Chapter 39
REGGIE
Song- Sleeptalk, Dayseeker
I shouldn’t have come.
Conan’s leaning against the bar beside me, whiskey in hand, smirking like he’s watching a slow-motion car crash.
And maybe he is.
The club lights flash, slicing through the crowd. I can’t look anywhere without seeing her.
Bella King.
My fiancée.
My damnation.
She’s laughing, hair clinging to her throat, her body moving like she was made for rhythm.
Every man in this room wants her.
And I can’t fucking blame them.
Conan nudges me. “You look tense, Reg.”
“I’m fine.”
He grins into his drink. “Fine looks a hell of a lot like you’re about to murder someone for breathing near her.”
He’s not wrong.
I tip my glass back. “You’d do the same if Hallie walked in dressed like that.”
He raises a brow. “Touché. So…” He eyes me. “You two—?”
I shake my head. “No.”
Conan whistles. “That’s a surprise. You’ve got that look, though.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’ve already fucked her in your head about twenty times tonight.”
I shoot him a warning glare. “Drop it.”
He doesn’t. He never does. “Heard Rowan got close.”
My jaw ticks. “He did.”
“You and Rowan… sharing’s not exactly new.”
“Not this time.” My voice is gravel.
Conan tilts his head, watching me like he’s testing how far he can push before I bite. “So, Bella’s not on the rotation then?”
I face him fully. “She’s not to be shared.”
His grin fades. “Got it.”
Then the crowd shifts, and I see her again.
Except this time, she’s not with Lily.
She’s laughing. Pulling some stranger closer by his tie.
Looking right at me when she does it.
Conan follows my gaze. “Ah. There it is.”
“She’s doing it on purpose,” I mutter.
“Course she is,” he says. “Question is—what are you gonna do about it?”
I set my glass down hard enough to rattle the bar. “Ask her for a dance.”
The crowd parts as I move through.
She spots me immediately, like she’s been waiting for me to come claim her.
“May I?” I ask, voice low, calm, dangerous.
Her lips part. “I didn’t put you down as a dancer.”
“Guess I found a reason to learn.”
I take her hand before she can argue. Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers.
When I pull her in, she gasps, and her chest presses against mine.
My hand slides to the small of her back, just below the hem of that little black dress.
She’s warm.
Soft.
Bare.
“You’re angry,” she whispers.
“No.” My thumb draws lazy circles against her spine. “Just thinking about how reckless you are.”
Her smile tilts. “You mean fun.”
“Dangerous,” I correct.
“Maybe I like danger.”
The way she says it, it’s a fucking weapon.
She rolls her hips against mine. Every breath she takes brushes my neck. The music thrums through us, heartbeat to heartbeat.
“Careful, Princess,” I murmur, my mouth brushing her ear. “Keep testing me, and you’ll find out exactly how dangerous I can be.”
She looks up at me through her lashes. “Maybe that’s what I want.”
The crowd disappears.
The lights blur.
It’s just her and me, bodies moving in sync like we’ve been choreographed by something crueler than fate.
I spin her once, dragging her back flush against me.
Her breath catches and she shivers.
And I feel everything.
No panties.
My jaw locks, and I dip my head until my lips brush her temple. “You’re playing a vicious game.”
Her voice is barely a whisper. “And you’re finally playing with me.”
That does it.
The restraint snaps.
I turn her to face me, hand sliding up her throat, not tight, just enough to make her eyes darken, enough to let her feel what she does to me.
She grins up at me, lips trembling. “You’re smiling, Irish.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
But I am. For the first time in forever, I’m not thinking about control or alliances or what I’m supposed to be. I’m just dancing with her. My little storm in heels, who looks at me like she might actually see what’s underneath the armor.