Page 24 of Ignite

I laugh, smacking the counter.

“No. I don’t think my neighbors would appreciate that. I’ll have a removal company get it tomorrow. You’re really down for anything, aren’t you?”

He grins, pouring himself another glass.

“Yes, darlin’. I’m the fun Quinn. I’ll get you into trouble and back out of it all in one night.”

I believe him. He’s lightning in a bottle, wild and untouchable, but if you cross him, it’s game over.

We settle into a quiet rhythm, the radio humming softly in the background.

“Don’t listen to what that asswipe said earlier. You aren’t boring. You’re quite the opposite, actually.” Conan’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and sincere.

“I don’t care if he thinks I am. And I guess… sometimes I am. But there’s a whole side of me he never met. I know I’m cool. Just for the right people.”

He raises his glass, and I clink mine against his.

“Cheers to that, trouble.”

We knock them back.

“And you’re a damn good kisser. You know, if Small Dick didn’t interrupt us, I was about to take you upstairs. I lost my brain there for a bit.”

My eyes widen. My skin burns.

I have no idea what this is, whatever’s building between us, but it makes me feel something I haven’t felt in years.

Sexy. Seen. Real.

Since my dad died, I haven’t done anything for myself. I’ve just existed. Drowning quietly in grief while pretending I’m fine.

But tonight? The voices in my head, the ones that whisper I’m too much or not enough, they’ve gone quiet.

Tonight, I’m just me. The girl who laughs too loud. Who chases adrenaline. The girl who serves revenge cold with a smile on her lips.

I watch Conan swirl the liquid in his glass. Does he regret telling me that?

I take a breath. Screw it.

Maybe I deserve someone who knows how to fuck. Someone who won’t make me feel like a placeholder.

And I’d bet every cent I have that this man does. Then I can go back to my toys.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you.” I say it steadily. Confidentially.

His head snaps up.

And I swear, my lungs stop working.

Feral. That’s the only word for the way he looks at me.

Whatever leash he had on himself? Gone.

He stands abruptly and rounds the counter. I stay still, look up at him through my lashes, heart pounding like war drums.

“What do you want from me, Hallie?” he asks, voice lowered to something dangerous and divine.

I squeeze my thighs together.

---