Page 45 of Second Sin

Even in the chaos—even with half the team flanking our table like we’re the goddamn Stanley Cup—I feel him. That low thrum of attention from across the room. The weight of it against my spine.

He hasn’t moved.

Still slouched in his corner, forearms on the table, one hand wrapped around his drink like he might crush the glass if he squeezes too hard.

I'm too aware of him.

And every time I catch his eyes, my stomach flips. My chest tightens. That wildfire under my skin roars louder.

The guys are joking again—something about team bonding and body shots—and Harper plays along, sharp-tongued and fearless, tossing her head back and goading Tyler like it’s her full-time job.

And I’m laughing too.

I think I am.

But it’s too loud now. The music. The laughter. The heat in my cheeks. The pull in my gut.

I blink down at my glass. My hand is unsteady when I reach for it.

I’m drunk.

Not tipsy. Not pleasantly buzzed.

Drunk.

And the terrifying part?

I don’t care.

Not tonight. Not with him across the room, burning through me with every glance. Not with every shot melting down the lines I swore I wouldn’t cross. Not with this much noise, and this much heat, and this muchwantcrawling under my skin.

I laugh again—too loud, too easy—and feel it, that slow crack of something breaking loose inside me.

And when I look over, Sebastian’s still there.

Watching.

Like he’s daring me to do something about it.

CHAPTER 17

SEBASTIAN

Kane leans over. “Easy, man. You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off.”

I glare at the rookies. “If one of them even?—”

“Let ‘em look,” Kane says. “But if your fists twitch, I’ll knock you out before you even see it coming. Don’t make a scene.”

The steel in his eyes tells me he means every damn word.

Olivia laughs at something Harper says, tossing her head back.Her smile is real, wide and unguarded, the kind that doesn’t just light up her face, but burns through the air around her.

And it guts me.

Because I’ve seen her guarded. Careful. Walled-off like she’s holding herself together with threadbare seams. But this—this is her unspooling, light catching in all the places I didn’t know I missed until right now.

She’s gorgeous.

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