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delicate divot there, where her skin was tissue thin. “Seeing you riding Paul… ‘Affected’ is hardly the word.”
    “You could have said something. Done something. Kissed me.”
    “I did, remember?” He touched two fingers to the exact spot where he had kissed her, right on her forehead. “Just like I always do when saying good night.”
    “You could have stayed,” she said, the words nearly a whisper.
    “And wank in the corner while you played with your new toy? No, thank you.”
    “I would’ve liked to watch you.”
    Dima dipped his chin and inhaled. Emotion and control and need churned until he couldn’t think straight. She was twisting him into knots. “I can smell him on you,” he finally said.
    The sugared scent of luxurious bath products, that was Lizzie. She could spend longer in the shower than any person he’d ever known. Tonight, cloaked in the smells of a nightclub and sex, an element of spice clung to her sleek skin.
    He bowed over her, keeping one hand at her waist. She couldn’t go anywhere. If she tried, he might turn into some feral version of himself, all teeth and growls and furious possessiveness. Holy mother, his world was narrowing to nothing but her. He flattened his other hand on the arm of the couch. The deep breath he dragged into his lungs was scented with both Lizzie and Paul—so heady and strong that he groaned.
    “You don’t seem to mind,” she said.
    “I find I don’t.”
    She arched her spine, pushing her breasts higher. He trailed his index finger along her collarbone, down to the thin material between her tits. The satin of the dress was nothing compared to her skin.
    “I’m not surprised his scent’s on me.” Her eyes drifted to dark slits and she smiled, sweet and sly. “He was all over me. In me.”
    Dima’s breath quickened. He’d be furious if she tried to leave, but hearing her describe her encounter with the tall, rough bartender was unbelievable foreplay. He couldn’t have explained it had he possessed his entire mind. Which he didn’t.
    He stroked down her waist, over her hip. He’d gripped her hips thousands of times. Never like this. Never had his heart hopped up to dance in his throat. So many things he’d like to do with her. To her.
    Such a huge leap.
    If things went bad…
    Losing his best friend would shake his life to its foundation, but he might be on the cusp of losing her anyway. He wanted Devant and the freedom of new challenges. She wanted back on the same tired circuit, as if nothing had changed. Should he lose his Lizzie, he’d rather it be because they went out as champions—both on and off stage. If he was going to hell, he might as well get there running.
    Moss-green eyes drifted shut as her body relaxed over his lap. The slope of her shoulders slumped deeper into the cushions as her knees loosened, as if she’d let him do absolutely anything. “Would you rather I don’t talk about him?”
    “No,” he ground out. “Because it doesn’t matter. He’s not here.”
    He cupped her hot pussy with his entire hand. His palm centered over the damp scratch of her lace panties.
    Her quiet “Oh” went straight to his cock.
    “How well did he fill you, little one?”
    She gave a contented hum. “So well, Dima. He was big. Very.”
    His chest clenched. Envy and excitement. Barely controlled. Rather than needing to squash a bubble of jealousy, his arousal jumped. His mind was a mess of confusion, but his body craved more of that gorgeous depravity.
    With one flick of his wrist, he tossed her skirt up to pool over her stomach. The black of her panties was an enticing contrast to her strong, pale thighs. He traced a feather-light touch from her navel to the crease between her damp lips. Wetness. Heat. Exactly what he desired.
    “Your scream…” He repeated the deliberate touch, pushing a little deeper this time. He was fairly sure her pussy was bare—one of the few tiny mysteries she’d kept lately. Be damned, he was so close