The buzz of the nightclub wrapped around us like a heavy velvet curtain, but all I could feel was his hand still resting on my thigh, warm, possessive, and lingering.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, and there it was again — that slow, dangerous smile.
The one that made it impossible to tell if I was playing with fire or falling into something far more intoxicating.
"You're trouble," I whispered, barely audible over the thumping bass.
He chuckled softly, his fingertips grazing my inner thigh once more, making my breath hitch again.
"And you like trouble," he whispered back, his lips brushing my ear.
I shivered at the sensation.
He was right. I did.
But even through the growing haze of desire, something shifted in the air around us.
A sudden, barely perceptible tension. Like being watched.
I followed his gaze — subtle but deliberate — toward the far corner of the club.
A man stood there, half-shrouded in shadow, watching us.
Not curious. Not casual. Cold. Calculated.
"Friend of yours?" I asked, my voice casual, but my pulse quickened.
He didn't look at me.
"Acquaintance," he said lightly, though his jaw tightened for just a fraction of a second.
"Don't mind him."
But I did.
I watched as the man slowly brought a drink to his lips, his eyes never leaving us.
It wasn't jealousy in his stare.
It was something else entirely. Something that made my skin prickle.
The stranger beside me — the man whose touch still burned on my skin — gently turned my chin back toward him. "Focus on me," he said softly, his tone wrapping around me like silk again.
And just like that, the spell pulled me back in.
His hand slid higher again beneath the tablecloth, as if daring me to forget the tension building just beyond our little world.
My breath came faster, my legs pressing together instinctively, trapping his hand between them.
He smiled, clearly enjoying my struggle to remain composed.
A new song pulsed through the speakers, louder, drowning out the sounds around us.
The lighting shifted, casting deeper shadows across the club.
I should have been paying more attention.
But his lips found the curve of my neck again, warm and inviting, as his hand continued its slow torment beneath the table.
The cold gaze from across the room remained. Watching. Calculating.
And then my phone buzzed.
A message. No name. No number.
Be careful who you trust.
The words burned on the screen like a warning I hadn't asked for.
My breath caught, heart pounding now for a different reason entirely.
I looked at him, my beautiful stranger, still tracing soft, deliberate circles on my skin. His expression hadn't changed.
Had he seen the message? Did he know?
The danger didn't break the heat between us — it twisted it. Sweetness edged with something darker.
Unknown. And thrilling.