CHAPTER SIX
1147 Words
(Ava’s POV)
The music was pounding, bodies pressed together all around them, heat rising like waves from the dance floor. Ava should have pushed him away. Should’ve told him to back off, that she wasn’t some toy for him to play with under flashing neon lights.
But then Ethan’s hand slid just a little lower on her waist, anchoring her in the chaos, and her body betrayed her.
She didn’t pull away.
She let herself move with him.
The bass rattled her chest, and his grip steadied her like he’d been built for this moment for her. His body was close, too close, his breath warm against the shell of her ear as he leaned in.
“You’re full of surprises, princess,” he murmured, his voice smooth and edged with something darker. “Didn’t think you’d let me this close.”
She swallowed, her throat tight. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just… blending in.”
“Blending in?” His laugh was low, sinful. “You stand out more than anyone here.”
Her cheeks burned. God, why did he have to say things like that? Why did he have to look at her like she was the only thing worth noticing in this overcrowded, sweaty room?
“I don’t,” she muttered, turning her head slightly, her hair brushing his cheek.
But Ethan’s eyes stayed locked on hers, his smirk softening into something almost sincere. “Yeah, you do. And you have no idea how much it’s killing me.”
Her chest tightened, breath stuttering. She told herself it was the music, the alcohol, the dizzy lights that’s why she let herself linger, why she didn’t shove him away when his hand slid up her arm, fingertips tracing her bare skin like fire.
Instead, she surprised herself. She leaned in just a fraction, close enough to whisper back, “Maybe you deserve to suffer.”
His grin spread, sharp but playful. “Finally. A little honesty.”
Ava rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her with the faintest hint of a smile.
Ethan noticed immediately. His gaze flicked down to her mouth, then back to her eyes, a dangerous glimmer sparking in the dim light. “Careful, Ava. You keep smiling at me like that and I might start believing you don’t hate me as much as you say.”
She exhaled a laugh small, nervous, but real. “You’d like that too much.”
“Damn right, I would.”
He spun her then, smoothly, effortlessly, pulling her flush against his chest when she turned back. Her heart thudded at the contact, her palms pressing lightly against him to steady herself. And for the first time that night, she didn’t think about pushing him away. She just let herself breathe him in, let herself feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands.
“You know,” he said lowly, his lips grazing her hair, “you can keep pretending this is just a game to you. But the second you stop lying to yourself…”
“What?” she whispered, caught in the storm of his voice.
He leaned in closer, until his mouth was just at her ear. “It’ll wreck you. And I’ll be right there, wrecked with you.”
Her pulse skittered, dizzy and electric. She hated him for the way her body responded, for the way her knees felt weak and her lungs forgot how to work.
But God help her she didn’t move.
Instead, her fingers curled lightly against his shirt, clutching the fabric as though it grounded her. Her laugh came shaky, betraying the war inside her. “You sound way too confident for someone who got rejected over text less than twenty-four hours ago.”
Ethan’s grin returned, smug and wicked. “And yet, here you are. Dancing with me. Letting me touch you. Warming up to me.”
Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Because he was right.
Somewhere between the music and the jealousy and his insufferable persistence, she’d given him an inch. And Ethan Cole wasn’t the type to waste inches.
“You’re exhausting,” she muttered instead, but the words lacked venom.
“And you’re addictive,” he countered smoothly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles now, subtle but intentional. “So I guess we’re even.”
Ava’s chest felt too tight, her mind screaming at her to cut it off, to retreat before it was too late. But then the song shifted, the tempo slowing, the crowd swaying instead of thrashing. Ethan didn’t let go.
And for the first time that night, Ava didn’t want him to.
They moved together, not perfectly, but naturally. His hand rested firmly at the small of her back, hers stayed lightly on his chest, the air between them thick with unspoken things.
She tilted her head just enough to glance up at him, and what she saw nearly undid her completely.
Ethan wasn’t smirking. Not grinning. Not playing the arrogant, cocky role he wore like armor. He was just looking at her. Really looking.
And damn it, she saw something raw there something he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried.
The realization scared her. But it also made her heart ache in a way she didn’t expect.
She broke the silence first, her voice softer than she intended. “Why me?”
Ethan blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. “What?”
She looked away, her throat dry. “You could have anyone. Literally anyone here. So why are you wasting all this… effort on me?”
For a moment, he said nothing. The music swelled, people laughed and shouted around them, but it all faded into a distant hum as she waited.
Finally, Ethan’s jaw tightened, his grip on her waist steady. “Because they’re not you.”
The words hit her harder than she wanted them to. She felt her chest cave in a little, a breath she didn’t know she was holding escaping in a shaky exhale.
She should’ve walked away then. Should’ve put the wall back up, laughed it off, told him he was ridiculous.
But instead, she looked back up at him, meeting his eyes, her own defenses crumbling just enough to let the truth slip out.
“You make me crazy,” she admitted quietly.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across his lips. “Good. Because you’ve been driving me insane since the day we met.”
For a moment just a moment everything else disappeared. It was just her, him, the heat of his hand against her back, the echo of his words pounding harder than the bass.
And when he leaned in, their lips hovering dangerously close, Ava didn’t move away. She didn’t kiss him either, not yet. But she didn’t stop him.
And that, she realized, was enough of a confession.
- Writer
