Page 46 of Second Sin

Undeniably, unfairly, fucking gorgeous.

And I'm not the only one to notice.

They hover.

A slow circle of too-interested eyes and half-cocked grins—rookies mostly, but not just them. Tyler’s leaning in like he’sgot a shot, one hand braced on the back of her chair, all charm and confidence. Someone else hands her a drink like it’s some fucking offering. Another cracks a joke just to make her laugh, and she does.

Jealousy claws at my throat.I drown the last of my beer, the burn doing nothing to kill the heat already rising under my skin, and slam the glass down harder than I mean to.

The thud draws a glance from Kane.

“Relax,” he warns.

I don’t answer. Just stare straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

Blake drops back into the seat across from me.

“I’m heading out,” he says, eyes flicking between us. “Got early ice.”

Kane nods. “Yeah. I should bounce too.” He stretches his arms over his head with a low groan, then fixes his gaze on me. “You staying?”

I don’t move. Don’t blink. Just watch Olivia across the room, her mouth moving around a smile, her fingers wrapping around the shot glass someone just placed in her hand.

Kane follows my line of sight. Sighs.

Then, quieter: “Can I trust you not to do something stupid?”

The question hangs heavy between us.

I don’t answer with words. Just grunt—low, rough, barely more than a sound in the back of my throat.

He holds my stare for a beat longer, like he’s weighing whether that’s enough. Then he nods once, slaps the table with his palm, and stands.

They leave together—Blake already halfway to the door, Kane trailing behind, glancing over his shoulder once before disappearing into the crowd.

I stay.

The noise rises and falls around me—music thudding, glasses clinking, someone laughing too loud near the bar. But none of it cuts through.

Not like she does.

Olivia’s still over there, bright and burning, a spark I can’t stop watching. She leans in to say something to Harper, her fingers brushing her friend’s arm, her body loose and at ease in a way that makes my chest tighten.

Every guy near her is still looking. Still hoping.

And I stay seated.

Hands flat on the table.

Fighting the war in my head between what I want—and what I’ll destroy if I ever touch it again.

CHAPTER 18

OLIVIA

Ishouldn’t have had that last shot.

Or maybe the one before it.

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