Not combust in the fun way, in theI wonway, but theI just got cockblocked against a wall while seconds away from fucking her publiclykind of way.
My fingers were still sticky. I could taste her on my tongue, all sweet and addictive and ruinous. My jaw ached from how tight I'd been clenching it. My cock throbbed in time with my heartbeat—loud, constant, unrelenting—but the worst part? She fucking knew. She knew exactly what she was doing when she begged and whimpered and pressed back into me, as desperate as I was. When she reached between us and palmed me through my pants, tugging at my zipper like she was seconds from taking me inside her right there.
And I would’ve let her. Christ, I would’vehelpedher. Because the reality was, wewereseconds from doing exactly that.
My hands had been buried under that little dress, fingers had beeninsideher, and if those drunk fuckers hadn’t come around the corner, I would have my cock buried inside her right now—deep, raw, reckless. Fast and filthy, no protection. No hesitation. Just heat and desperation and the kind of madness that strips away everything you thought you knewabout control.
She’d lost it. I’d lost it. And now I was sitting in a club with her scent still on my skin, and my entire body screamed to go back down that hallway and finish what we started. It was all a goddamn game to the both of us, but it didn't stop me from craving her so intensely that I had to physically refrain myself from getting up.
"Welcome back, mate," Marco greeted. "Trouble in paradise?"
I tried to sit there as if nothing had happened. As if my cock wasn’t still throbbing and straining against my zipper. As if I didn’t just have Aurélie fucking Dubois in my lap, grinding her soaking cunt against me like she had every intention of setting me on fire. As if I didn’t just almost fuck her against a wall with a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.
She owned me, and she was very much aware of that fact.
Across from me, Marco and Kimi were losing their goddamn minds.
Marco wheezed through his laughter, whiskey swirling dangerously in his glass. “I swear, I didn’t look. I didn’t want to die, but holy fuck.”
Kimi grinned, barely suppressing a snort. “She played you like a fucking violin, Fraser.”
I dragged a hand down my face, trying to rub the chaos out of my system. “Shut the fuck up.”
They didn’t.
Marco leaned in, all smug and infuriating. “Something happened between you two when you followed her. And not just teasing—no. You’respiraling.”
“I’m not?—”
“Mate, look at yourself,” Kimi cut in, deadpan. “If she wasn’t under your skin, you’d be halfway to the back room with any of these pit chasers by now.”
They weren’t wrong. I knew what I looked like: a man unraveling. A man off-line, on the verge of detonation.
And yeah, I needed a fucking distraction.
When Marco dragged me up to go socialize, I didn’t resist. I threw back the rest of my drink and followed, trying to blur everything out—my thoughts,my want,her.
And then it happened.
I felt her from across the room. I looked up and there she was. The air snapped taut as I sucked in a breath, bracing for impact as her eyes locked on mine—and then she saw Katarina.
Katarina was the typical pit chaser, always dolled up and looking for a photo op before being an easy lay. Unfortunately for me, I’d slept with her before, had let her drape herself over me in public many times, so this wasn’t exactly out of character behavior from her.
Katarina was glued to my side, her nails digging into my leather jacket, her lipstick already leaving a mark on my collar I hadn’t noticed. Her voice was white noise, because the only thing I registered was theexpressionon Aurélie’s face–stone, flat, cold.
I had the inexplicable feeling that I’d just fucked up. I jerked away from Katarina like she burned me, but it was already too fucking late. Aurélie turned her back to me, no glance over her shoulder as she slipped out onto the terrace. Just… done. Something inside me fractured. I shoved my way through the crowd before I could even process it.
“Here we fucking go,” Marco muttered behind me.
The terrace was quieter than the club below, but the energy still pulsed around us. Miami’s humidity clung to my skin, thick and suffocating, mixing with the lingering scent of liquor and cigarette smoke from nearby. The bass from the music inside still thrummed beneath my feet, vibrating up my legs, but the moment I stepped onto the rooftop, the rest of the world fell away.
She was near the railing, her hands braced against the metal, her back to me. The skyline lit her hair like a halo. Her posture screamed restraint, shoulders tight, spine rigid. She was barely keeping it together.
And I knew exactly what that felt like.
I stepped forward, slowly and deliberately, but she reacted before I could speak. Her fingers curled tighter over the railing as she inhaled sharply. She knew I was there and she was waiting.
“Leave me alone, Fraser.” None of the earlier fire was in her voice, and fuck, I wanted it back. She was acting standoffish.
