Dante
I didn’t slow down. One second she was at the bar with her friends, the next she was over my shoulder, fists pounding against my back as I cut a path through the crowd. My men moved bodies out of the way with sharp looks, and the music swallowed her protests.
“Put me down!” she snapped, voice hot against my spine. “Dante, I mean it—put me down!”
I kept walking, jaw clenched, fury burning hotter than the lights above.
Then she hissed, low enough only I could hear:
“You should know… I’m not wearing any underwear.”
The words stopped me cold for half a second. My grip tightened on her thighs, the image hitting so hard it nearly dragged a groan out of me.
“You came into my club like this?” I growled, voice sharp with disbelief. “Bare. For everyone?”
She gave a wicked littl
