Except me.
And Mystic.
He sat there, fingers still tapping against the table, jaw tight.
I leaned back, watching him. “You got somethin’ to say?” he growled, feeling my eyes on him.
He didn’t look at me as I asked, “You gonna claim Drago’s woman?”
Mystic finally turned, his expression calm. Unreadable. “She ain’t Drago’s woman.”
I raised an eyebrow.
Mystic pushed up from his chair, muttering, “I got shit to do.”
I watched him go, his shoulders stiff.
Something told me Mystic had already made his choice—but was struggling internally with something.
And that was gonna get real fucking interesting.
THE BEDROOM DOORclicked shut behind him,muffling the clubhouse noise into a distant hum.
The second we were alone, the tension snapped.
Spinner moved toward me, catching my wrists, holding them tight.
“We’ll clear the air about everythin’ later, Lucy,” he murmured, his voice thick, husky. “Right now, I just need to lose myself in you.”
I stared at him, chest rising and falling, my breath coming too fast.
I felt the same goddamn way.
The weight pressing against my ribs cracked open, and I grabbed onto him like he was the only thing keeping me from shattering.
Spinner’s arms wrapped around me instantly, fiercely, desperately.
Like he was afraid to let go.
Like we were both drowning and this—this—was the only thing keeping us afloat.
His lips crashed into mine—hard, hungry, desperate. A fight and a promise all at once.
I kissed him back with everything I had.
Every fear. Every frustration.
Every ounce of love still left inside me.
When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads pressed together, breathing hard, shaking—I whispered, “Let’s get lost.”
His grip tightened like he was holding onto something he refused to lose. “I’m not losin’ you again, Lucy.” His voice was a rough whisper as he drew me toward the bed.
“You never have to.”
Spinner exhaled sharply, then kissed me again—deeper this time—before pushing me onto the mattress, his body covering mine.
I felt it then. Thatrightfeeling.