Page 25 of The Heart Breaker

But I remember what she’s really like. How vicious she is. What’s even worse is that my body remembers every detail from the club—the way she shoved me onto the chair, only to grind down on me a second later. The way she put on a show for me, torturing me out of my damn mind, the way her breath caught when my hands were on her hips.

It pisses me off how much I remember of that night. How much I think of it. I’ve hooked up with lots of girls before, but do I remember every painstaking detail of those nights? Hell no. But for some reason, I can’t forget Aurora grinding on me.

It’s all still stuck in my head, and I hate it.

Even her perfume’s stuck in my head now. Dark and smoky, with something sweet underneath that sticks in the back of my throat and pisses me off every time I think about it.

I force myself to look away, focusing on the row of bottles behind the bar. Doesn’t do a damn thing to stop the buzz under my skin.

It doesn't matter what I do. I still feel her. Still know exactly where she is without looking. It’s like my body keeps tracking her even when I’m trying not to, like there’s a magnet in my chest, pulling me back to her again and again.

I mutter a curse under my breath and turn to see frat boy slide his hand onto her thigh.

She laughs and subtly moves it away. She’s not into him, that much is obvious, but she isn’t shutting him down either.

I roll my shoulders back. Not my business. She can handle herself. She always has. And I don’t give a shit who she talks to.

I grab my jacket off the back of the barstool, thinking I’ll cut out and have a desperately needed smoke, but as I turn, I catch sight of Aurora’s little date peeling away from her, heading for the bar and leaving her alone, twirling her straw in her drink, looking bored out of her mind.

And for some reason—some unbelievably stupid reason—my feet go in her direction instead of the damn door. Her eyes lift and she pauses, her lips still on the straw when she sees me, her shoulders stiffening.

Her eyes narrow on me. “Here to ruin my night, Reaper?”

I ignore the nickname, arching a brow. “Guess you didn’t waste much time finding a replacement for golden boy.”

Her jaw tightens. “Jealous?”

I drag my tongue over my teeth. “Of him?” My mouth twists. “Don’t insult me, Prescott.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She lifts her chin. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be over here with your nose in my business.”

My eyes drop before I can stop them, dragging over every inch I shouldn’t remember but still do—the way those thighs locked around my hips, the roll of her body against mine, the heat of her bare skin under my palm.

“You planning on giving him the same show you gave me?”

Her nostrils flare. She hates that I remember. Hates even more that I can dangle it over her head.

“Forget you ever saw me there,” she snaps. “Forget what happened.”

I step in and lean down until my mouth is right by her ear. “Already did.”

Her eyes flash the second I pull back, anger right there in the tight line of her mouth, even as she tries to cover it with that cocky little smirk.

“Yeah?” she says, tipping her head. “Then why’d you come over here?”

I hold her stare, my grip tightening around the neck of my bottle. “Why are you still standing here with me when your date’s waiting for you?”

Her eyes flick to the side where her date’s watching us with a pool cue in hand. She shoves at my chest—harder than necessary—then spins away and stalks back to him without another word.

I drain my drink, letting the burn in my chest remind me she’s a poisonous snake and I shouldn’t care that she's probably going home with that guy tonight. But I must be a masochistic motherfucker, because instead of leaving, I turn to watch as she picks up the cue.

She glances back at him and frat boy leans in behind her, his hands bracketing her hips, showing her how to line up. Her eyes snap to mine, watching my reaction, that evil smirk sliding into place.

She wants me to see this. She wants this to get under my skin.

The worst part is… it does. More than I want to admit.

She misses the shot completely, sending the ball skimming off the side, and a laugh escapes me before I can swallow it down.