What should have been a fun, celebratory night was quickly crumbling into a headache, for you at least. You had put on your cute little outfit, did you hair, and now you were ready to let loose. Ajax and Logan helped with that, supplying you with drinks and shots before your cup was even empty. Partially because they wanted you to have a good time, but mostly to piss Keegan off.

He snatches your next shot out of your hands, tossing it back. “I think you’re done.” He growls, tone completely fed up with how much alcohol you’re consuming, though it doesn’t seem to be having any adverse effects on you.

You reach over and take Logan’s shot right out of his hand, quickly drinking it. “Don’t tell me what to do.” You say simply, continuing to dance where you’re stood. “You’re not the boss of me outside of work.” You smile, wanting to say more but knowing you shouldn’t poke the bear.

He attempts to argue with you, but you put your hand in his face. He has to take a step back to quell the rage he feels building up in him. Why can’t you see he just worries about you? Why can’t you see that he lives for you. If you’d just stop being so fucking stubborn and let him take care of you… well, who the hell knows what you two could be. Hours later he looks over to his team from where he is standing at the bar, and he nearly blows a gasket.

There you are, all legs and sex appeal, dancing on a table. Onlookers are cheering you on, most too enthusiastically. You move with a graceful fluidity that has him struggling between wanting to ravish you and wanting to punish you for being so openly sexy for all the other men in here. He can’t take it.

He storms over, shoving random men out of the way. “Get down.” He growls, the threat in his voice sending tingles crawling up your spine.