CASS

The moment Kara slid out of the booth, I saw it.

That smug, self-satisfied curve in Eli’s mouth.

He was proud of himself. Like he’d just played matchmaker of the year. Like he hadn’t just dangled temptation in front of me, then walked off with a clean conscience.

I leaned back, arms crossed. “You planned this.”

Eli just sipped his drink like it was wine and not treachery. “Planned what?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”

“She’s cool, isn’t she?”

“She’s something,” I muttered, scanning the crowd in the direction Kara had gone.

Even with the blonde wig, I recognized her. Those eyes. That pull.

The girl from the bar.

The one I’d clocked four nights ago but forced myself to ignore because something about her said: Don’t start what you can’t finish.

Now here she was, in a wig, on a date with my best friend, and wearing my favorite band’s t-shirt like a challenge.

I should’ve let it go. Eli was my brother, and I didn’t steal from family—especially not women. But then I caught his damn smirk again, like he knew exactly what he’d done.

He brought her here for me.

He just didn’t think I’d bite.

I stood up, ignoring Eli’s raised brow.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said.

“I’m sure you are,” he said, not even pretending to believe me.

The hallway was dim, quiet. I reached the door Kara had disappeared through and paused. This was dumb. Reckless. A bad idea with flashing neon signs.

Then I opened the door.

She was at the mirror, touching up her lipstick—until she caught my reflection behind her.

Her eyes met mine in the glass, and for a beat, the whole room held its breath.

Heat. Pull. Gravity.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t gasp or pretend to be surprised. Instead, she slowly dragged her fingers along the slit in her dress, trailing up her thigh.

My breath caught.

I moved to stand beside her, close enough to feel her exhale. My hand found the curve of her hip, then the slit. My fingers slipped lower, tracing the path hers had made. Her skin was soft. Warm. Dangerous.

She didn’t stop me.

I leaned in, breathing her in. She smelled like trouble—like something I couldn’t walk away from even if I tried.

I tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and murmured, “Not while you’re here with him.”

She turned, tugging me closer. And then—God help me—she kissed me.

No hesitation. No slow burn.

Just flame.

Her hands were in my hair. Mine around her waist. It didn’t feel like a first kiss. It felt like we’d been doing this forever and were just now remembering how.

I let it happen. Let her take what she wanted.

But then I broke it—just barely—enough to whisper in her ear, “I know who you are.”

Her breath hitched.

I reached up and gently touched the nape of her neck, fingering the seam of the lace-front wig. Her panic flashed for a second, and she stepped back, brushing me off, guarded again.

I grinned.

Game on.

I turned and left, no words, no apology. Just satisfaction humming in my chest as I walked back to the table.

Eli was still nursing his drink, pretending not to notice.

When Kara returned a few minutes later, she barely looked at me.

I didn’t need her to.

I’d already won the first move. And now?