She meets my eyes. “Thank you for believing in me.”
My voice drops an octave. “You make it easy.”
Ansel clears his throat. “Anyone want dessert?”
An hour later, we’re at a bar downtown. The lighting is dim, the whiskey is good, and the dance floor is crowded enough to feel intimate without being claustrophobic.
Ansel nurses his second whiskey, watching the crowd. Enzo leans against the bar, ignoring the blonde who’s been trying to catch his eye for the past ten minutes. All his focus is on Remy.
Remy sits between them, laughing at whatever the bartender said, her hair catching the light every time she moves.
I should stay where I am and keep my distance. Instead, I cross to her and extend my hand. “Dance with me.”
She looks up, surprise flickering across her features. “What?”
“Dance with me.” I keep my hand extended, steady. “Unless you’re an awful dancer. I wouldn’t want you to embarrass me.”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m not awful at anything.”
I believe it. And that statement makes me want to test that claim, preferably without clothes.
“Prove it.”
She takes my hand.
I lead her onto the dance floor, pulling her close enough that I can feel how soft she is, how perfectly she fits against me.
The music is slow, with a rhythm that makes bodies move in sync without thinking. Her hands rest on my shoulders, tentative at first, then more confident as we start to move together.
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Everyone sees you as the charmer. But you’re trouble.”
My hands settle on her waist, and my thumbs graze the exposed skin of her lower back. “You have no idea. But you like it.”
“I do not.”
I pull her closer, until there’s barely any space between us. “Liar. You’ve been looking at me all night.”
“You’ve been looking at me, too.”
“I have.” No point denying it.
Her breath catches. “Breck?—”
But she doesn’t finish her thought. She leans in, her body pressing against mine, and I pull her flush against me. Every soft curve molds to my body, and I can feel her heart racing. I lean down until her lips are inches from mine, close enough to taste the wine on her breath. My hand slides lower on her back, fingers splaying possessively across her spine.
I’m going to kiss her.
Right here, in the middle of this crowded bar, with my brothers watching from across the room. The whiskey is doing the thinking now, and I'm letting it.
My other hand tangles in her hair, tilting her head back.
And then she pulls back. Not far, but enough to break the moment. Her hands slide from my shoulders, and she takes a step away.
Her voice is unsteady. “I should go. It’s late.”
“Remy, stay.”
She looks up at me. “As I said, you’re trouble.” She swallows. "I can tell you've done this before. Made someone feel like they matter. But I can’t afford to be this stupid right now.”
