Page 54 of Jolt's Vengeance

My fingers brush against hers as we both reach for our drinks, and the electricity between us is palpable.

"Oh, aye? And what other facts do you have stored away about me, Jolt?" Aggie challenges, arching an eyebrow.

Her tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of whiskey on her lower lip, and I'm mesmerized.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I tease, leaning back in my chair with a smirk.

My eyes never leave hers as I take another sip of my drink. "I might be persuaded to share... for the right price."

Aggie lets out a melodious laugh, tossing her bleached blonde hair over her shoulder. "And what price might that be, you cheeky bastard?"

I pretend to consider for a moment, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "How about one of those world-class lap dances you were bragging about earlier?"

Her eyes narrow playfully, but I can see the heat building behind them. "In your dreams, mister," she retorts, but there's no real bite to her words.

"Every night, Ghost," I murmur, my voice dropping low enough that only she can hear. "Every damn night."

Our playful banter continues for a while, but as the night wears on, I notice Aggie's mood shifting.

Her laughs become more forced, her smiles tighter.

I'm not sure what's triggered it, but I can feel the tension building.

It finally snaps when one of the dancers saunters over, clearly eyeing me. "Want another dance, handsome?" she purrs, running a manicured hand down my arm.

Before I can respond, Aggie's on her feet, eyes flashing. "He's good, love. Why don't you find someone else to entertain?"

The dancer backs off, hands raised in surrender, but the damage is done.

Aggie's jaw is clenched, her earlier playfulness completely evaporated.

"What the hell was that about?" I demand, rising to face her.

"Nothing," she spits. "I need a bloody breather."

She storms toward the exit, and I follow, my own temper rising.

Once outside, the cool night air hits us both, but does little to calm the storm brewing between us.

"Go home, Aggie," I growl, frustration evident in my voice. "Go back to your little college house and cool off."

Her eyes narrow dangerously, but I step closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between us.

My fingertips graze her cheek, a contrast to the harshness of my words. "Calm down, Ghost. You're mine, and I got you."

For a moment, I think she might melt into my touch.

But then her emerald eyes harden, and she looks me dead in the eye. "If I'm your lass, I'm part of the discussion. I'm not a bloody dog you can just take ownership of, you twat."

With that, she turns on her heel and struts off into the night, leaving me standing there, frustrated and turned on.

Christ, this woman is a force of nature.

Her fiery spirit, that sharp tongue—it drives me wild.

I watch her retreating form, admiring the sway of her hips and the way she holds her head high, even in anger.

A low chuckle escapes me as I shake my head.

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