Page 81 of Cold Hard Truth

“Mm-hmm.”

She wets her lips and stares up at me. The lights of the club throb around her. “Is that what you do now to charm the ladies?”

Lyla presses closer until we’re nearly chest to chest. And her fingers reach out, grazing the back of my hand. It’s subtle, sparking fireworks on my skin.

“What am I doing?”

She blinks up at me, shifting closer. “You’re being distracting. Making it hard to see anyone else in the room.”

“Is there someone else you’d rather be seeing?” I hate that a tinge of jealousy courses through the question.

She shakes her head once. “No.”

“Good.”

If I was smart, I’d pull back. Or I would have taken Brandi up on her offer at the clubhouse. If I cared about my life, I’d walk away, but Lyla makes me lose all good sense.

“So you don’t hate me anymore?” she asks, drawing her drink up between us to take a sip.

“I never hated you. I was just… I don’t know.”

“Hurt?”

I’m a punk for nodding, but I can’t lie to her.

“Sorry I left without an explanation. I just had to.” Her voice drops to almost a whisper.

Or maybe the music in the club is louder.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.” I shake my head. “I get it now.”

We’re moving closer. It might be on purpose, or the center of gravity might have centered between us. But I can feel her with each exhale. The heat of her under my palm when I toy that line of almost holding her hand.

She makes me feel like a kid who has no idea what they’re doing when that’s not the case anymore.

“You haven’t even looked at them.” Lyla glances around me, at where the girls are sitting at the table near ours. “Want me to get a few more numbers for you?”

“I don’t want their numbers.”

“Why not?” She skates her fingers up the back of my hand.

She knows why not, but she wants me to say it anyway.

“You know why not.”

My heart is racing at her touch. A boulder lodges in my throat as she skims her fingers to my side and brushes up and down.

“Everyone says you’re a fuckboy now.”

“Remind me to thank them for that.” My teeth clench.

It’s not that I’m ashamed. I didn’t give a shit about anything after Lyla left, and I used everything I could to numb that feeling, especially women. But I don’t like Lyla forcing me to face it.

“I’m not upset about it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I figured.” Because she understands me like no one else in my life has.

Her attention drops to her drink, and she lowers her hand. “You’re different now.”

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