Chapter 21 #2
Then he stood, holding out his hand to me, his eyes glowing with that reckless kind of joy I’d only ever seen on the ice. “Dance?”
There wasn’t a single second of hesitation in me.
I slipped my hand into his, letting him pull me to my feet, and we melted into the crowd—bodies moving, lights swirling, music thumping through our bones. And as I let myself sway against him, laugh against his neck, and feel his hands anchor me in the blur—I realized I didn’t feel lost anymore.
Not with him.
Not tonight.
Nick guided me onto the dance floor, his hand warm and steady in mine, and the moment our bodies touched, I melted into him like I was made for this. The music pulsed around us—slow, deliberate, sensual. It wrapped around us like silk, folding us into a world where nothing else existed.
We moved in sync, our rhythm effortless, our bodies closer than the space between heartbeats. The lights blurred, the crowd became a smear of movement and noise—but none of it touched me. Not when Nick was here, his touch grounding me, his presence carving out space for us in the chaos.
His hand found my waist, fingers spreading just enough to make me shiver, to remind me exactly who I belonged to. His thumb stroked over the curve of my hip like a promise he had no intention of breaking.
Then a voice slurred behind me—too close, too drunk.
“Hey sweetheart, care to dance?”
I barely had time to react before Nick stepped forward, his arm coming up fast, elbow pressing into the guy’s collarbone like he’d done it a thousand times before.
No words. Just a look that could kill, and the drunk backed off immediately, muttering something under his breath as he disappeared into the crowd.
My heart was pounding, not with fear—but with something hotter, darker.
Nick leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear, his voice low and rough from restraint. “You okay?”
I tightened my fingers around his, anchoring myself in the heat rolling off him. “Yeah,” I whispered back.
Nick looked down at me with that wolfish smile—the one that said he already knew. His eyes were lit with something protective and possessive, something feral and raw. And it didn’t scare me.
It thrilled me.
We moved again; the music turning slow and thick, wrapping around our bodies like heat. Every brush of his chest against mine sparked little fires under my skin. Every pass of his palm down my back had me clinging tighter.
People stared. I saw it out of the corner of my eye—murmurs, sideways glances. Whispers wrapped in envy or confusion or maybe even judgment.
But I didn’t flinch.
Not tonight.
Not when Nick was looking at me like this, not when his hands were on me like I was the only thing that mattered. Not when he pulled me tighter and said against my temple, “Just ignore them. None of it matters.”
And for once?
He was right.
Because in this moment, in his arms, I didn’t care who was watching.
I was exactly where I wanted to be.
I let out a soft laugh, one that melted into the thrum of the music as I leaned into Nick, pressing closer until there was barely space between us.
A breath escaped me—half sigh, half surrender—as I gave in to the freedom he offered so effortlessly.
There was power in this. In being on display, in choosing to stay beside him despite the eyes, the noise, the whispers.
It was the first time I felt like I was choosing me.
But just as I was losing myself in him, a voice sliced through the moment, sharp and ugly like broken glass.
“You really think she’s worth it?”
The words came from somewhere nearby—another booth, a pack of men too loud and too drunk, their attention clearly unwanted. I didn’t have to turn to know they were watching us. Me.
Nick stilled.
His body, so warm and fluid just seconds ago, went rigid beneath my hands. I felt his jaw tighten, the shift in him immediate. His arm around my waist became protective, possessive—his entire posture changing like a storm building on the horizon.
“Just keep dancing,” he murmured, low and lethal, his eyes fixed on them with a kind of silent threat that sent a chill down my spine… but not from fear.
I looked up at him, part of me bracing for the explosion I could feel building in his chest. But when our eyes met, there was something else. Steel. Certainty. Control. And somehow, that grounded me.
So I nodded.
I didn’t say a word. I didn’t give them the reaction they wanted. I just let Nick guide me again, arms wrapped around him, swaying to the beat like none of it mattered.
Because it didn’t. Not here. Not now.
They could spit whatever they wanted—mock what they thought they knew about me, throw jabs about the girl I used to be. But I wasn’t her anymore. Not with Nick’s hand warm against the small of my back, not with his gaze locked on mine like I was the only person in the room.
He spun me gently, turning our bodies so I faced him fully, blocking out the rest of the club. And suddenly it was just us again—just this moment, just this beat, just this unshakable gravity tethering us together in the middle of the chaos.
For now, we were untouchable.