Shari leans close to my ear. “If you don’t sleep with him tonight, I’ll do it for you.”
I choke. Bryce raises a brow.
“No pressure,” Shari whispers, “but… pressure.”
Bryce steps closer, voice low enough for only me.
“You okay?”
I nod, but it’s a lie.
Because whatever this is, it’s no longer manageable.
It’s wildfire.
And midnight is getting closer.
The city begins the countdown overhead on the large balcony clock.
Ten.
Nine.
The whole room chants.
Eight.
Bryce guides me toward the balcony doors.
Seven.
The cold night air hits my skin.
Six.
Fireworks sit poised above Nashville’s skyline.
Five.
No cameras. No crowd.
Four.
Only him.
Three.
He cups my jaw.
Two.
His voice is velvet and warning.
"If you don’t want me, stop me now."
One.
I don’t move.
