Page 118 of Heart Over Heels

I didn’t sit. Couldn’t. I was far too unsettled to accept any sort of comfort.

Instead, I spoke. “Look, I’m sorry for barging in here, but I can’t just let this go. I can’t letyougo.”

Meeting his eyes was like staring into a void. I’d never seen him so removed. Well, no, I had. The day we met after the Basilica guards had roughed him up. That realization made it clear where I’d been categorized. The dolls weren’t my enemies, but I had become theirs.

“You know I care about you, right?” I took a tentative step forward. “You and all of this.” I gestured toward the club beyond the glass. “It’s pretty damn incredible. And to think I nearly ruined it?—”

“Talking makes me thirsty,” Darby said, so abrupt it stalled me. “We should get some drinks.”

He grabbed the cocktail menu off the table and flipped it open.

“Darby…”

He didn’t look up, continuing to scan the options with exaggerated interest.

“We have a few specials tonight. For the theme. Let’s see… the Scarlet Shot, the Professor Plum Punch…” The menu snapped shut, and he fixed me with a sharp smile. “You know what? Let’s try them all. I’m sure you’re good for it.”

Before I could respond, he spun toward the door, hips swaying just enough to remind me how easily he could weaponize grace. He flagged down a passing waitress wearing a demon horn headband and a rubber tail and rattled off the order. My credit card hit her tray with a quiet slap.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Darby said to her, his voice honey smooth. Then he turned back to me, just as saccharine and syrupy. “Why are you still on your feet?” He came closer then stopped directly before me and tilted his head. Thick lashes lowered, and glossed lips parted. “This is where we get comfortable. Don’t you want to relax, baby?”

For a moment, I almost believed it—the invitation, the warmth—but when I looked into his eyes, there wasn’t a hint of desire there. Just my own reflection, dark and hollow in the black of his pupils.

“I don’t feel like sitting,” I said.

His white brows dipped as his expression sharpened. “Maybe I wasn’t clear,” he said. “If you don’t sit, I don’t stay. And you’re getting billed either way.”

The words drove me back toward the couch, and I obeyed, lowering myself onto the stiff cushions.

“Atta boy.” His smile was pure show. “Now, how about you make room for me too? I don’t need much. Just this bit right here…”

He trailed off as he situated himself on my thighs, settling back until his body molded against mine. There was the scent I’d been searching for in the dressing room, fresh and sweet and unbearably familiar. Darby pressed in, his tail looping around my leg and holding on to me the way I wanted to hold on to him.

I stalled until he grabbed my wrists and guided them around his waist, locking my arms where they used to rest so naturally.

“Put your hands here,” he murmured, positioning me like a puppet. I leaned in despite myself, closing what little space was left, and the ache in my chest flared.

He tilted his head back toward my ear, voice soft but venomous. “Did I mention it costs extra to touch?”

This was penance. Punishment. And it hurt. It bruised me to be shoved against the walls he’d built around himself while being so viscerally reminded of a time they weren’t there.

Was it only yesterday when things had been right? It felt like weeks had passed since then.

“Now,” he breathed, all sugar again. “What were you saying, hon?”

I couldn’t recall.

I stayed as he’d placed me, soaking up his heat through the layers between us. My palms flattened over his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath and thumbing over the bead of his nipple ring where it tented the fabric. My cock twitched with interest, but guilt dragged it right back down.

While we sat, he moved. Subtly, sensually, keeping up the illusion of a show. His tail traced slow lines against my calf, and his hands tucked under my thighs as he swayed to the beat pulsing through the glass. I had no way of knowing how long he meant to keep it up or how much either of us could take before something cracked.

I was the first to give in, swallowing against the knot in my throat before forcing the words out. “I’m sorry.”

Darby shifted again, gliding his hands up his own body and dragging me along like I was part of the act. “Is that all?”

“There’s more,” I said quickly. “There is. But please, you need to understand, I didn’t have a choice.”

He went still, giving me a chance I couldn’t afford to waste.