Arden didn’t miss a beat.
Her voice turned syrupy-sweet, laced with steel.
“He doesn’t need ink. He’s already brooding incarnate.”
Gideon’s laugh was low, worn at the edges, unfiltered. His gaze lingered. “Good to know I’ve earned your approval.”
Their group’s laughter rose around them again, but the heat between them hadn’t dissipated.
The feeling lingered.
A steady burn under her skin.
A hum in his veins.
As they walked, Penny and Dan bantered ahead, their silhouettes full of chaos and delight. But Arden felt Gideon’s eyes on her, sharp and steady.
Watching her.
Reading her.
Wantingher.
And when she glanced back, just once, he didn’t look away.
Not even a little.
A promise flickered behind his expression, quiet, unspoken, and utterly certain.
One she wasn’t ready to name.
But she felt it all the same.
And when it came?
It was going to undo her.
From his corner of hell,he watched them play pretend.
A borrowed night. A borrowed table. Laughter that didn’t belong to them, especially not to her.
Arden moved through the haze of clinking glasses and half-drunken banter like she’d forgotten.
Forgotten him.
He lingered in the shadows just beyond the reach of the lights, the warm pulse of the brewery brushing his skin like an insult.
Hidden, but not distant. Close enough to hear the shape of her laugh.
To see the way Gideon leaned in like he had staked his claim.
Every glance. Every unearned touch. Every look that lasted too long.
They didn’t deserve to breathe the same air she did, let alone touch her.
That smug bastard sat there like he had a right to her, like expensive clothes and a family name were enough to protect her. To claim her.
As if watching her smile, hearing her voice, meant something.
