Page 46 of Beg Me

As he slips his hand away from my elbow, an arm slides around my middle, pulling me back into what feels like a wall … a wall that smells like Jory.

Oh shit. I look up, my stomach dropping, as I peer into his eyes.

He winks at me but doesn’t let me go. I don’t exactly pull away, either.

“Who’s this?” Jory asks, drawing me closer to him.

I rest my head against his chest, wishing I could close my eyes and enjoy the softness of his shirt against the hardness of his chest. But the scene playing out in front of me is far too good to end prematurely.

Jory knows who Jasper is, and the kiss of protection embedded in his words is like adding a splash of gas on that fire I haven’t been able to extinguish.

Jasper looks at me, narrowing his gaze. He’s pissed. “New boyfriend?”

“I take it you’re the ex,” Jory says, humor in his voice. “Well, ex-boyfriend, meet the new boyfriend.”

What? My eyes widen, and I grip Jory’s forearm at my waist.

“Introduce us, babe,” Jory says.

Oh my gosh. I take a breath, not sure whether I want to laugh or cry.

“Jory, this is Jasper,” I say, trying to wrap my brain around the absolute ridiculousness of this moment. “Jasper, this is Jory Plath.”

“Noted,” Jory says. This time, there’s no humor anywhere to be found. “You ready to go, Markie?”

“Yes,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jory turns, his arm still tight around me, so that I’m facing away from Jasper. Still, I hear his voice.

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll break every fucking finger on both hands,” Jory says, his voice ice cold. “Understand?”

Oh good God.

My gaze connects with Nettie’s from across the room, finding her with her mouth agape and entirely too invested in what just occurred.

“Too much?” Jory asks, finally letting me go.

The break in contact is like a breeze clearing my mind. The chaos is gone. All that’s left is the stark realization that Jory not only declared to Jasper that we’re dating, but that he threatened him not to touch me again.

That might be illegal, and it sure as hell isn’t the polite Jory I know. But holy fuck, it’s hot.

I take his hand in mine. “Come.”

“Here? Now?” He snickers. “I mean, if you say so.”

I glare at him as I set what’s left of my martini on a table and lead him to the ladies’ room. Thankfully, for the first time in forever, it’s empty. Once we’re inside and the door is locked behind me, I turn to him.

The room is smaller than I remember. Or maybe it just looks that way with Jory taking up space. Either way, he’s within arm’s reach, and I know exactly how it feels to be wrapped up in those arms.

I take a step back, putting as much distance between us as I can.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, laughing. “I mean, seriously, Jory. What just happened?”

“Look, I walked in with Gray. He saw you first, and I followed his line of sight,” he says, searching my eyes. “And all I could see was that asshole’s hand on your arm and the way he was looking at you, and I just thought I’d, you know, see what was up.”

I fight a grin. “You introduced yourself as my boyfriend.”

It’s an accusation as much as it’s a fact. But it’s a charge that Jory doesn’t seem to mind.