IZZY

“I hate parties,” I mumble under my breath, taking the glass of wine that my brother Griffin hands me.

He gives me one of his lopsided smiles, the right side of his face slightly slack. It’s the only tell-tale sign of his brain aneurysm, along with the slight drag of his right foot when he walks, but I know he hides the internal ones. The headaches, the mood swings, the depression.

“Your fiancé seems to be enjoying himself.” Griffin nods in Jason’s direction, where a roar of laughter comes from the group of men surrounding him.

Jason looks over at me and winks, a broad smile stretching across his handsome face.

Fiancé. I still haven’t gotten used to the word. It just seems so formal. So forced. But then, I’d barely gotten used to dating him when he popped the big question – in front of both our families on Christmas Eve.

“It’s just a bit much. All of it.” I bite my lip, instantly regretting putting a voice to my thoughts.

“I take it the engagement party wasn’t your idea?” Griffin tilts his beer back and takes a deep swig, watching me with blue eyes so similar to my own, filled with something that looks too close to guilt for my liking.

But what would he have to be guilty about?

“No.” What I wouldn’t give for my own bed and a good book right now. But instead, I have to suffer through two more hours in high heels, then a night shift in the ER. “But Mom and Dad look like they’re having fun.”

In fact, I’ve never seen my parents so happy. They love Jason. Everyone does. Well, everyone except Griffin. He hasn’t voiced his concerns, but I see it in the tightness of his features when he talks to him.

“I was thinking of heading over to Charlie’s if you want to get out of here.” Griffin tugs at his tie and grimaces. “I’ve got to get out of this suit before I suffocate.”

“Drama queen.” I chuckle, smiling politely at a young woman who holds out a tray of hors d’oeuvres, despite the way my stomach turns at the sluggish looking paste that tops brioche bread. “If I have to stay here, so do you.”

“Sounds fair,” Griffin says sarcastically.

“Oh my God, is that Moody Brock?” a woman beside me asks in a loud whisper that sounds more like a cat in heat.

Moody Brock.

Just hearing his name makes my throat close and every muscle in my body tense. I don’t need to turn around to feel his presence. It’s like the molecules in the air change, and the temperature increases by several degrees.

Shit.

I look at my brother accusingly. “You invited Moody?”

Griffin frowns at me. “You two used to be friends.”

“That was a long time ago, before–”

“Don’t.” Griffin’s face darkens. “What happened was my own fault.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know I don’t blame him. But if Dad sees him here, he’ll flip.”

“I’ll deal with Dad.”

I glance over at my father whose face is bright red from a mixture of whisky and laughing.

“You shouldn’t have invited him,” I say harshly, just before Moody’s gaze lands on me.

Brown eyes, with flecks of gold and amber, framed by thick, dark lashes that any woman would be jealous of, lock on me.

His hair is longer now, and hangs in light brown waves around the dark scruff of his jaw. I’ve never liked long hair on men, always thought it looked too feminine. But there’s nothing feminine about Moody Brock. The man is a giant. Powerful. Strong. A born fighter.

I’ve only seen him a half dozen times in the past four years. Each meeting was filled with tension, anger, regret…and always the hidden secrets we both keep buried in the deepest, darkest parts of our souls.

And just like every time I see him, I can feel the memory of that one night we shared, on every inch of my body.

With wickedly talented fingers and hard thrusts of his cock, he’d taken my virginity, my sanity, and left me completely and utterly destroyed.

He’d marked me. Heart, body, and soul.

It’s what I’d wanted. What I’d dreamt about for years. I’d saved myself for him. Sure, I knew he was a player. My brother warned me about Moody’s pursuits. But naively, I’d thought it would be different with me.

What a fool I’d been.

“Izzy.” Moody’s gaze is dark, pulling me from my memories into the harsh reality in front of me.

The truth is, I never really knew him. Because the man I thought he was would never have used me the way he did.

Griffin slaps Moody on the back. “Thanks for coming.”

Moody nods tightly, his eyes never leaving mine.

I should walk away. No, I should run. Instead, I just stand there, trapped in the heat of his gaze.

“Any more of those?” Moody nods at the beer Griffin’s holding.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

Moody and I both watch Griffin walk away towards the bar.

A long, tension-filled silence stretches between us.

“It’s good to see you.” He gives me a slow, sexy smile, as if he’s aware of the ache centered between my thighs. His gaze is piercing, and I swear he sees right through me. Sees every hidden thought, every secret longing I’ve tried to deny over the past four years. Heat rises to my cheeks the longer his eyes linger on me.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see for myself.” His voice is gravelly, and he takes a step closer, his features taking on a hard edge. “You’re really getting married?”

“Yes.” My core clenches, my body betraying me. I can’t believe I still crave his touch after all these years, after everything I know about him.

“And you’re happy?”

I swallow hard and nod, barely able to speak with him so close. My body is wound up with arousal. And by the way he’s looking at me, he knows it.

Only Moody can do this to me, and I hate him for it.

“Good.” He brushes his knuckles across my cheek. An intimate gesture that makes my knees nearly buckle beneath me. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

His touch is like a drug, intoxicating, powerful – dangerous. Making me want to forget that I know exactly who he really is. The Destroyer.

“Moody Brock.” Jason’s arm is suddenly around my waist, his fingers pressing almost painfully into my side as he draws me tight against him. “I see you’ve met my fiancée?”

Moody’s gaze snaps to his, and something dark passes between them. Then, he glances back at me. “This is who you’re marrying?”

I feel Jason tense. His fingers dig deeper into my waist and I do my best not to wince.

“Careful, Brock.” Jason’s tone is hard, threatening.

Despite the withering look Moody gives him, Jason doesn’t flinch.

“You know each other?” I look up at Jason, then back at Moody, who looks ready for a fight.

“We go way back, don’t we, buddy?” There’s something behind Jason’s words that I don’t understand. A bitterness, or maybe rivalry.

Even though I try not to, it’s hard not to draw comparisons. I’ve never thought of Jason as a pretty boy until now, but next to Moody’s rough, masculine sexiness, Jason’s forced charm is a shadowy second.

The tension between the men is interrupted when a middle-aged woman I recognize as a wife of one of Jason’s clients wraps her manicured fingers around Jason’s biceps, looking up at him with heavily coaled cougar eyes.

“Jason, sweetheart. Bill is asking that you join us for a drink before we head out.” Her words are slightly slurred.

“Of course,” Jason says tightly. He grips my chin with his free hand and kisses me hard on the lips. “I’ll be right back.”

I don’t miss the look he gives Moody before allowing himself to be carted away into the crowd.

“You’re really going to marry that douchebag?” Moody’s nostrils flare and a small tic starts in the muscle of his jaw.

“Yes.” I start to turn, but he reaches out and grabs my wrist, sending a zillion electric shockwaves pulsing through my body.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt.” His callused fingers run up my bare arm, and I can’t help but remember how they felt someplace else, someplace a lot more sensitive.

Get a grip, Izzy.

“You should have thought about that four years ago,” I bite out, using the words as a shield.

He holds my gaze.

Silence.

Tension.

Heat.

“Everything all right here?” Griffin is back, holding two beers, eyes darting between the two of us.

Moody releases me quickly and straightens. “Yeah. I was just leaving.”

“You just got here.”

“Something came up. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Without another word, Moody turns and stalks through the crowd, leaving Griffin staring at me in bewilderment.

“What was that about?” Griffin eyes me suspiciously.

“Nothing,” I mutter, because I seriously have no clue what the hell just happened.