Allyson's POV
Michael's expression turned to stone, his jaw clenching with familiar determination.
"Allyson, there's no way I'm letting you move your body to this music with every drunk man in here watching."
I rolled my eyes at his overprotective nature. "Michael, the dance would be with you, not them. If anyone's going to see me move, it'll be you. That's generally how partner dancing works," I shot back with sharp sarcasm.
"I don't care. Not in that dress."
"What could possibly go wrong? It's not as if any man here would dare to—"
His icy stare sliced through my words, making my breath catch in my throat.
Perfect. His protective instincts had kicked into overdrive.
I exhaled in frustration and turned to face him completely. "Fine then, Mr. Military Commander." I reached for my glass again. "I suppose I'll just sit here nursing my drink while everyone else enjoys themselves."
