Bodies swayed all around, the pulsing bass thumping like a second heartbeat beneath my skin.
But even in the middle of it all, it felt like it was only the two of us.
His hand anchored me against him, strong and firm on my lower back, while the other guided mine up to his shoulder.
Our bodies moved together effortlessly, drawn like magnets, feeding off the undeniable current sparking between us.
His mouth found the hollow of my neck, planting a soft, lingering kiss that made my breath hitch.
My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping tighter than I intended, needing something to ground me.
Every brush of his lips sent tiny shocks racing across my skin.
"You're tense," he murmured against my ear, his voice deep and smooth.
I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.
eyes — dark, intense, unreadable — stared back at me with a heat that almost made me forget why my pulse had shifted from excitement to something far more complex. Almost.
"I wonder why," I said softly, raising a single brow.
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes this time. "You're safe with me."
The words should've comforted me. Instead, they felt heavy — like a promise, or a warning.
Out of the corner of my eye, movement caught my attention.
A tall figure lingered near the bar, barely lit by the spinning lights.
My heart skipped.
The man from earlier — the one who had watched us before — was still there.
Or had returned.
His eyes were locked on us, sharp, calculating, almost... possessive.
I felt the subtle shift in my dance partner's grip before I saw him turn his head slightly toward the figure.
Tension radiated off his body, though his expression remained calm, like a predator keeping careful control.
"You're being watched again," I whispered, unable to hide the edge in my voice.
He smiled softly. "Ignore him."
"That's getting harder to do.
" I searched his face, trying to read what lay beneath the surface. "Who is he?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his hand slid lower, pressing me even closer, as if shielding me with his body.
His lips brushed my ear again, his breath warm. "An old problem.
Nothing for you to worry about."
"That's not much of an answer."
My voice dropped, somewhere between playful and sharp. "I like knowing who's watching me."
His gaze flicked back to mine. "He won't touch you."
I swallowed the lump rising in my throat. That wasn't exactly reassuring.
The man at the bar remained motionless, eyes trained on us like a wolf studying its prey.
His presence wasn't accidental. He was there for a reason.
And if he'd sent those texts, that reason involved me.
"How does he know my number?" I asked softly.
A brief flicker crossed his face. Subtle, but there.
"I'll handle it," he said smoothly. "I promise."
He spun me gently in his arms, forcing me to shift my gaze away from the man at the bar, but even as I followed his lead, unease crawled beneath my skin.
My instincts screamed that this wasn't just about a jealous ex or a business rivalry. This was deeper. Personal.
The music changed, slowing to a softer rhythm. His hands slid up my sides, brushing dangerously close to the swell of my breasts before settling once again at my waist.
His face hovered close, lips parted slightly, gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth.
"Trust me," he whispered, voice low and intoxicating.
And God help me, I wanted to.
Everything about him pulled me in — the heat of his body, the way his touch made my pulse race, how his voice curled around me like silk.
But that message still echoed in my mind. Be careful who you trust. And now a second one: You're already in too deep.
Was I?
As the song faded, he leaned in and planted a soft, lingering kiss on my lips. His hand cupped my cheek, fingers tracing my jaw.
The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, a perfect balance of passion and restraint.
My knees weakened beneath me, and I clung to him, drowning in the warmth of his mouth.
And yet — even as desire bloomed, a cold prickle ran down my spine.
When we finally broke apart, the man at the bar was gone.
Disappeared. Again.
He led me back to our table, his arm protectively wrapped around my waist.
The club felt louder now. Sharper. My senses heightened.
"Let's get out of here," he said softly, his voice almost tender now. "Too many distractions."
I hesitated, searching his face again, trying to pierce the mystery behind his carefully controlled expression.
"Where are we going?"
He smiled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere safe."
The word hung between us.
Safe.
Safe from what? Or from who?
I exhaled, forcing a small smile, though my mind raced.
I had already stepped too far into his world, and the ground beneath my feet was shifting fast.
I slid my hand into his, letting him guide me toward the exit.
But one thought pulsed louder than the music behind us:
Am I falling into his arms… or into a trap?