It was irritating... 

 

To watch you grinding on some other guy. 

 

And you knew he was watching. The shy looks you threw his way gave it away.

 

The club was dark, thick and pulsing, something he was thankful for as he tapped his finger lightly against the glass in his hand. He had seen you as soon as you walked in, that dress attracting the attention of every male in the club.

 

He knew you were trying to make him jealous.

 

...And damn you, it was working. 

 

He would never tell you though. 

 

A woman's hands crossed over his chest and he flinched, her hands immediately falling away. They knew he was with someone, and they knew it was against the rules. 

 

You just didn't know he had any. 

 

He had watched you get approached by the man at the bar; he knew his tactics, he knew you'd use him. It still pissed him off.

 

He sighed under his breath, taking a sip of the mixture in his glass, the sweet tang of the liquor swirling in his mouth for a moment. It was sharp and he slowly pulled the corner of his lip in his mouth as a response. His left eyebrow winged up, looking over the glass at you backing up on the guy.

 

You had zero idea what you doing. 

 

He shifted slightly in his plush chair, but something about the way you were trying both infuriated him...

 

And turned him on.

 

He was glad his black slacks were loose and resisted the urge to shift again, seeing that you were staring at him again. Those still-innocent eyes drove him like fire, even with some guy rubbing his along you. He didn't know who he wanted to punch more, himself or that guy.

 

But then again he wasn't one for violence. 

 

In fact, a few well-placed words always went farther than a pair of fists, which he planned on having with you once he got you alone. 

 

Which is what he wanted to do right this very second. 

 

Only he couldn't let you know you were affecting him. That would mean you would know you were winning. And he couldn't allow that. 

 

For this was a delicate game...

 

He couldn't turn his hand and let you know for now that you had the leverage. The end of this night would leave you begging, no, screaming his name...

 

He had seen you looking for something – him – and had placed himself in the lights, wondering just what you planned on doing.

 

So instead of saying anything, he just sat there, looking for all the world uninterested in your dancing. Matter-of-factly he reached up, letting his fingers lay

way to long on the cute waitress's fingers when he passed her the glass. He'd needed a refill. 

 

The pout you gave him unconsciously in response had him pushing down a smile. You wouldn't win this. He'd been playing this game for a very, very long time. 

 

Your next move was to reach up and your hand down the guys neck, and yes, it did irritate him even more...

 

But now that he was into this game, he knew how to shut you down. 

 

So he leaned over, whispering some nonsense compliment into the woman's ear next to him. It made her twitter and blush, covering . All of which you watched like a hawk. You looked kind of cute with that put-out expression on your face. That was something that made him love you, the way you kept nothing a secret. It was hard to hide from him in the first place, but with your face it was an open book. 

 

It was so different from the other girls that fluttered around him, always trying to entice him to break his rules. They had pasts they need to hide. They wanted something to sell to the tabloids. How good he was, what he said. He was never away from them, never safe. They always felt like little shards of cubic zirconia, shining brightly but ready to prove themselves fake. 

 

You had a different shine that he hadn't seen before. You didn't fit into anything he could find a slot for. You were in love with him, his group, his family, but it was all different. He could leave you somewhere and he knew you'd come back. He didn't have to worry about you throwing yourself at GD, or sleeping around while he was gone. 

 

Even then he still didn't know how to just let it be. He didn't know how to turn off all he had been for the last few years. So he still played some of his old games, still flirted a bit too much; he knew when he crossed the line whenever the hard line pushed your lips. He wanted to lean in to kiss the frown away,

but he was afraid when he let that emotion go it would all fall. 

 

So he kept his mouth shut. Even with GD screaming in his ear, he might lose you. The boy was ever the protector, upset by his friend's loneliness through the years. He'd gone as far as to introduce the two of you, and it had lasted. Something that surprised even the happy-go-lucky boy. 

 

T.O.P was something he had never wanted to say in his life.

 

He was afraid. Scared to death, to be precise. 

 

And there was no way in hell he'd ever let anyone know. 

 

So he'd play his part to a tee.

 

In fact, the delusional group leader was blowing his cell phone up about you now, the vibrating going off incessantly in his pocket. He was wondering where you were. You were supposed to be at the hotel and he thought you had been kidnapped.

 

T.O.P couldn't rightly pull out his phone and answer the messages now, saying you were in front of him. Dancing on top of someone. The much more

innocent boy would freak, stumble into the club and whisk you away, scolding you the entire time. 

 

He watched you slowly bend down to the ground, rubbing your against the guy and felt another feeling he couldn't place in his gut. Right when your eyes left him to lift back up, he let the deep frown cross his face. He did care – he just wasn't going to show it. 

 

As you lifted up the dress gapped a bit, flashing him a slip of...ah god, was that...? 

 

Yup. 

 

He wanted to march up to you, throw his coat around you and press you to his front. He wanted to punch the guy. He wanted to kiss you right on that floor and prove to everyone with their tongues hanging out you were his. 

 

The way your skin shined off the lights made him think of an angel and you in that dress, that scrap of material, made him think of the devil. It fit you in ways he wanted to peel off, made him wonder what was under it... you better have something under it. 

 

His was almost hurting him now. 

 

It was a pleasure pain that he had gotten used to with you, the very sight of you sending his body in different ways.

 

He used it to his advantage sometimes, using it to drive you crazy, making you forget you were furious with him. This was new, though, watching you dance.

He didn't know if he wanted to actually teach you how, or enjoy the timid way your body moved.

 

He was kind of worried if he did really teach you, you'd blow him away.

 

And not with your mouth, the way he liked it. 

 

He enjoyed watching you, the way your body moved and how you seemed to have the tiniest bit of enjoyment going-

 

All of a sudden the guy slowly eased his hand forward...

 

Grabbing a hold of your .

 

The only thing he could see was red.