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“That’d be a bad idea,” I mutter, my eyes never leaving her while she’s talking to Natalia and Alisa.

“Why? Afraid you’re gonna fuck her?”

“Probably.”

His laughter grows; he finds amusement in my misery.

It’s been months since I’ve been with her. And yeah, the sex was good. Really good. But that’s not the only thing I miss. I miss the way she looked at me with those soulful eyes. The way it felt to just be with her, holding her.

I rub my face, frustration building, and order another drink. The burn of alcohol does nothing to cool the fire inside me.

Turning back to watch her, I let my eyes roam that figure, barely covered in a white lace see-through dress that hits her knees. My instincts scream to wrap my jacket around her and hide that damn body so no one looks at it. I can make out her damn tits from here.

I need to take her home.

As I drag a step forward, our eyes meet and everything fades. The crowd, the music, the noise…it all vanishes. It’s just her. Always her.

This is damn overwhelming. Wanting her. Needing her. Knowing she’s the one.

But there’s no future for us.

My blood pounds in my ears as I move toward her, not even sure what I plan to do. Talk? Kiss her? Tell her I can’t stop thinking about her?

I have no idea. All I know is I can’t stay away.

When I approach, she grabs some guy’s arm and starts talking to him, her eyes growing as I start to get closer.

Does she think I’m just gonna wait here while she has her damn hands on someone else? Does my girl not know me by now?

My girl.

Fuck. I shouldn’t think of her like that. Shouldn’t even let myself feel it. But it’s there, clawing at me.

“Dinara.” Her name bursts from me like a dam breaking, the hunger too raw, too possessive.

Her eyes snap on me, darkened with something sharp and knowing. She sees the madness in me. I can't hide it. Not even if I tried.

The guy turns. His face is hidden behind a mask, same as mine.

“Hey,” she says, sounding too damn cheery, pissing me off even more.

Her fingers trace his arm, and it makes my skin burn.

I don’t think. I move, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from him like I have every right to. Her touch, her warmth, the feeling of her skin beneath mine…it’s everything I’ve missed.

She doesn’t fight me. Instead, her eyes widen—a flicker of recognition, how right her body feels next to mine.

My lips brush against her knuckles. I kiss them, softly, desperately, like I’ve been starved of this for too long. I close my eyes for a moment, holding on to this touch.

God, I’ve missed everything about you.

Her friends watch, silent and still, while I touch her like she still belongs to me.

“Should I go?” the guy mutters, stepping back.

“No—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“That’s a good idea.”