Page 140 of Citius

Raising our joined hands, Alijah guided me through a slow spin, his voice featherlight against my cheek. “I have bad habits, Morgan.”

He drew me against him, eyes locked as he steered us deeper into the heart of the dance floor.

“I don’t communicate well when I feel stressed or hurt. Grew up thinking I didn’t deserve happiness, and even now with Joaquin, when Iamhappy…” Each whispered word lit my nerve endings on fire. “I want more—even though I know I shouldn’t. Because if I want something, it almost never happens. But I can’t help it, Morgan. I stillwant…”

I couldn’t bring myself to ask Alijah to finish the sentence. A verbal acknowledgment would only hurt us both.

“It was never my intention to upset you,” I said, trying to avoid stepping on the landmine of his growing affection. “And while I understand why you needed some distance—I can’t say I enjoyed the experience.”

“You…” His fingers tightened around mine. “Can be intimidating.”

“Yes, so I’ve been told.”

“It took all my guts to approach you. To get you to notice me. But I can’t compete with…”

“What, my commitment to my career?” I leaned in, my breasts brushing the lapels of his suit jacket. Frustration bled into my voice. “The fact I happen to have money?”

His subtle nod cut deep. “And Wyatt.”

“Nothing is going on with me and Wyatt.”

“Yes, thereis.” Alijah’s face dipped lower, bringing his mouth dangerously close to mine. “And Cal, too. Compared to them, I’m…”

“You think I’ve never hurt either of them? That I’m always as polite as I seem at work?”

The song swelled toward its crescendo. Our pace quickened. The room began to sway.

Honesty spiraled unchecked off my tongue. “You don’t really know me, Alijah.”

His brow furrowed, turning his expression into something wounded. “But I want to.”

“And I want what’sbestfor you—which should take me out of the running.”

The song ended, and we stalled out in tense silence. Our hands remained clasped together, breaths uneven as we avoided each other’s gaze, trying to prevent a proper disagreement from starting before the next piece of music kicked in.

A soft gasp escaped his full lips, draining the tension out of him. His head turned toward the bar. The image of Joaquin was reflected in Alijah’s dark eyes, as beautiful as a starlit night.

“He wants to check in.”

“So go,” I encouraged softly.

But Alijah refused. His grip tightened, a hiccup of panic cutting through—as if afraid that I’d disappear the moment he released me, that he’d lose his chance to voice the tender feelings I didn’t deserve.

“We can talk later, Alijah,” I said, trying to be the sensible one—which was nearly impossible when it felt like my wits were leaking out of my ears. “Somewhere quieter, more private. But we’ll finish this. Okay?”

Alijah gave my hand a final, almost painful squeeze. A perfect match for his pinched expression. “You promised.”

He headed toward the bar while I retreated from the dance floor.

A man approached me—a little older, probably a beta, his face flushed with one too many drinks. His hand reached toward my hips, trying to push his luck with the closest unmated woman in the room.

“Where you going, pretty girl?”

“Sorry.” A large, familiar hand settled on the nape of my neck. “She’s with me.”

The man all but evaporated under the weight of Cal’s genteel dominance. I drifted toward him instinctively but stopped short of letting our bodies touch. I wished we were alone so I could bury my face in his chest and decompress.

“Danced out?” he asked, covertly trailing his thumb along the asymmetrical neckline of my dress.

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