Sammie shakes her head again, firmer this time, and I almost smile; until he pushes. He leans in close, close enough that his voice dips into her ear. Sammie flinches. Sheactuallyflinches.
My chest heaves, the drink forgotten, anger boiling to the surface so fast it makes my vision blur. The room around me drowns in noise, but all I hear is the blood pounding in my ears.
I take a step forward, already planning to put my hands on him, already ready to break the rules I swore I’d keep tonight.
Then Sammie looks up. Not at him. At me.
Her lips part, her eyes wide, and I see her shake her head just barely, so small no one else notices. It’s not him she’s refusing. It’s me she’s speaking to, silently begging me not to snap, not to make a scene.
That one look stops me cold.
She’s protecting me.
The pirate laughs again and slinks off, finally taking the hint, leaving Sammie flushed, rattled, and trying to compose herself. But her eyes are still on me. And that alone makes the rage simmer into something darker, heavier.
I want her trembling like this for me. Only me.
I pull my phone back out, thumbs flying before I can stop myself.
You blush too easily. You should know better. Everyone sees it.
Her phone buzzes. She stiffens. She doesn’t move to check it right away, too scared of who might notice, but I can see the way her hand twitches toward her pocket like she’s starving for my words.
I wait. Sip. Watch her finally slide the phone free, screen hidden low.
Her cheeks blaze even redder as she reads. She bites her lip, hard, like she’s holding back a sound. She doesn’t know that the bite to her lip alone nearly snaps my control.
Another text:
You’re wet with nerves right now, aren’t you?
She freezes, her entire body going still in the middle of the crowd. I can see her chest rising and falling faster, like she can’t catch her breath.
And God help me, it makes me want her so much I ache.
She slips her phone back into her pocket too quickly, like it burns. Like my words are crawling up her spine. She presses a hand against her thigh, a nervous motion she probably thinks hides her reaction. It doesn’t. I see everything.
Every flush, every twitch, every secret little tell.
And it’s all mine.
I take another drink, just to keep myself from crossing the room. My jaw aches from clenching, my muscles tight like coiled springs. My desire is a living, snarling thing inside me, demanding release.
But not here. Not with all these eyes.
Wayne is somewhere in the crowd, I can feel his stare circling like a hawk. The old man thinks he can protect her by coaching boys like me, keeping her tethered to his side, but all he’s done is place her in my path.
And I’ll never walk away.
I shift deeper into the shadows near the kitchen archway, letting the crowd swallow me whole. Sammie glances around, her nerves sharp as she tries to track me. I could step out. I could take her hand, drag her against me in front of everyone. But no—that’s too easy.
She needs to feel me everywhere.
I text again:
Stop looking for me. I see you already. I always see you.
Her breath catches across the room, and she spins like she might actually spot me. But she doesn’t. That’s the point. I’m everywhere. I’m nowhere.
