Page 36 of The Players We Hate
She pointed toward Wren as though she unveiled a goddamn masterpiece.
“And then she asked what would get your attention. And I mean… c’mon. Nailed it, right?”
I couldn’t answer.
My throat went dry, my jaw tight. My body couldn’t keep up—want and anger crashing all at once. I didn’t know if I wanted to drag Wren into me and kiss her, or cover her up and tell every guy here to back off.
Alisa wiggled her brows. “So… do you like it?”
Like it? That wasn’t the word.
I was wrecked.
Wren’s gaze flicked to Alisa, then back to me. Uncertainty crossed her face—quick, almost hidden—but there.
And I hated it. I hated that I made her question it.
She looked like a goddamn dream. One that was about to ruin my entire night because there was no way I’d stop picturing her like this.
Alisa nudged me again. “Dude. Say something before she thinks you’re about to faint.”
I blinked, hard. Finally, I dragged my eyes off Wren’s thighs, her lips, that corset that had me unhinged in ways I didn’t even know were possible.
One word. It was all I could manage.
“Damn.”
Alisa lit up. “Knew it.”
But Wren, she didn’t grin or gloat. She tilted her head the tiniest bit, lips twitching like she wanted to smile but wasn’t sure she should. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her cloak, and I saw the nerves there. The vulnerability.
She’d worn it forme. She was here, after everything, after all the shit left unsaid. Something in her still pulled her my way.
And just like that, I wasn’t standing by the fire anymore.
I leaned toward her without thinking, the pull too damn strong. I’d spent all week pretending I could stay away.
She was Red in a den full of wolves. And I wasn’t chasing—I was waiting to be caught.
She stood her ground, every step a dare. My instincts bristled, not just at her but at the way eyes followed when she passed. Some of the guys looked too long, and what stung was that she didn’t seem to notice.
Or maybe she did. Maybe she wanted to.
Either way, my jaw clenched until my teeth ached.
“Come with me,” I muttered, not waiting for her answer as I closed the last bit of space between us. My fingers brushed her wrist, enough to make it clear this wasn’t a suggestion.
Wren blinked. “Where?”
I didn’t answer. Just caught her wrist and pulled us toward the shadows at the edge of the clearing, past the tunnel where the firelight barely reached. I heard her boots crunching on the gravel behind me and felt the charge between us climbing with every step.
When I stopped, I turned slowly, letting her walk straight into me.
The fire lit her from behind, turning her into a silhouette. Her cape skimmed her thighs, the wind tugging at the hood, trying to pull it back and show what I already knew was there.
“You trying to get me arrested tonight?” I asked, my voice low and rough.
She blinked up at me, wide-eyed. “What?”
