“What are you doing here, Jamie?”
Jamie took a step closer. “Why is Price all over you?” And just like that, the whole room narrowed to his eyes, blazing with hurt and heat. Not jealousy. Rage. Maybe both.
I smirked. “Ricardo?”
Jamie laughed, bitter and sharp. “You flirt with scum like that for fun?” He pressed a hand to my throat, pushed me back to the wall, acting as if he had control.
“He’s a mark, and I flirt with scum like that to learn things,Pretty.”
He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his voicedropped to something raw and jagged, as though it had been dragged through glass. “Don’t fucking do it again.” His gaze didn’t soften. If anything, it sharpened and sliced straight through me.
“What are you doing here?”
I could feel the heat coming off him, fury radiating like static. I turned away to break the tension, to stop myself from saying something I’d regret, but then he caught my arm—fingers iron-hard, voice cracking with something close to desperation.
That was the moment. The shift. The match struck the fuse.
He surged forward as if he wanted to shake or kiss me—I couldn’t tell which. We collided, words and breath tangling between us, fury giving way to something more raw. Something neither of us could name yet. And then all hell broke loose.
He slammed me against the bathroom wall, mouth hot and hungry on mine. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling hard enough to hurt as our teeth clashed. This wasn’t sweet. This wasn’t tender. This was raw need, frustration boiling over into something primal. He was marking me in a way that felt like insanity. Jamie’s hands were everywhere, ripping at my clothes as if they’d personally offended him. I matched his urgency, shoving hisshirt apart so that I could dig my fingers into the lithe muscle.
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he growled at my throat, biting down hard enough to make me hiss. “Coming here alone.”
“My undercover persona doesn’t need anyone backing him up.” I grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look at me. “And what’syourexcuse for being here alone?”
I didn’t let him answer, crushed his mouth to mine again, lifting him onto the sink. His legs wrapped around my waist, drawing me near, and I felt the hard length of him through our jeans. His hands slid under my shirt, calloused fingers tracing fire across my skin.
“I’m observing,” he confessed between ragged breaths, voice rough with desire and something like shame.
I should have been angry. Should have pushed him away, told him to leave. Instead, I dragged him closer, losing myself in the heat of his mouth, the pressure of my body on his.
The bathroom was filthy, the bass from the club vibrating through the walls, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered except Jamie’s hands on my skin, his breath hot, the way he said my name like a curse and a prayer.
He worked open my jeans, and I fought to open his, his eyes darkening as his fingers wrapped around me.
The sink creaked beneath our weight. Someone pounded on the door—once, twice—but we ignored it, lost in a haze of anger and need. Jamie’s head fell back to the mirror as I marked his throat, claiming him in ways I had no right to. His legs tightened, drawing me impossibly closer.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I growled. “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”
He laughed, bitter and breathless. “And you do? That’s what scares me.”
His was faster, rougher, and I matched his rhythm. We weren’t making love—we were fighting, still arguing with our bodies instead of words.
The bathroom door rattled again, followed by muffled shouting, and it pulled me back to myself.
“Fuck. Not here,” I muttered, backing away, quickly tucking myself back in and zipping up. Jamie did the same, his movements jerky, cheeks flushed with arousal.
“Killian—"
“Not anywhere! You need to leave. Now.” My voice was steady despite the chaos inside me. “Go out the back exit, don’t talk to anyone or look at anyone.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m not leaving you here with Ricardo fucking?—”
“Yes, you are.” I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to focus. “This isn’t a game, Jamie. These people aren’t the kind you mess with.” I lowered my voice, trying to keep the desperation from showing. “If they see you with me, and they track you back to Redcars, then you’re fucking everything up.
The pounding on the door grew more insistent. “There’s a line out here!”
“Occupied!” I shouted, heard cursing, but the voices grew quieter. “Let me be the smart one here.”
