Sienna yanked her arm free the second we cleared the sidewalk. She spun on me, eyes flashing under the neon glow of the Rusty Nail sign.
“You embarrassed me in there,” she hissed. Her voice was low but sharp enough to cut. “My coworkers were at that bar. Your coworkers. Jesus Christ, Mason.”
She realized it at the same second I did. The Royal Bastards owned half this town. Half the people in that dive had probably seen the punch. Word would travel faster than the blood dried on my knuckles.
I opened my mouth to answer, but my eyes flicked past her shoulder.
Rylee and the dentist were walking down the sidewalk maybe thirty feet away. Arm in arm. Laughing about something. She glanced over, saw me, and her step faltered for half a beat. Same small smile. Same knife in the ribs.
The clubhouse fairy lights and champagne toasts and that goddamn ring in my closet all crashed together in my chest at once.
Behind me the bar door creaked open again.
“Sienna? You good?”
Some dorky-looking guy stepped out. Wire-rimmed glasses. Button-down shirt tucked in nice and neat like he thought a dive bar was business casual. Coworker. The kind who probably had a spreadsheet for his weekend plans.
I’d had enough.
Clubhouse bullshit. Rylee on another man’s arm. Pink-polo hands on Sienna’s waist. And this woman right here setting my blood on fire every single time she looked at me like I was a problem she couldn’t solve.
“Yeah,” I growled. “She’s good.”
I took her by the chin. Not gentle. Not rough. Just enough to tilt her face up so those eyes locked on mine. Then I kissed her.
Right there on the sidewalk.
Her mouth was soft at first. Surprised. She softened for a heartbeat—body leaning in, lips parting like she’d been waiting for this since the stash house and we both knew it. Then she stiffened again, hands coming up to my chest like she might push me away.
I slid my tongue inside her mouth and wiped it slow and deep across hers.
She tasted sweet. Lime and lemon drops and dark chocolate. Something she must have had at the bar before the asshole put his hands on her. The flavor hit me like a shot of whiskey and I groaned low in my throat.
The kiss went on and on.
Not polite. Not careful. Hungry. Messy. Her fingers curled into my shirt instead of pushing. My free hand slid to the small of her back and pulled her closer until there was nothing between us but denim and thin cotton and the heat rolling off both of us. I could feel her heart hammering against my chest. Could feel the exact second her knees went a little weak.
I was hard as hell. Painfully hard. The kind of turned on that made the rest of the world disappear.
“Fuck,” I breathed against her mouth when we finally broke apart.
Sienna blinked like she’d just woken up from a dream. Her lips were swollen and shiny. She looked around slow—first at me, then past my shoulder. Her coworkers were standing inthe bar doorway now, three of them, mouths open, staring like they’d just watched a car wreck in real time.
“I… this is…” She trailed off, voice wrecked.
I slid my arm around her waist and tucked her against my side like she belonged there.
“We’re kind of seeing each other,” I told the group. My voice came out rough, final. “Come on, babe. Walk me home so I can change out of this shirt.”
I didn’t wait for her to argue.
I started walking, arm still locked around her, and she fell into step beside me. Her body was stiff again, but she didn’t pull away. Not yet.
The night felt a hell of a lot quieter now.
We didn’t talk the whole way to her place.
I kept my arm around her waist like it belonged there. She stayed stiff at first, then gave up and matched my stride because fighting me on the sidewalk would’ve drawn even more eyes. I knew exactly where she lived—same apartment complex I’d dropped her at a week ago after the ride from hell. She knew I knew. The eye roll she gave me when we turned into the lot said it all.
