Until it isn’t.
Someone steps between us.
Decisive. Uninvited.
My breath catches hard.
Him.
Khai.
His presence is immediate and overwhelming, like gravity suddenly doubling. Heavy. Inescapable. One second Ryan is in front of me, the next Khai’s hand is on my waist, firm and possessive, pulling me flush against him. He’s so close I can feel every line of him pressed to me, heat and tension coiling tight.
I don’t even know how he got there.
I catch a glimpse of Ryan over Khai’s shoulder, confused, wary, something like intimidation flickering across his face. I try to apologize with my eyes alone, but Ryan’s gaze has already hardened, fixed on Khai with a scowl.
Khai leans in, his mouth brushing my ear.
“You’re dancing with me,” he says quietly.
It’s not a request.
And the night tilts violently on its axis.
Anger flares hot and sharp. “No,” I snap, shoving at his chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I don’t wait for an answer. I turn and storm outside, the night air slamming into my overheated skin like a shock. My heart is racing, too fast, too loud, like it’s trying to outrun him.
It doesn’t.
Footsteps follow. Fast. Certain.
“Don’t,” I warn, spinning around. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to barge in and decide things for me.”
His eyes are dark, stripped of softness, fixed entirely on me. “You were dancing with him.”
“So?” I shoot back, even as something traitorous twists low in my stomach. “I can dance with whoever I want. I’m not yours.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, he moves.
Sharp. Decisive. Inescapable.
He’s suddenly there, too close, his hands coming up, firm but controlled, pinning me against him like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. His body cages mine, heat and strength and intention, his gaze burning into me.
He leans in, his mouth brushing my ear, his voice low enough to unravel me.
“You’re wrong,” he murmurs. “You’re mine. You have been since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
My breath stutters. I shove at him again, even as my pulse betrays me. “No,” I insist. “We’re nothing. We’re not dating. I don’t belong to anyone.”
He doesn’t argue.
He kisses me.
It’s not gentle. It’s not hesitant. It’s consuming, stealing the fight right out of my lungs, swallowing my protest whole. My anger splinters, shattering into something dizzy and dangerous, something that makes my knees weaken despite myself.
My hands betray me, flying up to his neck, fingers threading into his hair as I breathe him in like I’ve been starving. His hand slides down my bare back, sending a shiver through me, one settles at my neck, the other firm and possessive at my lower back, anchoring me there.
