Undercover Desires

Tension in the Night

Ryland

I stepped out of my room, rolling my shoulders, my usual smirk tugging at my lips. I had barely made it five steps down the hall when I saw them.

Travis and Krys were already waiting, and—f**k.

Krys was a f*****g sight.

Her hair bounced with every small movement, her eyes gleamed under the dim hall light, and that dress—Christ. It fit her like it was made for her, hugging every goddamn curve, stopping mid-thigh, leaving just enough bare skin to drive a man insane. The deep green fabric clung to her body like a second skin, low-cut in the front, backless, and teasing just enough to make me want to grab her and—

“Damn, Firecracker.” I moved forward, smirking. “Didn’t know you could clean up this well.”

Krys scoffed, flipping me off without missing a beat. “Didn’t know you could be an even bigger dick.”

I grinned, f*****g loving the fire in her tone. “You wound me, truly.”

“Do you ever shut up?” she deadpanned, shifting her weight to one hip.

“Not when you look like that.” My eyes dragged over her again, slow and deliberate. “Would be a crime not to comment.”

Travis groaned, stepping between us. “For f**k’s sake, both of you. Can we get through one night without the weird f*****g foreplay?”

I barked out a laugh. Krys, on the other hand, glared bloody murder at him. “I will actually end you.”

Travis smirked and looped his arm around her shoulders, dragging her toward the door. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

She grumbled under her breath, but I caught the small tug at her lips. Damn, even pissed off, she was something. And that ass—f**k, it swayed even when she wasn’t trying. A goddamn menace.

***

The club was packed when we got there. Neon lights pulsed against the walls, bodies pressed together in a sea of movement, the bass thrumming through my chest. Marcus and Morris were already waiting outside, and the second Travis jumped out of the car, they pulled him into a rough hug.

Krys followed behind, heels in her hand, her bare feet moving across the pavement like she didn’t give a single f**k.

I strolled up beside her, watching the way her fingers curled tight around the straps of her heels, knuckles white like she was ready to swing them at me if I so much as breathed wrong. Amused, I tilted my head. “You good, Firecracker?”

She exhaled sharply, shooting me a glare. “I’d be f*****g fantastic if you ignored me for the rest of the night.”

I stepped closer, leaning just enough that I could see the way her throat bobbed, the way her breath hitched just the slightest bit. “We both know you’d f*****g hate that.”

A sharp breath left her lips, her fingers twitching around her heels like she wanted to hurl them at my head. And goddamn, that hesitation—that battle in her eyes where she wanted to throw something back at me but held back—was so f*****g cute I had to bite back a grin.

“Go f**k yourself, Johansson,” she muttered, stepping past me.

I chuckled, falling into stride beside her. “Keep talking like that and people are gonna think you like me.”

She shot me a glare so deadly it should’ve set me on fire. “I f*****g hate you.”

I grinned. “Sure you do.”