Page 81 of Game Misconduct

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I’ve watched her dance with my teammates and a couple of corporate donors too handsy for my liking.

Jace started it, leading her around the floor with a firm hand on her waist.

Finn twirled her and dipped her too low.

Beau kept his hand polite but lingered just long enough.

And Logan—fuck—Logan made her laugh.

That sound. Soft and full, like it was just for him.

It wasn’t.

It’s never just for them.

She’s mine.

Even if I never get to touch her.

Even if I know better.

My glass hits the table harder than I mean it to.

The sound turns a few heads, but I don’t care.

I push out of my chair and cross the ballroom without thinking—without giving myself time to talk myself out of it.

Every step feels like surrender.

Griffin says something to her, and she smiles politely—until she sees me.

Her smile falters. Her spine straightens.

I see the question in her eyes before I say a word.

I stop beside her, hand extended.

“Dance with me.”

Her lashes lower just enough to give her time. One beat. Two.

Then she slides her hand into mine.

It’s not hesitation.

It’s surrender.

Her touch is cool from the glass of champagne she hasn’t finished.

But her skin, her presence, is heat.

Undeniable. Unforgiving.

The crowd doesn’t exist.

Neither does the damn gala.

Just the weight of her hand in mine as I guide her toward the dance floor.

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