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I blink, vision clearing, and there they are. Levi’s jaw clenches, his eyes dark storms of fury. Conrad looms beside him, silent but radiating a menace that makes the drunkard wilt.
“Fuck,” I breathe, not sure if it’s from relief or the sudden, dangerous thrill that comes from being the focal point of their intense protectiveness.
“You touch her again, and I’ll rip your hands off. Do I make myself clear?”
The man swallows before stumbling away, not even throwing another look at me.
19
CONRAD
“Handle Brielle,” Levi grunts, a command as much as it is a plea. There’s a hard edge to his voice, one that brooks no argument. He spins on his heel and stalks off toward the chaos of the party, leaving us alone.
I turn, my gaze locking onto Brielle Rose. She’s a vision of temptation—her hair a tousled halo around her face, eyes glinting with the kind of wild mischief that comes from one too many shots. But it’s her state of undress that snatches my breath away, sends my pulse thrumming against my skin like a drumbeat.
Just a bra and underwear. Lace, barely there, a whisper of fabric that does nothing to hide the curves I’ve committed to memory despite every attempt not to. My mouth goes dry, heart hammering against my ribs. It’s an effort to keep my hands at my sides, to not reach out and trace the lines of her that beckon me.
Heat sears through my veins, desire coiling tight in my gut. Every inch of her skin calls to me, and I’m acutely aware of the space between us—charged, electric. I want her, have wanted her, for longer than I care to admit, and seeing her this exposed, this vulnerable…it’s a test of self-control.
My arms are around her before I even register the motion, pulling Brielle’s quivering form against mine. Protection. Possession. They meld into one primal impulse that has my blood boiling with a rage that feels both alien and intimately familiar. Another man’s hands have been on her—it’s a thought that claws at me, sharp and unforgiving.
“Are you okay?” The words tumble out, rough-edged and laced with a concern that threatens to crack the veneer of calm I’m desperately clinging to. Her vulnerability in this moment eclipses the fury simmering beneath my skin.
Her eyes, wide and shimmering, meet mine, and there’s a tremble in her gaze that pulls at something deep within my chest. This is Brielle—fierce, untamed, yet here she stands, looking as though she may shatter at the slightest touch. My fingers tighten around her just a bit more, a silent vow that I won’t let that happen. Not now, not ever.
“I’m okay. I’m happy you came when you did.”
I steady Brielle, her body a soft weight against mine. “You’re drunk,” I murmur, not as an accusation, but as a fact that’s becoming painfully clear with every slurred word that slips from her lips.
“Maybe just a little,” she confesses, the words tangling like bedsheets in her mouth. The scent of alcohol on her breath mingles with the sweet fragrance of her skin, disarming me. The party buzzes around us, a hive of heat and music, but it all fades into nothingness with Brielle in my arms.
“Didn’t expect to find you here, at a party like this.” My voice is a low hum, surprise lacing each word. This isn’t her scene, never has been. She’s more likely to curl up with a book than drown in bass and bodies.
She tries to laugh it off, but it’s a hollow sound. “Thought I’d try something different,” she says, her gaze unfocused yet seeking mine. “Try to be someone…not so me.”
I shake my head, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips despite the tightness in my chest. “Brielle, there’s nothing about you that you need to change. I like you just the way you are.” The confession is raw, stripped of pretense. It’s truth, laid bare between us, and I hope she can feel the weight of it, even through the haze clouding her senses.
Her eyes flicker with something like disbelief, searching my face for the lie. But she won’t find one. Not tonight. Not ever.
A scoff escapes her, a wobbly attempt to shrug off my words. “You don’t mean that,” she mumbles, her voice slurred with the weight of too many shots.
I catch her chin, gently but with intention, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Brielle.” Her name is a vow on my lips. “Every word. I meant it.”
She wavers, her breath fanning against my face, sweet and a little sour, all at once intoxicating. I’m in deep, drowning in the need to protect her, to be the one she leans on when the world spins out of control.
“Conrad…” She leans closer, her intentions clear as day, even through the drunken haze.
Instinct screams for me to close the gap, to claim the kiss she’s offering, but I stay my ground. Restraint wraps around me like chains. “Not like this,” I breathe out, the words almost getting lost in the space between us. “I won’t kiss you when you’re drunk, Brielle.”
Her eyes cloud with disappointment, a pout forming on those tempting lips. Lips I’ve imagined more times than I care to admit.
“Rain check?” she asks, hope lacing through the two syllables.
“Rain check.” The promise rolls off my tongue, heavy with unspoken longing.
The music cuts out mid-beat, the abrupt silence a slap to the party’s rhythm. I blink, confusion muddling my thoughts as hushed murmurs ripple through the crowd.
“Hey!” Levi’s voice slices the air. He stands by the speakers. With an effortless flick of his wrist, something small and hard crashes to the floor, the sound sharp and startling in the sudden quiet. Heads turn, eyes wide, fixed on him.
