Page 75 of Stroke of Fate

“You mean when you left me hanging and walked away?” Despite her casual tone, I detect an undercurrent of hurt.

“You know why I did that, right?” I say, tone even despite the pit in my stomach at the thought that I left her feeling upset.

I need her to understand that it had nothing to do with me not wanting her like that.

Bear takes a slow slip of water, watching me over the rim of the bottle, and I feel like I’m holding my breath as I wait for her response. A slow smile spreads across her lips when she lowers the bottle, and a whoosh of air leaves my lungs.

“Don’t worry, I know.”

She steps closer, her fingers brushing mine, as her gaze drifts over the fire pits scattered throughout the clearing. Groups of people are gathered around them, some sitting in chairs, others standing. Beyond them, music blares from speakers, and a crowd forms, dancing to whatever song is playing.

“I was expecting one big giant bonfire,” Bear muses.

“Fire hazard,” I explain. “According to the rumor mill, it got so out of control one year that the fire department had to be called. The sorority hosting this managed to talk their wayinto keeping the tradition by compromising with smaller fire pits instead.”

“How is that any less of a fire hazard?”

I shrug. “No idea. Maybe it’s easier to contain or something.”

“And they managed to keep the underage drinking included in the compromise, too.” A soft laugh leaves her, and my lips tug up.

The sound never fails to make me smile.

“Not sure, but somehow, someone always sneaks alcohol in.”

I glance around and notice Macy and Elise have disappeared from their spots. “Where’d your friends go?”

“Dancing,” she says, eyeing me over the rim of the water bottle as she takes another small sip.

There’s something about the way she’s looking at me that makes me uneasy.

“No,” I say, shaking my head as it clicks.

Even from here, the crowd looks intimating, and my palms are already fucking sweaty just thinking about joining them.

“Please.” Bear’s lower lip pops out slightly. “We barely got to dance together at the last party.”

“I don’t dance.” And if I did, I’d need something stronger than water, but that’s not happening since I’m driving.

“Don’t or can’t?” Her brows lift in a challenge, and I try not to take the bait.

“Bear,” I groan.

“Levi,” she taunts back with a groan of her own, and I shake my head.

This girl.

She places her half-empty water bottle on a nearby table and takes mine out of my hands, setting it next to hers before meeting me, chest to chest.

God, I love how tall she is. She barely has to tilt her head to look up at me.

Her hand trails down my pecs, over my stomach muscles, and lands directly on my crotch. To anyone looking over at us, they’d think we were merely in an intimate embrace.

Her hand gives my dick a squeeze over the fabric of my jeans, and I swallow hard.

“Bear,” I warn, my tone low and strained.

“Dance with me, please?” She bats her eyes playfully.

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