"Oh yeah," Nick confirms. "And she'd probably call it 'Betrayal in Blue Balls.'"
"Jesus," Ethan wheezes between laughs. "And here I thought the Saint family was scary. Your girl's got them beat, mate."
Something catches my attention—a pull, magnetic and undeniable. I look at the dancefloor to find Isabella staring at me, her eyes beckoning. Without a word, I stand, drawn to her like a moth to flame.
"And there he goes," Ethan announces dramatically. "Whipped as cream, ladies and gentlemen."
"Shut up, Hawk," I mutter, already moving toward her.
"Hey, it looks good on you, brother!" Ethan calls after me, followed by appreciative whistles and laughter from the guys.
I don't care. Isabella's waiting, and nothing else matters.
Her body moves like liquid sin, all swaying hips and knowing smiles. My mouth goes dry watching her dance, the way she teases me with each deliberate twist. The club lights paint shadows across her face, but that seductive gleam in her eyes burns right through me.
I reach for her without thinking, drawn by some primal need I can't control. My hands find her waist and I crush my mouth to hers, claiming, possessing. To hell with gentle—this kiss speaks of ownership, of mine. She doesn't push me away. Instead, she hums against my lips, a sound of pure satisfaction that shoots straight to my groin.
"Jesus, get a room," Alisha calls out from somewhere behind us.
"Oh, leave them alone." Emma's voice floats over the music. "Like you're any better with Cole."
"Seriously," Amanda adds. "Remember last week when—"
"We need drinks," Alisha announces quickly. "Many, many drinks."
Their laughter fades into the crowd, but I barely notice. My hands roam Isabella's curves, pulling her flush against me. She giggles—actually giggles—and the sound fills my chest with warmth even as my body burns with a different kind of heat.
The beat throbs around us, dark and seductive. Her fingers trail up my chest, and Christ, the way she moves should be illegal. Her body rolls against mine in perfect rhythm, every touch deliberate torture.
I lean down, lips brushing her ear. "Keep dancing like that, Red, and I'm going to bend you over the nearest surface."
Her breath catches. "Promise?"
The word hits me like a shot of pure lust. I grunt as my already hard cock strains painfully against my zipper. Her eyes drop knowingly to my crotch, that wicked smile playing on her lips.
"Problem?" She punctuates the question with another slow grind.
"Minx." I grip her hips tighter, trying to still her movements. "I can't go back to your friends like this."
"Then don't." Her teeth graze my earlobe. "Let's keep dancing."
The music pulses around us as Isabella's body moves against mine, her hips swaying in perfect sync with the beat. Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest, and I can't help but pull her closer.
"How're you holding up with the inquisition?" she teases, her breath hot against my neck.
"Surprisingly well." I lean back just enough to catch her eyes. "I like them. They're... real. Especially how protective they are of you." My thumb traces her hip bone. "It's good knowing you had them all these years."
Her expression softens, vulnerability peeking through her playful facade. "They're my family. When I had nothing else, they were there. Every tearful night, every small victory..."
"Do I..." The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest. "Do I belong in your family?"
She stops dancing. Her green eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath. "Sainty," she whispers, cupping my face, "you're more than family. You're part of my soul."
The world stills. Her words cut through every defense I've built, every wall, every distraction that's kept me functioning these fifteen years without her.
I've conquered boardrooms and built empires, but nothing has ever rendered me as powerless—or as complete—as this moment of recognition between us.
Because she's right. We've always been this. Two halves of something essential, finally reconnecting.
