She should shove me off. Should claw her way free, but she doesn’t.
And that’s my undoing.
She’s fire and resistance wrapped in silk, and every time she twists like she might bolt, I tighten grip until she has no choice but to bend.
Peyton tilts her head enough to glare up at me. God, that look—daggers in her eyes, heat in her cheeks. Fury and pride and something else she doesn’t want me to see.
Jealousy.
It hits me like a sucker punch.
She hasn’t said it, but I saw the moment Melanie breezed in earlier, acting like she owned me. Peyton’s spine snapped straight, her eyes went sharp, and her jaw tightened. She thinks Melanie matters. That what happened in the pool house meant something more than a cheap way to bleed off pressure before it ate me alive.
She doesn’t understand. Doesn’t see that Melanie’s a placeholder. A body. Nothing but noise.
The only time I’ve felt anything that wasn’t numb, anything that cut deep enough to remind me I’m alive was when Peyton walked in and caught me. That look on her face. Like I’d carved her open with me bare hands.
And fuck me, but it gutted me.
Now she’s pressed against me, every line of her body rigid, and I know she’s still thinking about it. Still comparing herself to a woman who isn’t worth a second thought.
“Stop it,” I murmur low against her ear, my mouth brushing her skin as we turn.
She stiffens. “Stop what?”
“Thinking you’ve got anything to prove.” I press her tighter to me, my fingers digging into her hip. “Melanie doesn’t matter. She never did. You’re the one unraveling me, Peyton. You’re the one making me lose my grip in a room full of people.”
Her breath catches, sharp and shaky, before she tries to mask it. But I feel it. Iknow.
I drag her closer, until there isn’t a fraction of space left between us. “You don’t get it yet, do you?” My voice is a growl, private and lethal. “I don’t want her. I don’t want any of them. I want the girl who keeps trying to connive herself she doesn’t want me.”
The orchestra swells around us, but all I hear is the thud of her pulse under my thumb where it rests against her wrist.
I lean lower, my mouth at the curve of her jaw. “So go ahead. Be mad. Hate me. Fight me. But don’t you dare waste a second being jealous of Melanie. She’s nothing.”
I let the words sink in, heavy and dangerous, before I drag her through another turn, making sure the entire ballroom sees her in my arms.
Because she is mine.
Her head snaps back enough for her eyes to lock with mine, fire sparking there. “If I’m yours, Colter…” her voice is low, but edged with steel, “…then why Melanie? Why would you?—”
“Careful,” I cut in, my jaw tightening. The name alone leaves a sour taste in my mouth when it comes from her lips. I don’t want Peyton’s mouth forming her name ever again.
She doesn’t back down. Her chin tilts higher, challenging me. God, she’s the only person alive stupid enough, or brave enough, to stand in the fire with me and not flinch.
“Answer me,” she pushes. “You tell me I am yours but then you chose you. Why?”
The band swells, bodies twirl around us, but all I see is her. My grip on her waist tightens, almost punishing, until she sucks in a sharp breath.
“Because she was there,” I grind out, my voice so low it barely makes it past my teeth. “Because it was easy. Because for a second, I thought fucking someone else would silence the noise you put in my head. Because wanting you, and having you are two separate things, one of which puts a target on your back. But guess what?” I lean down, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “It didn’t work. You were still there. You’re always there and no matter how hard I try to justify it. Now matter how much I long to keep you out of my world, you keep pulling me in. Over and over again.”
She flinches, like my words strike harder than my hands ever could. But I don’t let her pull away. Not now. Now when I finally have her cornered in the truth.
Her lips part, but before she can spit something back, I move.
I rip her from the dance floor, ignoring the gasps and curious glances. My hand clamps around her wrist, dragging her past tables, past shadows, through a side door into the darkened hall beyond.
“Colter—” she starts, but I spin on her, pressing her back against the wall hard enough that the breath rushes from her lungs.
