I watch as Matthew grabs Damien by the collar and hoists him to his feet, their lips moving.
Heart in my throat, I push upright, and I’m moving before I can even process what I’m going to do. I just know I need to get to them and stop this—immediately.
I push through the crowd, my heart beating wildly inside my chest as I make my way to Matthew.
I should have known something like this would happen. Damien is a ticking time bomb. I should have seen it coming.
“Say it again to my face,” Matthew grits through clenched teeth, his fingers curling into fists by his side.
Damien’s smirk grows wider as he leans closer to Matthew. “I can give you every detail of how I…”
I push in between the two of them, my hand landing on Matthew’s chest. His muscles are stiff under my touch, his gaze firmly fixed on my ex.
“Matthew.”
My heart is hammering a hundred miles an hour as I slowly glide my palms over his chest, tracing his jaw, cupping his face.
“A girl’s gotta save you?” Damien mocks.
I jab my elbow back, feeling a thrill when I hear Damien suck in a sharp breath. “Shut it.”
The muscle in Matthew’s jaw tics.
“Matthew, look at me,” I urge, an unsettling feeling rising inside me.
He’s teetering on the edge, so close to snapping, and if he does, he’ll be in trouble. It doesn’t matter if he was wrong or right. We wouldn’t get a chance to leave the bar before half of Bluebonnet would have heard about the fight.
I can’t allow that.
Not because of me.
Slowly—so impossibly slowly—Matthew diverts his gaze to me.
The pure rage shining in his brown eyes should scare me, but it doesn’t.
The only thing that scares me is the possibility of Matthew losing everything he’s been working so hard to accomplish.
Because of me.
“Don’t.”
“Pussy whipped,” Damien slurs from behind me.
Matthew’s body tenses, and he starts to reach for Damien, but I tighten my grip on him, pressing my forehead against his. “He’s not worth it, babe.”
The endearment falls easily from my lips, and I can feel Matthew relaxing, if only slightly. I use that opportunity to push him back again.
This time, he doesn’t protest.
Damien yells after us, but his friends must have stopped him because he doesn’t try to follow as I guide Matthew to the makeshift dance floor.
Matthew loosens his grip and places his hands on my hips, pulling me closer to him just as the song changes to a slow one.
For a while, neither of us says anything. We just sway to the music. Foreheads still touching while our bodies move together as one.
His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, but I can see traces of that wildness shining in his irises.
I slide my hands over his chest. “Better?”
