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“Heavy vodka? This girl likes to par-tay!” He’s slurring, and the glassy eyes are a pretty good clue that he’s already wasted. He’s on the younger side, maybe mid-twenties, and he looks like he’s having a great time. But I can’t tell whether he’s here with other people or not, which feels like a red flag.
“Just having a rough day,” I admit.
“Well allow me to make it better, pretty lady.”
Pretty lady?
I offer a tight smile. “I’m good, but thanks for the offer.”
He links an arm around my shoulders, and his hand accidentally brushes against my breast.
At least…I think it’s accidental. He seems pretty far gone.
“Please don’t touch me,” I say firmly.
“Oh, come on. Let’s have a little fun!” He leans down and tries to kiss me, but I swerve out of his grasp so his lips find my neck instead.
Fear grips onto me.
Ice fills my veins.
We’re alone in a crowd. It’s too loud in here for anyone to hear me if I scream, and everyone around us is wrapped up in laughter and drinks and conversation. Nobody’s paying attention to the guy trying to assault me, and maybe it’s just a kiss, but it’s his hands on me when I’ve told him no.
It’s his lips on me when I’m trying to get away.
Who knows what else he’s capable of, and the thought makes my heart race as shivers climb down my spine.
It isn’t the first time I’ve been in a situation like this, and the reminder of the last time makes me freeze for a beat in fear.
I will not be taken advantage of again.
Last time, he was my fiancé. He was the man who was supposed to love me most, and instead, he used emotional manipulation to get me to do things when I didn’t always want to do them. It’s not the same as being assaulted in a bar by a stranger, but the rising feeling of panic is the same.
I push him as hard as I can in the chest, but he’s too strong for me. The guy’s grip tightens on my arm, and I yell, “Let me go!”
I yank my arm as hard as I can from his grip, and as I turn to run from him, I smack right into the solid chest standing behind me.
“I’m sorry,” I yell, panic still pulsing in my chest, and I back up as bergamot flitters through the air to my senses.
I glance up to find Lincoln Nash staring down the guy who just tried to assault me, and written on his face is absolute and total rage.
“What the fuck just happened?” he demands.
“It’s fine,” I plead. I can’t have him getting in trouble on my account.
“What happened?” he repeats, his voice cold and deadly.
“He tried to kiss me,” I blurt.
“And you told him no?”
I nod.
He walks over to the guy.
“Stop!” I scream at Lincoln. I have no idea what he’s about to do.
He grabs the guy by gathering the collar of his shirt in his fist and pulls him back to a stand. “When a woman tells you no, it means no.” His voice is filled with venom, and despite the loud and chaotic volume in this place, somehow it comes out loud and clear. He turns to the bartender. “This asshole tried to assault a woman in here. Take care of him.”
