Page 105 of Never Your Girl

Anytime, Ice. That’s what I’m here for.

I sit back and stare at the screen, allowing her words to settle inside me. Only then do I pull away from the curb and into traffic.

34

Bridger

Fuck.

I shouldn’t be here.

The rational part of me knows this is a terrible idea, but my vehicle still ends up in the Envy Room parking lot. I sit behind the wheel for what feels like forever, my fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly they ache. The sign overhead casts a soft glow over the lot.

I tell myself I just need to see her.

That’s all.

Just to...

Confirm what I already know?

Prove myself wrong?

I have no idea.

The fact that I can’t answer my own question pisses me off even more.

With a frustrated exhale, I climb out of the car and head for the door.

The music hits me first. It’s a deep bass that reverberates through my body as soon as I step inside. I keep my head down, avoiding eye contact, and stick to the shadows along the back wall. The place is packed, and the thought of any of these guys looking at her the way I do makes my stomach burn with jealousy.

Because I can’t lie to myself anymore.

I don’t just look at Holland.

I feel her.

In my chest.

Under my skin.

In the spaces of my life that used to be empty but are now charged whenever she’s near.

And that terrifies the hell out of me.

The lights dim and the crowd quiets for a beat before erupting as the next dancer takes the stage. My heart slams against my rib cage because I know before I even see her who it’ll be.

The air in the room shifts and the low hum of conversation dulls to a hush as all eyes turn to her. She’s wearing something black and strappy, the fabric hugging her curves in a way that’s both artful and provocative. The spotlight cuts through the dark, framing her body.

She looks like a goddess.

My throat goes dry. I try to swallow, but it’s useless as my pulse kicks into overdrive. She moves to the rhythm of the music, her body a perfect blend of grace and seduction. Each sway of her hips, every languid roll of her shoulders, pulls me under like a riptide.

Her gaze scans the room, and for a second, I think I’m safe. Just another face blending in the crowd.

But then it locks on mine.

That moment of connection is like a punch to the gut.

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