In the center of the crowd, Madison moves like she’s the only one there. Her carefree laughter cuts through the chaos, her hair bouncing as she moves to the rhythm. For a moment, all the noise fades away, and it’s just her and me.
“Montgomery, come play!” someone shouts from behind me. I glance over, seeing Trevor pointing to the table where they’re playing beer pong. I offer a quick smile and a shake of my head before my eyes return to Madison.
Suddenly, she catches my gaze—her eyes glint with that familiar smirk—and she lifts a finger, beckoning me over.
Making my way through the crowd, I start towards her. The song changes, swapping from a high tempo to something you’d probably find on a guy’s sex playlist.
I stop a respectful distance behind her, not wanting to get too close. Her smile is wide, and I can’t help its twin from stretching across my face.
“Nice game, hotshot.” Her eyes are a little hazy, telling me she’s definitely a couple drinks in.
“Had my good luck charm watching, so I had to impress.” Stepping closer, I lean down, whispering only loud enough for her to hear, “Truth or dare?”
Her eyes narrow playfully, “Dare.”
“Dance with me.”
She graces me with that damn laugh I could never get tired of. She grabs my hands, placing them on her hips, her lavender scent hitting me like a tidal wave, and every nerve in my body floods with heat.
Leaning back into me, she gives me a mischievous smile and murmurs, "Come on, Montgomery—let’s see what you’ve got.”
10
JAXON
My pulse slams against my ribs as her body presses into mine, the teasing curve of her ass aligning perfectly against my hips.
Fuck. Every nerve ending ignites, a wildfire spreading through my veins. My cock hardens almost instantly.
It's a test—a challenge wrapped in soft skin and a scent that makes my head swim. She tilts her chin, eyes flicking back to mine, full of something reckless, something dangerous—something that awakens memories I've spent three years trying to bury.
I should pull away. I should create space before I do something fucking stupid, before I shatter the fragile threads of whatever this is between us. But her fingers slide over mine, pressing them tighter against her hips, and suddenly, restraint feels like a foreign concept—a language I've forgotten how to speak.
The bass vibrates through the floor, through me, through her, a slow, hypnotic rhythm that demands we move together. Like we used to. Like we were always meant to.
Madison sways, guiding my hands over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hips, like she knows exactly what she's doing to me, like she can read every thought racing through my mind. A low hum catches in her throat, almost lost beneath the music, but Ihear it. I feel it. The sound reverberates through me, stirring something primal, something I've kept locked away since the day she walked out of my life.
My fingers flex against her, desperate and greedy, betraying the war raging inside me. One part of me screams to step back, to protect what's left of my heart. The other part—the part winning right now—wants to pull her closer, to claim what I’ve always desired.
But how the hell am I supposed to be careful when she's pressing back against me like this? When every roll of her body sends a fresh wave of heat clawing up my spine? When her very existence threatens to tear down the walls I've built to survive without her?
She tilts her head, her breath warm against my jaw. "You're holding back," she murmurs, her voice a mix of amusement and something darker, something that makes my grip tighten involuntarily. It’s like my body remembers her even when my mind tries to forget. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this, Jaxon."
Fuck. Me.
My name in her mouth, spoken like that—soft and taunting and achingly familiar—shatters whatever fragile restraint I have left. Three years of anger, of hurt, of wanting rush through me like a dam breaking. My gentleman's card is officially about to go out the window.
I shift closer, eliminating the last inch of space between us. My body molds to hers, my breath uneven as I match her movements, letting the music dictate the slow, torturous rhythm. The thin fabric of her shirt does nothing to dull the heat radiating from her skin, to mask the perfect curves I once knew by heart.
Every drag of her against me makes my pulse hammer harder, my blood thick with the kind of need I have no business feeling—not for her. Not like this. Not until I know why she left. Not until I understand how she could throw away fifteen years like they meant nothing. Not until she's ready to admit she broke more than just our plans when she walked away.
She exhales sharply, her hands sliding over my knuckles, then up my arms, her nails scraping lightly over my skin. Every nerve in my body snaps to attention, memories surging unbidden—her hands in my hair, her lips grazing against my throat. She's playing with fire, and she knows it, always has.
I'm nothing but a moth to the flame, knowing I'll be the one burned.
"Still holding back?" she taunts, her voice barely a whisper. The challenge in her tone sparks something dark inside me—a desire to show her exactly what she walked away from, to remind her body what her mind chose to forget.
I drop my head closer to hers, my lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You sure you don’t want me to stop?" The question comes out rougher than intended, raw with everything I've kept bottled up since finally seeing her again.
