“I was hoping you’d come see me,” I say, tracing my hand down his red silk tie.
“You know I can’t stay away,” he replies, his brow raised.
A man that looks decidedly drunk staggers down the curved hallway where we’re standing. “I’m next, sweetcheeks. Whatever he’s getting, I want seconds!” He leans close enough to me to slap my ass, and I hiss at the painful contact.
Before I can react, Edward has him shoved against the wall, his elbow in the guy’s throat. “You don’t touch a lady without her permission, fuckwit. You couldn’t afford anything private with her if you handed over your life savings,” he spits.
“Edward, he can’t breathe. You should let him go,” I say calmly.
He glares at him for another brutal second before releasing him. I pull on Edward’s arm to practically drag him into the private room with me. I try to control my breathing, but I’m already pissed over Jake, and now Edward stepping in when I can handle myself is too much.
“Why did you do that?” I ask quietly, facing away from him.
“Do what, Isabella? Let that asshole know he doesn’t have the right to touch you?” His voice is angry, exactly as I would expect.
“I deal with it on a regular basis; are you going to be glued to my side every second for the rest of eternity?” I turn to him finally, knowing my eyes are blazing in my fury.
“Do you think I enjoy imagining all the men that put their hands on you? Do you think it doesn’t take all of my strength not to throw you over my shoulder and leave this club with you right now?” Edward’s voice has taken on a low and deadly quality, something that he must utilize at work with errant employees.
“Do you think your caveman behavior turns me on? Because I can handle the idiots myself, I don't need your help!”
He’s in front of me in an instant, one lone fingertip dragging from my throat down between my breasts. “I know what turns you on, Isabella, never forget that.”
“Stop calling me by my full name like you’re admonishing a child!” I shout. If it comes out a little breathless, it isn’t intentional.
He narrows his eyes at my face. The next thing I know, I’m ass up over his lap as he sits on the couch. The slap to my ass cheek is as much of a shock as the one delivered by the stranger to the other cheek minutes earlier.
“You’re behaving like a disrespectful brat, Isabella.”
The second and third thwack come in rapid succession, and I’m forced to admit to myself that he really does know what turns me on.
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