Page 86 of The Defender

“I see.” Vincent smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you mind if I cut in?” He slipped in between us before we could respond. He’d turned his back on Noah, effectively shutting the other man out.

Noah’s frown cleared, replaced with a small smirk. “Sure.” An uncharacteristic hint of laughter ran beneath his voice. “It was nice dancing with you, Brooklyn.”

“You too.” I waited until he was out of earshot before I glared up at Vincent. “Do you know how hard it was to convince him to dance? He promised me one song, and you interrupted it.”

I ignored the butterflies zooming through my stomach. I was happy to see him, but that didn’t mean I liked being robbed of my victory.

“How did you convince him to dance anyway?” Vincent ignored my last statement. His hands bracketed my hips, guiding me through the beats with effortless ease despite the stiffness in his voice. “I’ve known him for years, and I’ve never seen him on a dance floor.”

“The same way I do everything else. With charm and persistence.”

“He looked charmed, alright. His hands were all over you.”

“I lost my balance. He was helping me.”

“Is that what they call it these days?”

I stopped moving to stare at him. Vincent stared back, his eyes burning with barely concealed irritation.

“Are you…jealous?” The prospect sent a breathless thrill down my spine. It shouldn’t, but our relationship was built of shouldn’ts.

“Please.” He scoffed, his cheekbones tinged with red. “Why would I be jealous of Noah?”

“You tell me.” I couldn’t stop a smile from blossoming.

The red darkened against his skin. He didn’t respond right away, but the answer was in his heartbeat, quick and heavy against mine. Somehow, we’d ended up pressed together, our bodies moving in sync. I didn’t have to think about it the way I had with Noah. Our rhythms just matched. Perfectly.

“And if I did?” Vincent’s voice was low in my ear. “If I told you how fucking jealous I was when I saw you with Wilson, what would you do?”

My smile evaporated. His palm seared through my dress, and it was my turn to blush. The heat crawled over my chest, up my neck, and across my face, muddying my thoughts.

What would I do? Question of the year.

Say something. Anything.A dozen responses teetered on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t focus on one long enough to get it out.

“Kidding. Don’t think too much about it.” Vincent stepped back. A chill replaced the warmth of his touch. “Actually, I’m starving. There’s a great pizza place next door. Want to come with me?”

I blinked, so thrown by the abrupt shift in tone and mood that my brain scrambled to catch up. “What?”

“Pizza. You in?”

“If we leave, we won’t be able to get back in.” That was the first reply I could come up with.

What was happening? How did we go from jealousy and what I could’veswornwas sexual tension to talking about freaking pizza?

Vincent cocked an eyebrow at my concern.

Right. He was Vincent DuBois. Of course he could get back in.

I looked around. The rest of our group was still MIA. Even Noah was gone. And to be honest, even if they were here, I’d choose pizza with Vincent over dancing in the club.

“Sure.” I smiled past my confusion. “Let’s go.”

Eating pizza this late at night wasn’t the healthiest choice, but what the hell. I was off the clock, and we were on break. If there was ever a time to indulge, it was now.

Vincent and I grabbed our coats from the coat check and made our way to the exit. The pizza place was literally right next door to the club. It was packed with drunk tourists, but we were able to place our orders without Vincent causing a ruckus. I assumed everyone was too inebriated to recognize him.

Since there weren’t any empty tables, we took our pizzas to-go. We wandered down the street, trying to eat our slices before it got cold.