Page 74 of Villainous Intent

“You threatened to drag me here by my hair if I didn’t come,” I reminded her, leaning in so she could hear me over the music. “This place is crazy. Is this really where Hunter lives?”

Dawn nodded, her smile turning sly. “He lives here, yeah. But Thomas owns it.”

My earlier theory calcified into absolute certainty. Yep, Cipher’s definitely playing games. A man who owned a sprawling penthouse didn’t actually want a tired, rule-obsessed Keeper who lived in an apartment that was smaller than his coat closet. He wanted to break my rules just to prove he could. He didn’t want me.

A sudden, sharp prickle of awareness broke out across the back of my neck. I knew immediately that Cipher hadn’t gotten caught up in his street clashes.

I turned my head, scanning the sea of bodies, and there he was.

He stood near the edge of the room, holding a lowball glass. He looked devastating. He wore dark slacks and a crisp white button-up shirt. The top two buttons were undone, exposing the strong column of his throat, and the sleeves were rolled up to reveal his forearms.

Dark, linear tattoos slashed across the skin of his forearms. I hadn’t known he had tattoos.

I glanced up and found him watching me, a slow smile forming on his face, like he’d caught me doing something I shouldn’t be. My cheeks started to burn and I forced myself to tear my gaze away.

Dawn poked my arm. “Let’s go talk to Thomas.”

“No.” The word snapped out of my mouth before I could filter it. I grabbed her wrist. “Is Finley here?”

Dawn blinked, her alcohol-laced enthusiasm faltering. “Yeah, but I thought you didn’t want to hook up with him?”

“I changed my mind.”

Her perfectly arched brow shot toward her hairline. “You want to talk to Finley instead of Thomas?”

“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely, yes.”

Dawn stared at me for a second, clearly baffled, before she finally shrugged. “Alright, your funeral.”

She linked her arm through mine and hauled me into the crowd. I glanced back at Cipher one last time but his smile only grew as he lifted his glass to me in a salute.

Dawn towed me through the crush of bodies, weaving past a group of tech bros arguing. We found Finley hovering near the kitchen island, clutching a beer.

Finley looked exactly how a museum curator and associate professor at Chroma Bay University should look. He had an easy, open face, his brown hair styled in a perfectly messy, approachable swoop. He was handsome. He was smart. He possessed a quirky, self-effacing sense of humor. He screamed normal, everyday man who didn’t have a penchant for blowing up downtown on occasion.

When he spotted me, his entire face brightened. He set his beer down and his eyes dropped to the hem of my dress before snapping back up to my face.

I stepped up to him and tilted my head, offering up a bright, engaged smile. I knew Cipher was watching. The oppressive weight of his stare burned against the back of my neck, mapping my movement in the crowded room. I wanted him to see this. I wanted him to witness me choosing normalcy and absolute boredom over his games.

Dawn made a hasty excuse about needing another drink and abandoned us. Finley focused his entire attention on me. He asked about my week. He listened to my answers. He made a genuinely funny comment about the university’s tenure track politics. He was considerate, polite, and safe.

He was everything I should want.

“You look incredible tonight, Annie,” Finley murmured.

He reached out and his fingertips brushed against my forehead, tucking a loose wave of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered, his thumb tracing a slow path down the curve of my jawline.

My brain sent the logical command to my nervous system. React. Shiver. Arouse. This was a handsome man touching me with clear, consensual intent.

My body ignored the directive.

My heart maintained a steady rhythm. My skin remained perfectly cool under his fingertips. Down south, the situation was utterly dismal. My pussy remained unbothered, barren of moisture. My clit was practically comatose.

The realization was infuriating. Cipher only had to grip my chin and I turned into a desperate, needy mess. Finley stroked my skin with genuine affection, and my body shut down.

I looked over Finley’s shoulder and my eyes locked with silver.

Cipher stood exactly where I had left him, but his casual posture was gone. He was terrifyingly still. His gaze dropped to where Finley’s fingers had just stroked my skin, the muscles in his jaw ticking. He pushed off the wall and started stalking toward us.