanced at me, and when our eyes met, he dropped the guy like he’d never existed in the first place.

“Jess, are you okay?”

Nick’s strong arms that only moments ago were being used to inflict pain now wrapped around me, and his hands gentle as he comforted me, touching me with care.

I started to cry; I couldn’t help it. The emotions over what had just happened overwhelmed me. It was everything—the drunk guy’s actions, my fear, my shame over my inability to help myself, and Nick’s reaction to it.

“Nick,” I whispered, but the word barely came out.

“Come on. I got you.”

He lifted me into his arms, cradling my body as he walked me down the rest of the long hallway toward what I assumed was his room.

Falling or Something Like It

Nick