He’s still holding me by the bare curve of my lower back, his palm warm and steady, pressing me against him. He’s dressed in black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, every muscle visible beneath the fabric. A baseballcap sits low on his forehead, shadowing those stormy eyes that somehow still find me in the dark.
“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice low, rough around the edges.
“You’re going to be recognized,” I whisper, glancing around the crowded room. My pulse quickens as I grab his hand and tug him through the throng, weaving between tables and dancers until I find a darker corner near the back.
The curtains to the VIP section are drawn, the area closed off for the night. I push through anyway, pulling him behind me, and let the fabric fall back into place enough to hide us from view.
“Rogue, if anyone sees you here, this place will go wild,” I say, voice breathless. “Everyone’s been drinking. They’ll lose it.”
He looks down at me, that familiar intensity burning in his eyes. His hand comes up to my cheek, tracing lightly down the side of my neck until his fingers brush my collarbone.
“You look so beautiful, kitten,” he murmurs, voice rough and reverent all at once.
Then he pulls me closer until there’s not a single inch of space left between us.
I should be worried about someone walking in. About being seen. About everything this could mean. But I’m not. Not with him this close. Not with the air between us charged and heavy and alive.
Every line we’ve drawn is blurring fast, and I can’t tell if I’m about to cross it or fall right through it. My chest tightens, my pulse wild. This isn’t just want anymore. It’s something deeper, dangerous, inevitable, and if this is a mistake, I’ll still remember the way it felt when he looked at me like that.
I reach up, fingers sliding around the back of his neck, and guide him down to me. Our lips meet and the world disappears. The kiss is desperate, greedy, every bit of restraint we hadlast night waiting to snap. His mouth moves against mine with urgency, heat flooding through me until I can’t think, breathe, or do anything but feel.
My body reacts before my brain does, my nipples tighten against my metallic top, my heartbeat wild against his chest, my fingers trembling where they grip his shirt. He’s hard against me, and when I trace my hand down his length, he groans into my mouth, deep and rough and utterly wrecking.
His hands slide to my hips, then lower, gripping me as he lifts me off the ground. I gasp, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, his strength effortless as he holds me there. Every move between us feels inevitable, dangerous, impossible to stop.
“Let’s go home, kitten,” he growls against my neck, lips brushing my skin.
“Okay,” I whisper, the word barely audible.
He freezes, drawing back just enough to look at me. “I don’t have to convince you?”
“You’ve done all the convincing I needed,” I say, breathless, my voice trembling with want. “Now let me down, and let’s go finish what you’ve started.”
Chapter 32
Catalina told her friends she was heading out, and there I was, hiding like an eejit behind the curtains. The boys thought I’d come to celebrate the win with them. They caught on quick when I told them I wasn’t there to party, I was there for her.
A few minutes later, we were slipping out of the club together, hand in hand. I didn’t plan this. When Thiago texted saying they were coming here and casually mentioned she’d be with them, I didn’t think twice. I didn’t plan on leaving with her either, but the second she said yes, the decision felt made long before either of us opened our mouths.
And now?Christ.I don’t know that I was prepared for how much I’d want this. Want her.
Smith steps out of the car as we approach. Ever the professional.
“Miss Catalina,” he greets, opening the door with a nod.
“Hi, Smith,” she says, voice soft, cheeks turning the sweetest shade of pink. She slips into the back seat, and I walk around to join her.
The second I sit, she melts into me, like her body was built to fit against mine. Her leg hooks around mine, her cheek finds my chest, and I wrap an arm around her. My hand lands on warm, bare skin. Smooth, soft, dangerous. I drag my thumb gently across her spine, and she shivers. I nearly do too.
I should have thought this through. When I asked Smith to drive today, I didn’t consider what it would feel like to be in the backseat with her like this, wanting privacy desperately and not having any.
“Where to, boss?” Smith asks, glancing at me in the rearview.
“Home,” I say. No hesitation. No question. My voice steadier than I feel.
He nods and pulls away from the curb.
I look down at her, and she lifts her chin, eyes locking with mine. One heartbeat. Two.
