“How do you know?”
“Because I saw you come in.”
I accept that… I think. It doesn’t matter. He’s here. I’m here. And I’m desperate for attention.
"You've been watchingme watch you." His voice is low, smooth, laced with something that makes my skin tighten. And there it is again. That pull. Stronger now than it was on that landing. Like a thread that's been taut since last night and just got yanked.
My heart slams. "Maybe I'm just observant."
He steps closer. The world narrows to the heat between us. His hand slides around my waist, slow, sure, possessive in a way that should terrify me. I catch the ink across his knuckles and something sparks in the back of my mind. A flicker. Gone before I can name it.
Instead, it short-circuits my brain.
"I don't think you came here to watch." His breath hits my ear, and I swear I forget English for a second.
I smirk, because fake it till you make it, right? "You always this forward with strange women?"
"Only the ones who look like they're about to start a revolution."
Well. Shit. My knees might actually give out.
The music shifts. Deeper bass, slower beat, sultry rhythm. He pulls me closer, and my body follows like it never learned the word no. Our hips move in sync. His hand tightens at my waist, fingertips grazing the edge of my thigh.
Every nerve is on fire.
Every rule I've ever been forced to follow burns away in the heat between us.
"Name?" he murmurs.
"Elle."
He smiles in that lazy, devastating way of his. "Pretty name."
"Yours?" I ask, breath hitching.
"Nik."
Just Nik. Short. Sharp. Like a knife. Figures.
His gaze drags over my face, down my throat, like he's memorizing me. “Who hurt you?”
Does he know? Is this a test?
“Does it matter?” I counter.
He considers it. “No. I suppose it doesn’t.”
I’m not sure how to feel about that. Did I want him to offer to kick someone’s ass? Play my white knight? My prince?
No. I don’t want a prince or a white knight. I want this man that I instinctively know lives in the darkness. I don’t want safe. I’ve been safe my entire life. I’m hungry for danger.
I press closer,because I've decided that tonight, rebellion looks good on me.
We dance like that, close and dangerous, for what feels like hours or seconds. I can't tell. The world blurs, the song fades, the lights dim to a softer pulse. With Nik, time doesn't matter. It folds in on itself, leaving just the press of his body, the rough heat of his hand at my waist, and the scent of him. Cedar and smoke. Like a warning that learned how to whisper.
When he leans in, his lips just graze my ear. "Come with me."
It's not a question. It's gravity. I've never done this before. Not the dancing, not the drinking, and definitely not this: being this close to a man and feeling wanted instead of watched.
