His gaze lifts, snapping to mine. Surprise flickers there, quickly swallowed by something deeper, darker. His throat bobs as he swallows, and for a beat, we just breathe the same air, waiting for the world to start again. He moves—slow at first, his hand sliding up my spine, his other curling around my jaw. His lips find mine, soft and reverent, a whisper against the chaos around us. But the second I lean into him, it changes—deepens. The kind of kiss that erases everything else.
The crowd, the noise, the broken glass—it all falls away. There’s only him.
Only us.
Chapter thirty-three
Trey
On Your Knees – Ex Habit
The trip back to my place was met with retellings and exaggerations of the night’s antics.
Give it a rest, guys. I fucking hate it. Hate. It.
“Rocky who?” Chace snorts, raising his beer in salute. “Man dropped faster than my last relationship.”
“Please,” Sam adds, laughing. “That was art. If you’d done that in slow motion, we could’ve sold tickets.”
Logan just shakes his head, grin lazy and proud.
“You scared half the VIP lounge and didn’t even break a sweat. Classic Baker.” Sam snorts. “Though usually, it’s because of some sort of forfeit.”
I don’t say anything. Just slowly nurse my beer and lean back against the couch. The hum of conversation wraps aroundme—laughter, clinking bottles, the faint thump of music from the speakers.
I hate that my aversion of violence fucked off so quickly.
But…I did it for her. And I’d do it again.
Seraphina moves closer. She’s tucked against me, her small frame curled into my side. The scent of her hair—vanilla and cherries—hits me all over again. My arm slides automatically around her, pulling her closer. Her laughter is soft, quieter than the others, but I feel it in my chest. She’s relaxed now, finally—the tension from the club slowly bleeding away. When she tilts her head and presses a tentative kiss against my throat, right over the tattoo there, the noise in the room dulls to nothing. The touch is feather-light, but it burns. My pulse stutters. I look down just as she pulls back. Her eyes find mine—steady, searching, lit with something that makes my chest tighten.
“I want to…” she hesitates, lips parting, voice a breath against my skin, “taste you.”
Time stops. Her words hit like a slow current, knocking the air out of me.
Well, I am feeling considerably fucking better about my choices.
The room fades—Mac laughing softly, Logan saying something to Sam—but none of it reaches me. I swallow hard, my hand finding hers.
“Sera…” I whisper her name like a warning and a prayer all at once.
Her gaze doesn’t falter. There’s no fear there now—just desire. Honest, unguarded desire. The kind that cuts rightthrough my defenses. I draw in a shaky breath, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist.
“You don’t have to—”
Shut the fuck up, mouth.
Yeah, shut the fuck up. Cockblocking piece of-
“I know,” she murmurs, eyes glinting in the low light.
And… you fucked it. Great, fine. Cool. Cool. Cool.
“But I want to.”
And… we’re back.
High fives all around, bring it home boys.
