Undercover Desires

Burning Under the Surface

Krystal

The second we stepped into the club, I knew I was in trouble.

Not because of the crowd, not because of the neon lights that flickered against the walls, casting a glow over everyone, and definitely not because of the music pounding through my chest. No. My problem was Ryland Johansson and the way he looked like sin wrapped in black f*****g fabric.

I hated him. I really did.

I hated the way he smirked at me like he knew exactly what was running through my mind. I hated how every step he took closer made my breath catch just a little. And I hated, hated, how that damn shirt clung to his arms, stretching against his biceps like it was ready to f*****g rip. Christ. I wanted to sink my teeth into them just to see if they were as solid as they looked.

Fuck. No. No, we were not doing this.

I shook my head hard and pushed forward, forcing my attention on Travis, who had already moved toward his friends. He gestured me over, his voice barely carrying over the music. “Krys, this is Marcus and Morris.”

Marcus gave me a small, polite nod, offering his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

I shook it, appreciating the brief contact before Morris swooped in. The man grinned like he’d known me for years, pulling me into a hug before I could protest. “Damn, Travis, you didn’t tell me your friend was gorgeous.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes but letting him have his fun. He was harmless, and I could tell he didn’t mean anything by it. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

I smirked, about to shoot back another response when I felt it.

Heat.

A burning, seething heat boring into me from a few feet away.

I didn’t have to look to know who it was.

Ryland was watching. Closely. And I wasn’t an i***t—I knew exactly what was pissing him off. Every time Morris rested his hand on my shoulder, or let it drop to the small of my back, I could feel Ryland shift. He wasn’t saying anything, but that jaw was tight, and his fingers were twitching at his sides like he was fighting something.

For some f*****g reason, I didn’t like it.

I didn’t like seeing him angry. Not like that. And worse? I didn’t like how much I liked the attention.

Morris leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You alright? You keep going quiet.”

“Yeah.” I shook myself out of it, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

I snorted, but before I could say anything else, a shadow loomed over us. I didn’t even have to turn to know who it was.

“Do you mind?” Ryland’s voice was all smooth irritation, directed right at Morris.

Morris grinned, completely unbothered. “Not at all.” He draped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close like we were the best of friends. “Why? You jealous?”

Ryland’s eyes flashed. “Not in the f*****g mood, man.”

Morris just laughed. “Chill out, Johansson. I’m just having fun.”

Ryland exhaled sharply, shaking his head before turning to me. “You good?”

I lifted a brow, ignoring the way my stomach twisted at the concern buried in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He glanced at Morris, who was still grinning like an i***t, then back at me. “Just making sure.”

And then, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire night brooding over my proximity to another man, he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed against my ear, and whispered, “You look f*****g good tonight, Firecracker.”

And then he was gone.

Motherfucker.