"Get a grip," I scold myself, then add, "What is she thinking, letting Mikhail come here?"
Another round of bad thoughts rushes at me. Every bone in my body knows this is a bad idea. Blue's parents are a storm on the horizon, but Mikhail is the immediate threat. He's the one variable I can't predict or contain. He's the man who stormed Cloud's apartment and still hasn't whispered a word to Demi's or Blue's fathers.
Why?
Leverage?
Boredom?
Waiting for me to slip?
I exhale through my nose, counting to six, then do the same when I inhale. It steadies my pulse without dulling the edge.
Good. I need the edge tonight.
Stay on guard at all times.
Why am I putting myself in this position?
A loud bang ricochets across the room. My stomach tightens. I cross the living room and open the door.
Blue glows like she swallowed starlight. She lunges at me, tossing her arms around my neck. "Hey!"
I tug her close, my cock springing to life, kiss her, then retreat. I twirl my finger in the air and order, "Let me see you. Spin."
She beams and obeys. Black silk clings and drapes at the same time. The neckline climbs high in front but plunges low in back, stopping just above her mole that I know by heart. Her skirt hits mid-thigh, flaring slightly when she moves. Strappy black heels make her legs look endless. Her hair is loose, with waves spilling over one shoulder, and she painted her lips a deep berry.
She's sin wrapped in celebration.
My cock twitches. I mutter, "Jesus. You really are trying to kill me."
She wiggles her eyebrows, then launches herself at me again, tossing her arms around my neck, and pinning her mouth on mine like I'm a trophy she just won.
I catch her waist, lift her an inch off the floor on instinct, and kiss her back harder than before.
When I set her down, she's breathless, her eyes sparkling. She gushes, "My dress is the finale piece. The finale, Red. Mom put it in the grand finale."
"I know." I brush a strand of hair behind her ear. "You told me. I'm proud of you."
She practically vibrates. "I still can't believe it. Interviews. Front row for you and Demi. Press photos. I—" She stops, suddenly serious, searching my face. "This is real, right? Tonight. A real double date. No hiding in corners or sneaking out at dawn."
This is exactly why I'm doing this.
For her.
I cup her cheek. "It's real."
Her smile returns, softer this time. She leans into my palm. "I've never done this before. Normal couple stuff. With you or anyone."
The tenderness hits like a blade between my ribs. I want to lock the door, cancel everything, and keep her here where the only variables are her heartbeat and mine. Instead, I kiss her forehead. "Then let's make it good."
Her phone pings. She glances down, a high-pitched squeal flies out of her, and she spins in a circle. "They're five minutes out! Demi says Mikhail's driving. Can you believe she's bringing him? And she's playing with fire with him and Nikolai? She better give me details later."
My jaw flexes. "Nicolai?"
Her expression lights further. "Yeah. Don't say I said anything."
"Said what?" I genuinely ask.
