“Much better. What time are we leaving?”
24
Ryder
Two hours. That’s how long Bianca’s been ignoring my existence, treating me as if I’m stale air.
Two hours too long.
I’m itching inside, drilling holes in her face with my stare, hoping she’ll swing those honey eyes my way, but no.
She elected to ride here with Carter and Hailey and hasn’t said a word or looked my way since“Stay away from me.”
It’s driving me insane. The pill would be easier to swallow if I hadn’t held her in my arms. If I hadn’t felt the heat of her petite body. If I hadn’t seen the fear on her face as I walked into Carter’s living room. If every instinct in my body hadn’t begged me to calm her down and keep her close.
But it did.
She’s never been more appealing than when her tough exterior melted, revealing she feels emotions other than anger.
Too bad it didn’t last long.
I scan the dance floor, watching the girls enjoy the evening. They’re glowing, smiling, dancing like the world might end soon. The tight black number hugging Bianca’s frame draws too many eyes. Men stare at her hips swaying, at her boobs bouncing in their tight prison, at her wasp waist, long legs, and pouty mouth...
My hand slides to my holster too often so I drop it onto my thigh, balling a tight fist. The other hand toys with my half-empty glass. It’s either that or sending a flurry of bullets into the brains of the men ogling Bianca.
Another ten minutes pass before Hailey grabs her arm, says something in her ear, then saunters away toward the VIP area.
Bianca doesn’t follow.
My knee starts bouncing, eyes burning into her as if I can summon her back here by sheer will alone.
I can’t. All I can do is watch as the music takes her.
Within seconds a random guy wraps his arm around her middle, pinning her to his chest. She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t startle, settling against him as if she’s known him her whole life. I clench my fist harder. So hard my nails aren’t far off breaking the skin.
This is fucking ridiculous. She’s a cold-hearted diva. Self-sufficient. Independent. Tougher than tungsten.
And yet, when her walls crumble, I’m dying to touch her.
The way she zeroed in on my lips earlier haunts me in the worst way possible... I’m full ofregret.
I should’ve kissed her. God knows I wanted to.
Maybe if I had, she wouldn’t be grinding against this soon-to-be toothless fucker, her hands draping over the nape of his neck, his face buried in her hair.
Koby snickers beside me. “Either beat the crap out of the guy or go screw another pussy. Your foul mood’s shitting all over my evening.”
I don’t grace his comment with a reply. Instead, I wash the bile climbing up my throat with a hefty sip of whiskey, the amber liquid burning my esophagus.
“We both know you want her,” he continues. “Stop fighting this and make your move.”
The guy with Bianca says something in her ear. Whatever he’s saying is met with a brief wide-eyed look ahead. So brief I’m not sure it happened, because in the next breath she fakes a smile and spins around, staring up at the guy.
He says something else, and this time, Bianca nods.
Adrenaline spikes in my veins when the guy grabs Bianca’s wrist, leading her off the dance floor toward a dark corridor. Where the restrooms are...
My heart accelerates as fast as my temper, going from zero to prison in the blink of an eye.
