Chapter 4 #2
Not since my brother died three years ago in a gang hit that wasn’t meant for him. Wrong place. Wrong fuckin’ time. Just more blood on concrete, another name in the paper. Just gone.
That jacket is all I’ve got left of him.
And now it’s wrapped around her like it belongs there.
Fuck, what am I doing?
I should yank it back.
Should tell her she has no idea what she’s wearing. What she’s doing to me.
But instead, I just watch her. Burn the image into memory.
Because for the first time in three years, that jacket feels warm again, and I’m not ready to take it back.
“So, you and the DJ hate each other or something?” she asks, tone casual but I can feel the weight behind it.
I snort. “Noir’s the kind of asshole who acts like he’s above it all, like he’s got some tragic backstory that makes him better than the rest of us.
But he’s worse. Everything he does, it’s for himself.
Always a catch. Always some angle. Like the world’s just a stage for whatever twisted little performance he’s putting on.
Guy thinks the world owes him for his daddy issues or some shit. ”
She laughs, tipping her head back, the moonlight catching on the glitter dusted across her collarbone. “Damn. You’re both so dramatic. So do I like, get to vote on who wins, or…?”
“You already did.”
That catches her. Her brows lift, curious. “Did I?”
I tilt my head, eyes dragging down her mouth. “You kissed me.”
She snorts. “You kissed me first.”
“Didn’t hear you complaining.”
She bites her lip, and fuck if it doesn’t stir something dark and hungry in me. “Wasn’t really in a position to.”
My smirk deepens. I lean in closer, lowering my voice. “You mean because you were dripping and grinding on my thigh like you wanted me to fuck you right there in front of everyone?”
Her breath catches. Her laugh dies on her tongue. She looks away too fast, lips parting like she’s trying to swallow her reaction.
“God, you’re cocky,” she mutters, trying to hide behind sarcasm.
My lips brush the shell of her ear.
“No, baby. I’m just observant.”
She shivers. I feel it. Watch it ripple through her like I’ve just touched the wire again, and I know right then—I could fucking ruin her.
Fuck , she might even beg me to.
“Observant, huh? That why it took you an hour to notice I was gone?”
I huff a laugh, low and sharp. “It did not take me an hour. Though it did take me a bit to decide whether to let you keep wandering or drag your high ass back myself.”
She tilts her head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Okay, so I kissed you first…” Her voice goes syrup-slick and taunting. “What happens if I kiss Noir next? I mean, the night is still young.”
My jaw ticks.
She’s pressing buttons, and she knows it.
I lean in, my voice dropping to a growl. “You could try. But I promise you—he won’t kiss you like I do.”
She arches a brow, all smug and sparkly and full of hell. “Is that so?”
“Dead fucking serious,” I mutter, eyes locked on hers. “But if you want to see what happens when you start playing tug-of-war between me and him? Go ahead, little relapse. Flick the match.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “You calling me a fire hazard now?”
I smirk. “You’ve been one since the second I laid eyes on you.”
We both laugh, a beat of tension breaking, but just barely.
Because we both know exactly what this is.
A game. A war neither of us plans on losing.
She smirks, satisfied with the bite in her tone, but fuck, she doesn’t know she’s playing at.
I want to touch her again. Bad.
But instead, I look at her. Really look.
Moonlight kisses the edges of her face. She’s flushed, cheeks pink. Her pupils are still huge, but there’s awareness in them now. Something deeper than just the high. Something scarred.
Her gaze drifts out toward the water. “She used to love the beach,” she murmurs.
I don’t ask who. Don’t need to.
Her voice softens, just for a second—like whatever memory just crawled up her throat burned too much to keep. Then she shakes it off with a smirk. “Anyway. I still think your precious Cyanide’s pretty mediocre.”
I slide closer. My fingers lift—slow, deliberate—and I hook them under her chin, forcing her to look at me.
She doesn’t pull away.
“You always mouthy to your dealers?” I ask.
She smirks. “You always this handsy with your customers?”
“Never.”
We’re close now. Too close. That mouth, that look in her eyes—she’s a goddamn dare wrapped in skin.
Her lips part, and this time, she doesn’t pull away.
She leans in and kisses me like she wants a fight. Like she wants to taste what it’s like when I snap. I kiss her back, hard, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding up to her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek like I don’t know whether to hold her still or fuck her senseless.
She climbs into my lap without hesitation, grinding down like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and she does. That little roll of her hips, the press of her heat right against my cock—it’s not accidental. She’s playing with fire, like she knows I’m the one who’ll burn her.
My fingers dig into her hip as I keep her moving. Slow. Rough. Controlled. She moans into my mouth, soft and sharp, and fuck, the sound nearly undoes me. She tastes like smoke, sugar and something I’ll never fucking deserve, but will crave just the same.
My jacket’s still wrapped around her shoulders, hanging off like it belongs to her now. She looks good like that. Too good. Like trouble I’d ruin everything to touch again.
We bite at each other’s mouths, groaning, and grinding.
The pressure builds so fast it’s dizzying.
Her tongue flicks against mine, catching on the cold edge of my tongue ring, and she moans, deep and wrecked, like she likes it.
Every shift of her body over mine has my jaw clenched and my self-control on a razor’s fucking edge.
She tugs my bottom lip between her teeth, dragging it slow, and I almost lose it right there.
Then—just like that—she pulls back.
Smirking. Flushed. Breathless. And proud of herself.
She climbs off me slow, dragging her fingers down my chest like she wants me to remember exactly where she was. I do. I’ll never forget it.
She grabs her boots from the sand, slips them on one by one, like I’m not sitting here hard and fucked up over her. Like she’s in control now.
She stands. Shrugs off my jacket and tosses it to me.
“Alright, lover boy,” she says, stretching like a goddamn siren, every curve baited with heat. “I’ve got a dance floor to corrupt and glitter to sweat off.”
My jaw ticks. “Blair?—”
But she’s already walking, boots crunching sand, hips swaying like she’s punishing me for wanting more.
I let her go.
But fuck, that mouth. That laugh. That fucking look in her eyes when she grinded on my lap.
She thinks she’s in control, but she has no idea.
I stay rooted there, jacket in hand, heart fucking pounding, and that’s when I hear him.
Footsteps. Smooth and deliberate. So smug I can feel the smirk radiating off him before he even speaks.
“Sweet of you,” Noir drawls behind me, voice dipped in smoke and mockery. “Giving her your jacket. What’s next? Holding her hair while she pukes up the drugs you gave her?”
I don’t turn around.
He comes up beside me anyway. Lights a cigarette like it’s a performance. Always was good at those.
“Didn’t take you for the sentimental type,” he says, exhaling toward the waves. “Not after everything.”
Silence falls—thick and rotted.
Then he says it.
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
My jaw clenches.
“No,” I answer, voice low. “But she’s smart. She will figure it out. That’s the part we should both be worried about.”
He takes a long drag. “Maybe. Or maybe it won’t matter.”
“You actually fucking think she won’t care?”
“Shit, I think in some fucked up way, we’re hoping she won’t.”
My hands curl into fists. I don’t look at him. I can’t . Because I know he’s fucking right.
Before the heat between us can boil over, a scrawny junkie stumbles out from the gravel path, eyes wide and red-rimmed.
“Dagger—please, man. Just one hit. I’ll pay?—”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I snap, barely sparing him a glance.
The kid flinches, and stumbles backward into the dark.
Noir laughs. “Look at you. Dealer turned babysitter. I’ll leave you to clean up your mess.” He flicks ash into the sand and turns toward the path. “I’m gonna go find her.”
I step into his space, just enough to make my point. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
He tilts his head. “Or what? You gonna tell her the truth before or after you fuck it all up again?”
I don’t move. Don’t even fucking breathe.
He turns and walks away, smoke trailing behind him like a fucking signature as he heads back toward the warehouse.
Toward her.
I just stand there. Jacket clenched in one hand, blood pounding in my ears.
He was supposed to be the one who could save her.
But he didn’t. Couldn’t. No one could.
Now he’s circling Blair like she’s his redemption arc. His second chance. Like if he can keep her close, fuck her first, claim her before I do, it’ll even the score somehow. Like she’s the way he gets his payback.
But Blair isn’t a fucking do-over.
She’s the hit that ruins you.
And I’ll burn this whole place down before I let him breathe her in like she’s something he’s owed.