“What the hell was that?” he demands.
“A charity demonstration,” I say, crossing my arms and meeting his glare without flinching. “I won fair and square. You’re welcome for the donation money.”
“That wasn’t winning, that was—“ He stops, and I watch the frustration ripple across his features. “That was dirty tactics from someone who’s never fought fair a single day in her life.”
“I followed every rule you set,” I tell him. “Stayed in the circle. Hands only. No strikes, no throws. It’s not my fault you got distracted and lost your balance.”
“Distracted,” he repeats, laughing. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What would you prefer I call it?” I ask, tilting my head and letting my voice go sweet and mocking. “Overwhelmed? Flustered?”
“You’re unbelievable,” he says, his eyes flashing dangerously.
“And you’re a sore loser,” I fire back, stepping closer instead of away. “Admit it, Midnight. I beat you fair and square and it’s eating you alive.”
“You didn’t beat me,” he growls, stepping closer too, and now we’re inches apart, close enough that I can see every shade of brown in his eyes, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his body through the thin fabric of my dress. “You cheated.”
“Prove it,” I whisper, and I don’t know why I’m whispering, or why my voice has gone breathy when I should be gloating, but his proximity is doing something to my head and I can’t seem to find my way back to solid ground.
We’re standing too close now, and the hallway feels too small to contain everything crackling between us. His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers there, and I feel it like a physical touch, like the press of his fingers against my lips. The air goes thick and charged with an energy I remember from late nights in his truck and stolen moments between classes, a chemistry that terrified me at eighteen and apparently still has the power to short-circuit my brain at forty-two.
“I loathe you,” he says, his voice rough, but he doesn’t step back.
“The feeling is entirely mutual,” I breathe, but I don’t step back either.
Neither of us moves, not toward each other and not away, just frozen in the space between, caught in the gravity of everything we’ve been to each other and everything we burned to the ground. His hand twitches at his side like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me, and my lips part without my permission, and I watch his jaw clench hard enough that I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.
The door bangs open at the end of the hall.
Voices flood in, laughing and loud, a group of people stumbling toward the bathrooms with the cheerful gracelessness of the thoroughly drunk. I step back with my heart pounding against my ribs.
“I have to go,” I say without looking at him, and I don’t wait for a response.
I turn and walk down the hallway toward the parking lot exit, my heels dangling from one hand and my pulse racing, and I don’t let myself look back to see if he’s watching me leave. I can feel his eyes on me anyway, the weight of his gaze between my shoulder blades, hot and heavy, following me all the way to the door.
The night air hits my face when I push through to the parking lot, cool and sharp and exactly what I need to clear my head after whatever the hell just happened in that hallway. I walk to my car on autopilot, slide into the driver’s seat, and sit there for a long moment with my hands on the steering wheel, staring at nothing while my brain tries to process the last hour of my life.
My thighs press together involuntarily, trying to ease the ache that’s been building since I felt him against me in that circle. I drop my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.
Welp. This trip home isn’t going exactly as planned.
CHAPTER 9
Dominic
The fight video blurs in front of me and I blink hard, forcing my eyes to focus. I glance at the clock. Nearly eight and I haven’t managed to get any meaningful work done. I stifle a yawn and reach for my coffee, only to find the cup empty. Fucking hell.
No matter how hard I tried to sleep last night, my brain tortured me with Brooke on a loop. The look on her face when she stepped into the circle. How close we were in that hallway, close enough to taste. Her legs in that goddamn dress, long and tan and going on forever, until my mind helpfully started supplying images of exactly how I’d like those legs wrapped around me.
I finally gave up and jerked off to her in the shower, which only made me furious with myself. This is a woman who destroyed my career. A woman I can’t stand, but apparently my body didn’t get that memo.
A knock on the door jolts me upright.
“Please tell me you’re decent,” Alex calls from the hallway, and then he’s already pushing through the door without waitingfor an answer, two coffees in one hand and a bakery bag in the other. “Morning, sunshine. I brought sustenance.”
“Thanks,” I say, picking it up. “Though you do know I have an espresso machine here, right?”
“I do, but I have no idea how to work that thing the way you do, and I figured I needed a peace offering.” He pulls a croissant from the bag and tears off a piece, crumbs scattering down his Harbor & Ash hoodie.
