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But as soon as I turn the corner toward the ladies' room, the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight. A sharp inhale stutters through me, and I feel it settle deep.

He’s right behind me.

“Tell him to leave, Dinara.” His voice is rough, his arm curling around my front and pulling me into his chest.

His presence washes over me like a wave, disorienting and warm all at once. I should be angry at him, but the truth is, there’s nothing more comforting than the way he touches me.

“Why should I do that?” My fingers trail up his forearm as I let myself feel him again. Feel his heat, his presence.

“Because if you don’t, I won’t be able to control what I do to him.”

A sardonic laugh escapes my lips. “I thought I told you at the club, you can’t tell me what to do. Did you forget?”

A growl vibrates against my neck as his lips hover right up against my pulse. “Get rid of him, Dinara. I won’t ask again.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” I whisper, fighting the need to melt into his touch.

The way he feels against me…every part of me aches for more.

“We'll see about that.” His fingers trail up my thigh, teasing me in places where I ache for him.

“I’m glad you got my gift.” His words are a low rumble across my skin, his lips ghosting over the sensitive spot behind my ear.

A shiver betrays me before I can stop it.

“Thanks for ignoring my text.” I exhale sharply, but it almost sounds like a moan.

“It’s better that way.” But he doesn’t even sound sure.

“Really?” I turn my head just enough to catch the flicker of something dark in his eyes. “Is this better too? You stalking me like some desperate little puppy?”

Cillian doesn’t answer. He just watches me, jaw clenched, pulling me in, pressing my back flush against his firm chest.

The heat of him, the hard lines of his muscles against mine… It’s maddening. It’s exactly what I don’t want to feel.

“Can’t seem to get over me, huh?” I taunt, my voice steady even when I don’t feel grounded or whole.

My hand slides behind me, fingers grazing down his stomach, lower…finding him hard and wanting. I squeeze him, reveling in the way he groans in response, his grip on me tightening.

“I wish it was that easy,” he growls, thick with frustration. “All I want is to get over you.”

The words cut deep. Deeper than I expect. I force myself to swallow down the sting, to keep my face cold, unaffected.

I tilt my head slightly, my lips almost brushing his jaw. “Then do it.”

He stills. I can feel the war inside him. The way his fingers twitch against my skin. The way his inhales turn ragged. For a moment, it feels like we’re teetering on the edge of something dangerous. Something inevitable.

But I can’t let this happen.

“Leave me alone, Cillian.” I flip around to face him all the way. “Whatever this is, I’m done with it.”

When I try to walk away, he catches my wrist, curling an arm around my back.

His lips draw nearer, breaths hot against my lips, and for one traitorous second, every part of me wants to melt into him.

I wish forgetting you was easy too.

When he wrenches away, I grind my jaw, and he groans.