‘You can’t deny it,’ I continue, and when I shift in my seat, my knee presses against hers.
‘I’m not,’ she says slowly, eyes darting to where our legs are touching. That’s something neither of us can deny. The effect we have on each other is unmatched.
‘Come on, then,’ I say persuasively, tilting my lips into a smirk. ‘Let’s dance.’
‘Zayden is here.’
Using my chin, I point in the direction of the back corner, where Zayden has his tongue down the throat of a blonde. Anya screws her face up, probably not having realised it’s been a while since he left the table. My heart hurts for Zayden. He is desperate to forget his ex, and he thinks distracting himself with girls and booze is going to help. I hope it does, but I know it’s like sticking a Band-Aid over a gaping wound. I know that more than anyone.
‘I don’t know about this,’ she says, doubt clouding her face as she chews her lip, looking anxious. I hate that Dylan makes her feel like this. I can see the damage he has done, and it makes me livid.
Perhaps you’re so angry he hurt her because you did too.
‘Come on.’ I grin, nudging her with my elbow. ‘If you’re not going to let me punch him, this is second best.’
She eyes me for a moment. I see the gears in her mind turning. Relenting, she shrugs and places her hand into my open palm. I pull her to her feet, wrapping my arm around her without a second thought. Holding her so close, her scent washing over me, feels so right. My heart skips a beat in my chest. Her scent, her presence, her touch – they’re all much more intoxicating than the drinks I’ve been downing all night.
I see Dylan out of the corner of my eye. He stops suddenly, clearly seeing us, but I don’t let on that we know he is here. Leading Anya to the dance floor, I step back and twirl her around. She throws her head back and laughs. The neon lights splash across her skin, and heat spreads up my neck with every move she makes. Anya looks free and completely at ease as she dances, moving slowly and sensually.
She throws her arms over my shoulders, and I yank her closer, so close our noses graze. Her eyes lock on to mine, and a thrill shoots through my body. I’ve been numb for years, blocking out memories of her, and now they’re all rushing back in full force.
She exhales, her warm breath blowing over my lips. I lean in, pressing her forehead to mine. She is warm, soft, and feels perfect in my hands. I have no idea what spell she has me under, but I’m drowning in it and, honestly, I don’t care to be saved.
‘You’re a good actor,’ she whispers.
I drag her closer, leaving zero distance between us. ‘I’m not acting.’
My hands roam over her in ways they shouldn’t. With every moment that passes a new fire ignites somewhere inside my body. I swear under my breath in longing, pressing her body to mine. I want to kiss her more than I have ever wanted anything.
For a few seconds, I completely forget about anyone else around us. My hands slide down the sides of her body and grip the ass that has been taunting me all night. I give her a sharp squeeze, earning a delicious moan from her.
Clearly, I have no fucking self-control around her. Considering how much I usually have, I should be shocked that it slipped so hard and fast. But if I’m honest, it really isn’t a surprise. The alcohol has me buzzing. Light, careless, brainless.
Then suddenly, we are yanked apart, and Anya lets out an alarmed yelp. Dylan glares at her. She stares angrily back at him before he spins quickly, and a fist flies towards my face. Years of gruelling football games and training have thankfully taught me to react quickly.
So has being raised by my father.
I dance out of the way lightly, feeling the wind on my face as his fist soars past me. ‘You missed.’ I smirk, simply because I can’t help myself.
‘I always knew there was something between you two,’ Dylan spits, his cheeks red, eyes glossy. Sweat beads across his forehead, and I wonder if he has taken something more than just alcohol tonight. It wouldn’t surprise me; he used to deal back in school. Not that I think he ever told Anya that.
‘You were right. For once.’
‘Fuck you,’ he growls, pushing my chest roughly.
I stay standing where I am, glancing down at his hands on me. My fingers twitch, the urge to react a delicious temptation, but I swallow it down. I am not him. I will never behim.
‘If you actually cared for Anya, you wouldn’t have done what you did.’ Stepping back, I let my hands fall to my side.
Dylan’s upper lip pinches into a sneer and he lunges at me. A hard shove throws me back and I stumble as Zayden moves in front of me. He thrusts his elbow in an upswing motion, connecting with Dylan’s jaw. He yelps in pain, stumbling back and crashing to the ground. A few girls scream and dart out of the way just in time.
Dylan glares up at us, blood pooling in the corner of his mouth.
‘That’ll be the last time you ever lay a hand on Mason,’ Zayden tells him in a low voice. ‘And this is for Anya.’ Slamming his foot down, he crunches his heel into Dylan’s stomach. Dylan roars in pain, but the music drowns it out. I see the security guards rushing our way and I reach for Anya’s hand automatically, pulling her close.
Adrenaline washes through me like a tidal wave, and I love the familiar zing it brings. Considering everything I’ve been through, I know violence isn’t the way to solve anything, but I can’t deny it feels fucking good to see his blood right now. He makes me so angry I can barely think straight.
‘We gotta go,’ I say to Zayden. He turns, a wicked grin lighting up his face.
