My eyes snapped open.
The man standing in front of me was someone I never thought I'd see again. Wearing an expensive black suit with a black button-down shirt and dress shoes, he looked exactly the same. A little thinner, maybe. But so was I. I wanted to throw my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to turn my back on him and run away. Because this couldn't be happening.
"Tristan," I whispered.
Oh, my god. He was alive.
It wasn't possible. "But I saw you…" My words faded away. I couldn't make myself say it. My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at him, still unable to believe my own eyes.
I didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. I wanted to touch him, to prove to myself that he was real, but I couldn't seem to make myself move. Because as much as my body ached for him, I couldn't forget all the things he'd done.
And yet I craved his touch. I cravedhim. I'd missed him so fucking much. The darkest, most twisted parts of me wanted to lose myself in him the way I had before. But I couldn't. I wouldn't.
Would I?
"Dance for me, Luna." His deep voice broke through my spiraling thoughts, and I shivered. "Now."
As if compelled by some unseen force, I found myself moving, my body responding to his softly spoken command like it always had. I turned my back to him, trying to collect myself, but it was impossible. Not when I could feel the heat of his gaze burning into my skin.
Slowly, I began to sway my hips to the music, running my hands up my sides and into my hair. I arched my back, remembering the way he used to study me, the hunger in his eyes. The way he'd touch me after, his hands and mouth consuming me until I shattered in his arms.
I wanted that again. I wantedhimagain.
I turned back around, meeting his dark gaze. In the low light, his eyes looked black, fathomless. He watched me with that predatory stillness he had, like a panther waiting to strike. And, oh god, I wanted to be his prey.
Breath catching in my throat and silent tears wetting my cheeks, I slid my hands over my breasts and down my stomach to the thin strings holding up my barely-there bottoms. I hooked my thumbs beneath the fabric, toying with it, teasing him. Daring him.
His jaw clenched, and I knew I was playing with fire. But I didn't care. I'd already been burned by him. What was one more scar? Maybe someday, I'd have so many that my pain would match his.
My pulse raced as I caught and held Tristan's dark gaze, playing the seductress, every nerve in my body attuned to him. I wanted to ask him how he'd survived, wanted to ask him so many things, but I couldn't seem to form the words. So I danced.
For him.
Slowly, I turned, putting my back to him once more. I ran my hands over my hips, my ass, knowing he watched every move I made. My blood raced, sensitizing my skin, and arousal pulsed between my thighs.
The song changed, something slower, sexier, and I matched my movements to the sensual beat. I could feel Tristan's eyes on me, lighting my skin on fire as it traveled over my body. It made me shiver, made me ache.
Suddenly, he was behind me, so close I could feel the heat of his body against my back. My breath caught in my throat, and I froze.
"Don't stop," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "I like watching you dance."
A whimper escaped my throat at the rough, deep sound of his voice. I began to move again, swaying from side to side. He moved with me, his body brushing against mine, making me tremble.
I wanted his hands on me. I wanted him to touch me everywhere all at once. Wanted to feel the wet heat of his mouth and the sharp nip of his teeth when he lost control. I didn't care that we were in the back of the club where anyone could walk in. I didn't care about the other girls or my manager or the bouncers. I didn't care about anything except the way Tristan made me feel.
Alive. Cherished.
Loved.
He gripped my hips, his fingers digging into my skin, and pulled my back against his front. The hard ridge of his arousal pressed against my ass, and I bit back a moan. I wanted to grind into him, but I held myself still, waiting.
His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, making me shudder. "I've missed you,bambolina," he whispered. "Have you missed me?"
A sob caught in my throat as I turned and threw myself into his arms.
He stiffened with a pained sound, but I couldn't let him go. "I thought I'd lost you," I choked out, my fingers clutching at the back of his jacket. "You were shot! So many times! I saw the blood…" I trailed off, the memories of that night hitting me full force.
At first, he just stood there with his arms hanging at his sides. Then, ever so slowly, his hands slid over my hips and around my back until I was fully embraced in his arms. He shuddered as he buried his face in my hair and breathed deep. "Shh," he murmured, his hand stroking down my back. "Don't cry. I'm here. I'll always come for you, Luna."
