Great.
I knock back tequila number two and slip into the crush of bodies, the crowd swallowing me whole. I move, hips syncing with the pulse of the bass, eyes closed, and breath steady. For a beat, it’s just rhythm and heat.
Neon lights pulse, turning everyone into flashes of motion and chaos. Fingers brush my waist as another dancer slides past. I don’t flinch or stop moving. I came here to feel something, and I’m not leaving empty.
Then everything shifts, subtle as music bending a note. A presence behind me closes in without a sound. No words. Only heat and intent.
He doesn’t touch me again. Not quite. But he moves with me, hips aligned, breath close.
My pulse shifts under my ribs. My skin tightens, alert and alive.
He leans closer, his chest grazing my back, his hand ghosting over my waist. Then his voice slips into my ear, smooth as sin.
“You have my attention, Laurette.”
The words cut through everything, and the bass fades. All I hearis him, his breath at my neck, his presence pressing into the space between us.
It’s him.
“B.”
I turn, pulled by instinct, needing to see him. But his hand rises, fingers under my chin, stopping me.
“Not yet.”
My breath catches. He’s close. Too close. His touch is steady, his presence heavy, his scent clean and warm, threaded with something darker.
I don’t pull away; I don’t want to.
His mouth brushes my ear. “Did you mean what you said at Leviathan about wanting a man obsessed with you?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Raw. Honest.
My body moves without thinking, leaning back, needing more.
“You should be careful what you wish for, Laurette,” he says. “You’re waking something in me. Something that doesn’t let go.”
I still don’t pull away. Because I want more.
I tilt my head, voice steady even though my pulse is thumping in my ears. “You don’t get to choose this for me.Ido. I don’t belong to anyone not of my choosing.”
His laughter fans my ear. “It doesn’t work that way. You asked, and the universe answered.”
Then a dark chuckle rumbles from him, quiet but edged with danger.
“Obsession isn’t polite, Laurette. It doesn’t wait for permission, and it doesn’t knock. It finds you, claims you, and doesn’t let go.”
I should recoil, push away. But I don’t. I lean into his presence behind me.
“If this obsession isn’t mine to control, how does it work when I can’t even see the man behind the hunger?”
He doesn’t speak. He just breathes as we move together.
I’m not afraid. I’m not stepping back. I’m leaning in, challenging him. Daring him.
His voice curls around me, laced with something dangerous. “It starts when you don’t know I’m watching. You’re alone and unaware. Your lips are parted, your skin is flushed, and your body aches for a touch you can’t name. I’m there in the shadows, watching your back arch, watching your breath catch, owning every second you don’t know you’re giving away. Every breath you take is already mine, and you haven’t realized it yet.”
