Muscle memory takes over. My body remembers him even if my mind fights it—remembers how to tilt, how to give, how to take. I press up on my toes, chasing more, drowning in the slick heat of his tongue, the way his hands slide down to grip my waist like he’ll never let go.
When he finally wrenches back, the separation rips through me like tearing flesh. Cold air hits my swollen lips. My pulse thunders in my ears, my skin buzzing, every nerve raw and alive like they were the last time we kissed.
He stays close, breath fanning my mouth. “Kiss whoever you want,” he murmurs, so quiet it’s only for me. “That won’t change a damn thing.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left trembling.
My heart slams against my ribs. My lips tingle, my body still arched toward the space where he used to be.
Why does he still wreck me like this?
“Blindfolds off, everyone!” Miranda’s voice cuts sharp through the haze in my head.
I yank the cloth away and blink hard against the sudden glare. My eyes adjust in quick, stinging flashes.
The circle stares back. Zayne’s grin is lazy, entertained. Emily’s lips are swollen, her gaze still dazed and faraway. Valerie stands statue-still, chin high, eyes scanning every face like she’s tallying points. Scott—shoulders squared, arms loose at his sides—locks eyes with me. Composed. Too composed.
Then I see them.
Two new bodies in the ring. A woman with long legs and sharp angles, radiating confidence in a sheer beach coverup over a hot pink string bikini. But it’s the man beside her who stops my breath.
Light brown hair catches the sun, hazel eyes steady and knowing. A body built from discipline, not vanity. The second his gaze finds mine, my chest cinches tight.
Him. My mystery kisser.
I trace the shape of his mouth, the patient curve of his smile—the same unhurried intention I felt when those lips covered mine, slow and deliberate, like he had forever to savor. A kiss that shouldn’t still echo inside me. But it does.
“Everyone, meet our wild cards—Ava and Damon,” Miranda purrs. “They’ve been playing along in today’s challenge and will be joining us as contestants.”
Gasps and murmurs ripple throughout. But I can barely hear them.
Scott’s stare burns at the edge of my vision—unmoving, fixed on me. Not on Damon. Just me. Like the rest of the deck dissolved.
The look steals the air from my lungs. It isn’t rage but rather something quieter. Darker. Like a door swinging shut on something fragile.
Then, slowly, his mouth curves into a knowing grin.
Damn him.
“Since they’re new,” Miranda continues, “they each get to pick someone for a one-on-one date tonight.”
Damon’s eyes flick between Scott and me. Not threatened but rather curious. Assessing.
The group starts to scatter as Damon walks straight to me.
“Lyla.” His voice is warm, smooth. He lifts my hand with easy confidence, pressing a slow kiss to my knuckles. The gesture surprises me. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“N-nice to meet you, too.”
His smile deepens, like he caught the stutter in my pulse. “Would you join me for dinner tonight?”
The deck falls silent. I feel Scott before I see him—heat rolling at my back, presence sharpening every inch of space. When I glance over, he hasn’t moved. But his eyes have darkened. Focused. Tracking the way Damon’s fingers still curl around mine.
After Scott’s kiss, the way his mouth claimed me, after his growled I need you still vibrates in my ears—I need air. Distance. Anything to break the pull.
I force myself to really look at Damon.
He’s handsome and gives off an energy that feels safe, uncomplicated, like solid ground after years of quicksand. He’s a man who makes a decision and stands by it. He’s possibility.
