I look over to Dylan with a questioning glance. “Bad breakup,” he mouths at me.
I nod in understanding.
“There are more,” Wyatt slurs. “They needed to change. There was this little bitty red head I’d love to get my hands on.”
I chuckle at his enthusiasm. “How long has it been since you’ve been laid?”
He winces. “A while.”
“What’s a while?” I ask genuinely curious if his definition is the same as mine. The last time I went without sex for more than a couple of days was—.
“A year,” he winces again.
I nearly spit out my whiskey. “A year,” I rasp.
“I had a girlfriend, but we were on tour. When we got back— well, she decided she liked my brother better than me.”
“Fucking hell, that’s cold,” I shake my head.
The music changes and Crazy Bitch by BuckCherry starts playing. The other two girls walk in. One is walking backwards with her hands flying in the air. Her long, copper hair hangs to her waist in waves just above the tattoo that sits right above her ass. My dick rises high, but my temper rises higher as I remember every single time I traced that tattoo with my tongue, along with the dragon that trails from her ribs, over her hip, down to her thigh, and the one on the inside of that same thigh. The one that says my name.
“Shit,” I hear Dane say from across the room. “I got to go, muñeca.”
“Dane? What’s wrong?” Cami’s voice comes through the speaker phone loudly.
He puts his phone down quickly before he’s standing in front of me, blocking my view. I look up at him, blood roaring in my ears. I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. I see and hear everything going on around me, but the cold, hard fury running through me has me ready to explode.
“Get rid of the girls,” Dane hisses to Wyatt. “NOW.”
Wyatt’s attention darts to Dane. “They just got here, and I want that little one.”
My jaw cracks, my fists clench. My heart is pounding behind my eyes.
“Get. Rid. Of. Them.” Dane snaps.
“No,” I growl. “They stay.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” Dane whispers.
“They’re being paid to do a job. Well, let them earn their money. I’m going to make sure she earns every bloody cent.”
“Ryder, don’t do this,” Dane pleads.
When I don’t respond, he moves to the spot on the sofa beside me. My knee bounces restlessly as I wait for her to turn around.
Then she does.
And our eyes meet.
Lighting and fire and fury and destruction lash through the air like a celestial war on the brink.
She pales, her creamy skin turning nearly translucent. Her face shows pain and hurt that mirrors my own. But her pain is self-inflicted. She’s the one whodecidedbased on something my mother said. She’s the one who left. She’s the one who broke us— who broke me.
She closes her eyes. I watch her as the poison and venom that she injected me with all those years ago flows through my veins. It bubbles and boils and burns like acid, threatening to burn the last bit of rationality from me.
She breathes in deeply, squaring those shoulders like I saw her do so many times when she was determined to portray a confidence she didn’t feel. When she needed to steady herself. Her eyes open, those green eyes that are still turning my insides to fire after all this time, are cold, indifferent, and unfeeling.
They step into the room and begin to dance. All four girls move seductively and some of the guys are transfixed. But my eyes never leave her. Her awkward movements tell me she still isn’t confident in her dance moves, but more than that, they tell me that she hasn’t done this before.
