Page 42 of On The Edge

The music fades away and fuck if I don’t want it to.

She’s fucking adorable like this. Sexy. Beautiful in so much more than the girl-next-door way I had her pegged for that first day.

And right before I make a decision that could fuck up this platonic thing we’ve got going, Maddix throws her head back and laughs. She pushes away from me, throws her hands in the air, and emits a little whelp as she shimmies her way back out to the dance floor.

We’re on the you can look but not touch plan.

She keeps moving like that and that plan is going to be out the fucking window.

Her eyes meet mine again. A slow, seductive smile crawls across her bee-stung lips as her hips move to the beat.

Definitely out the window.

“You two together?” a guy asks as he walks up beside me.

“No. Yes. It’s complicated,” I say in clear Maddix Hart fashion.

He laughs. “Then I take it that she’s fair game.”

“I think you should rethink that supposition,” I say.

But I have no claim on her. None whatsoever. And I don’t even want to. Or don’t even want her. She’s just here. A pawn in Kevin’s ridiculous game and a means to an end for me.

Keep thinking that. It’ll get you far.

And yet when the guy who asked me circles around her more times than I care to count . . . when his hands slide up her torso and he tries to grind against her, it’s time to go.

For my sake. For the gig’s sake—can’t have any press seeing my girlfriend grinding against someone else. For the need to avoid creating more media attention when my fist meets this guy’s face.

No closing down the club tonight.

Looks like I’m having all kinds of firsts.

And all of them are because of Maddix.

* * *

“You decent?” I ask as I stride out of the bathroom and into the suite.

“Nope. Nude it is,” she teases, her voice dreamy but playful.

“Must be my lucky night. I’m sleeping naked too,” I say.

“Cruz.” Her eyes fly open and then she gives me a dubious look.

“I made you look though.”

“It seems I’m always looking,” she murmurs as she sinks her head back down onto the pillow. What does that mean? Her yawn is in slow motion, her eyelids heavier with each breath. “So tired.”

“Get some sleep. The race week unofficially starts tomorrow.”

“Hmm.”

She doesn’t move as I slip into bed next to her. Whereas last night she kept her back to me, tonight she’s on her side, facing me. I take in the long sweep of her lashes, her flawless skin, and the way her pale hair lays across the white linens.

“You saved me,” she murmurs. “From the handsy man. And the weird one. And definitely the creepy one. You saved me.”

I reach out to brush hair off her forehead but think better of it. No. That’s not what this is. No physical. No emotional. Just pretend. “Don’t believe the lie we’re selling, Madds. I’m not a white knight and you sure as fuck don’t need saving like a princess.”