I stumble backward, the whole room waiting on my reaction. He gives me an infinitesimal shake of his head.Don’t run from me.
He clears the space between us in a second, a hand running through his hair as he takes in the green gown that clings to my upper body like a second skin. He looks like he’s forgotten whatever it was he was here for. “Fuck, Ophelia. I had a whole speech planned.”
I open my mouth to argue, but the weight of hundreds of eyes stops the words from coming out. Colette is stood beside Belladonna on the edge of the crowd, not a lick of surprise in their expressions.
Traitors.
Go.The word is sitting on the top of my tongue, heavy and uncomfortable.
The song changes to something softer, slower. Even the staff that hurry around with trays of drinks seem to have frozen, suspended in time until Colette drags Vincenzo onto the dance floor. “I’m sure Alex and Ophelia would love to have a dance?” she says, loud enough for half the student body to hear.
I catch her gaze.I’ll murder you in your sleep, my glare says.
Not if you’re busy banging Alex, hers says back.
Alex’s hands settle on my waist, wide and scorching through the thin material of my dress. Panic flares up in my chest, frantic flames that lick the wall around my heart. “I don’t dance.”
I try to step back, but he has me ensnared in his grip, bright green eyes glittering with something that’s so comfortingly familiar that a shard of pain slices through my chest. “Alex.”
His fingers flex and unflex around my waist, as if testing that I’m real. The weight of so many eyes has my shoulders drooping, fighting that lifelong urge to fold in on myself and disappear. “Ophelia.”
“You agreed to leave.”
A small smile lifts his lips. “I was young and foolish back then.”
“Two days ago?” I breathe out, in disbelief.
He pulls me to his chest as more drunken couples surround us. His voice is a deep rumble beside my ear. “Yeah. Old news. Forget that ever happened.”
I fight to stay focused, fight to keep my brain still and steady when it feels like the rest of my body is being dragged into his orbit.He doesn’t look good. His hand sliding down my back doesn’t set my blood on fire.“It wasn’t foolish, Alex. It was the only sensible thing we’ve done in the last two months.”
He lifts my hand in his, twirling me once. When he drags me back to him, my back is pressed to his front, his arms snaking overthe soft flesh of my stomach. His lips press just beneath my ear, his next exhale bordering a moan. My knees feel like they can’t be bothered to hold me up anymore. “It was foolish,” he rasps, “because I’d have to be unthinkably stupid to give up on a chance with you.”
My lashes drift shut as I revel for a split second in the feel of his warm, hard body around mine. His scent soothes my senses, the rapid thrum of his heart against my back in perfect time with my own. “And do you think you have a chance?” I ask, letting my hands slide behind me, clumsily finding their way beneath his jacket. “This isn’t Monopoly.”
His laugh is a husky, treacherous thing. The music seems to slow, suspended in treacle like the rest of the world around us. The hall is full of laughter and conversation, but I can hear our breath louder than anything else. “If it was, you’d be Mayfair.”
My head is swimming, a heady combination of alcohol and Alex Corbeau-Green’s hands that run up and down my body like he can’t get enough. “And you’d be in jail.”
“But I get three tries to get out, right?”
Fuck.“Not in this game.”
“I’ve used one,” he breathes, lips tracing the shell of my ear. Desire is a punishing drumbeat somewhere low in my belly. “And I won’t need a third.”
“You used your first when you almost hit me with your car.”
He spins me back to face him so fast that I’m pressed flush against him before I can blink. “That’s not fair. You were standing in the middle of the road.”
“When you ate the last Jelly Baby our first night together, then.”
The blush that accompanies his small, hopeful smile chips away at me. “One last chance to get out of jail, Twist.Please.”
I press my cheek to his chest, let out a ragged, tortured sigh.
Even with my eyes closed, I see it. The flash of a camera, jarring me out of whatever trance I was in. Another comes, and it’s too bright, too harsh, like that blinding light that hovers too close to your face at the dentist.
And here it is. Another reminder of why he and I are oil and water. Our worlds don’t mix. I pull my hands off the hard, warm muscles of his back like he’s on fire.
