Page 22 of Bound By Crimson
Rowan wasn’t by his side. She stood across the room, chatting with a group of mutual friends.
Eric, however, was staring at Lyric. His gaze pinned her where she stood.
Before she could look away, he was moving toward her.
“Lyric.” His voice was low, earnest. “Can we talk?”
She froze.
He was now in front of her.
Tall. Dirty blond hair falling just right, familiar blue eyes watching her with that same intensity she used to crave. His cologne drifted between them—the same scent that had once comforted her. Now, it only made her skin crawl.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His words rushed out, desperate. “I never should have let you go. Rowan and I—it was a mistake. You know that, right? We were a mistake.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Come on, Lyric. I know you feel it too. You always did.”
His fingers lifted to brush her cheek—an old gesture. One that once would’ve made her heart race.
Now, it made her stomach turn. She recoiled inside, resisting the urge to flinch.
She shifted back, trying to pull away. As she moved, her eyes flicked over his shoulder. She’d wondered where Rowan had gone. Now she spotted her—moving through the crowd, two drinks in her hands, a bright smile fading as she realized what was happening.
Eric didn’t notice. His thumb lingered against Lyric’s skin.
“This can’t be over. Not really. Not for us.”
Her stomach twisted.Not for us?The audacity. The selfishness.
But before she could speak, a low, velvet voice slid through the tension.
“Hey, beautiful. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Lyric barely had time to process the words before he was there.
Not at her side. Not at a polite distance.
He owned the space between them.
Tall. Dark. Dressed in black from neck to boots. His face half-shadowed, overhead lights catching only the wicked curve of his mouth.
Lyric couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The entire room melted away.
He reached for her, fingers curling into the fabric at her waist. Without a word, without hesitation, he pulled her against him.
The kiss was raw. Hungry. Claiming.
His mouth was firm, demanding, devouring—like he’d been starving for her.
She heard Rowan’s sharp intake of breath. Felt Eric’s glare burning into the side of her face.
She didn’t care.
Lyric melted into him, fists clutching at his jacket, drinking in everything he gave without shame.
When he finally—reluctantly—broke the kiss, he grinned against her mouth. Wicked. Wild.
He grabbed her hand and tugged. “Come.”
