I straighten my shoulders, feeling something settle deep inside me, solid and certain. “Right now, I want to dance with you in front of everyone and makedamn surethat bastard knows this is real. That you’remine,and I’myours.” My throat works around the next part. “And then… then we’ll go home and figure out the rest.”
Nitro’s breath catches. Not visibly, not theatrically, but in that subtle way where his chest freezes for half a second as if the world just shifted. There’s understanding in his eyes, and something darker, hungrier, fiercer.
“You sure?” he rumbles, voice low, as though he’s giving me one last chance to run.
But I’m done running.
“I’m sure I don’t want to risk whatever this is between us,” I say, my pulse thundering in my ears. All that matters is the wayhe’s holding me like I’m precious, looking down at me like I am the only thing that matters, his thumb tracing patterns on my hip that make it hard to breathe.
“You’re staring,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the music.
“Can’t help it,” he murmurs back. “You’re beautiful, Marley. So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
The words settle over me like a blanket, warm, safe, and dangerous all at once. Because I want to believe him. I want to trust that this is real. I want to think we’re real, even though I know we started as a lie.
“Nitro—”
“I mean it,” he interrupts, his eyes intense on mine. “Every word. Derek was a fucking idiot to let you go. To make you feel as if you are anything less than perfect. And I know I’m not perfect either. But I swear to you, Marley, the way I feel about you, that’s the most honest thing in my life right now.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay, but before I can form the words, I catch sight of Derek watching us from the edge of the dance floor, his expression thunderous, and something reckless and vindictive rises in my chest.
“Kiss me,” I breathe, the words spilling out before I can think them through.
Nitro’s eyes go dark, his hand tightening on my waist. “What?”
“Kiss me. Right here, right now. Show everyone that this is real. Show Derek that he lost something he’s never getting back.”
For a heartbeat, he just stares at me, and I think maybe he’s going to say no. That he’s going to point out that kissing for an audience defeats the entire purpose of trying to be real.
In one giant step, he’s in front of me, then he bends down, his hand coming up to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing across mycheekbone with devastating gentleness. “This isn’t for show,” he murmurs against my lips. “Not anymore.”
The air changes.
It thickens.
It crackles with electricity.
He doesn’t move at first. He stares as if he’s memorizing the moment, as if he’s imprinting me somewhere under his ribs in that big heart. That look alone knocks the breath out of me, because no man has ever looked at me like that. Like I’m a choice he’s making, not by accident, not out of convenience, but deliberately.
And before I can even inhale, he slams his lips to mine.
Not softly.
Not cautiously.
Not like he’s asking.
But like he’s been holding this in for weeks, and his body finally snapped under the weight of wanting me.
I gasp, and he swallows it, pulling me flush to him, lifting me onto my toes as if I weigh nothing. My fingers clutch his lapels, desperate, needing to feel him, to anchor myself, because my whole world tilts as he devours my mouth as though he’s afraid I’ll change my mind.
Heat bolts down my spine, my stomach flipping, my knees threatening to buckle. My heart slams against my ribs as if it’s trying to break out and fuse itself to his. He kisses me deeper, slower for a second, then hungrier again, a rhythm that feels like he’s relearning and claiming me all at once. Sparks explode behind my eyes, and my skin feels too tight, too alive,too everything.
His hands slide to my waist, gripping, pulling me entirely into his chest until every inch of me is pressed against every inch of him. I feel him breathing and the barely leashed emotiontrembling under his skin, the need, the relief, the possession, his fear of losing me, all of it crashing into the kiss.
I moan, quietly, helplessly, and he answers with a low, guttural sound that hits me straight in my clit. He breaks the kiss only because breathing becomes necessary, but even then, he doesn’t let me go. Our lips brush, our breaths mix, our foreheads press together like we’re still kissing in every way that matters.
Both of us are gasping.
