Page 106 of Never Your Girl

My vision tunnels, locking on her as everything else fades away. She looks at me like she knew I was here the moment she stepped onto that stage. Like she could feel my stare before she ever saw me.

Her lips curve into a small, knowing smile, and something inside me unravels. That smile isn’t for the crowd.

It’s for me.

The music swells, low and throbbing, as she moves in time with it, her body fluid and hypnotic. Her hands slide up her sides, grazing over her bare shoulders before trailing back down to her thighs. She dips low, her hair cascading forward as her fingers trace the curve of her legs. The soft, warm light of the spotlight catches on her skin, making her glow.

My breath hitches, frozen in my lungs.

She rises slowly, her back arching as she spins, her movements seamless and deliberate. It’s not just a dance. It’s a performance. And every move feels like it’s meant for me. The way her gaze flicks back to mine, the way her lips part as she undulates her body. It’s like she’s daring me to break as she continues to dance.

When her hands reach for the ties of her top, my fists clench at my sides. Part of me wants to storm the stage and drag her away, out of the spotlight, away from every leering set of eyes.

But the other part?

The one that’s captivated and helpless to do anything but watch?

That part knows she’s doing this for me.

Her top falls to the stage, and the crowd roars, but her focus stays locked on me. Jealousy and desire tangle into something darker, something primal.

The song builds to its climax, and she twirls once more before dropping low again, her hands skimming the stage as she tosses her hair back. When the music fades, she straightens, retrieving her top from the floor, her gaze never leaving mine.

The applause is deafening, but she barely acknowledges it. She holds my stare for one more beat, her lips curling into a smirk that sets my skin on fire, and then she slips behind the curtain, leaving the crowd in a frenzy.

I don’t remember moving.

One second, I’m rooted to the spot, and the next, I’m weaving through the crowd, pushing past patrons and dodging bouncers. My heart races, each beat echoing louder as I slip backstage.

The air is cooler, quieter, but it’s charged with her presence. The faint scent of rosemary and mint lingers, and I know it’s hers. My feet move of their own accord, leading me down the narrow hallway toward the dressing rooms.

I find Holland leaning against the wall near one of the doors, her top hanging from her fingers. She doesn’t look surprised to see me.

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” she says, her voice low and teasing.

“No,” I admit. “I couldn’t.”

Her smile softens, but there’s something guarded in her eyes. “What are you doing here, Bridger?”

I step closer, eating up the space between us. “I don’t know. I just needed to see you.”

Her head tilts to the side, and there’s a flicker of something in her eyes. Something I don’t want to inspect too closely.

“Are you all right?”

I shake my head.

I have no idea how to voice all the questions and doubts that continue to circle through my mind. Anything I say will only send us tumbling backward, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

Tonight, I just want her.

I want to forget everything that happened today.

I want to erase the image of her and Garret from my mind.

She pushes away from the wall, closing the distance between us. With her gaze pinned to mine, her palms drift to my cheeks. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I don’t.” Unable to help myself, my hands rise until I can cup the heavy weight of her breasts. My fingers tighten, and a soft moan slides from her lips. That’s all it takes for her eyes to darken and arousal to crash over me.

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