“She’s with me,” I said to the bouncer, grabbing Ivy’s hand and pulling her through the crowd at the door. Of all the places we could be, she chose Club 35. At least we didn’t start round two until the day after tomorrow.

“Bridgerton. Nice game last week,” the guy said with a nod. “You ready to kill it again?”

“You know it.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, literally parting the velvet rope to let us pass after we left Zach’s name so he could get in, too. Pepper and Eric came in behind us, having joined us when Ivy swore she needed to change before coming out.

I almost wished she’d stayed in her skirt and professional blouse because that dress she’d chosen was going to be the death of me. It wasn’t even the cut, in all honesty, it was a hell of a lot more modest than what most the girls were wearing in here. The neckline cut straight across her collarbone, highlighting the delicate arch of her neck, and the sleeves came to just above her elbow. It was the hemline, midway upper thighs, that was going to give me heart palpitations. It was classy and sexy all the same time, flirtatious in the way the material hugged her curves. Basically, it was the dress version of Ivy. So naturally, I was drawn to it, just the way I was drawn to her.

I kept her hand in mine as we entered the club, skipping the dance floor, where bodies writhed to the music, the bass so heavy I felt it in my chest.

“It’s old school night,” Ivy told me as we passed the bar.

“Well, that explains the Dre,” I answered her. “Do you want to drink?” The music was so loud I was nearly yelling to be heard.

She rose up on her toes until her lips brushed my cheek. “Lemon drop martini, please.”

Every muscle in my body went rigid, and I reminded myself that I’d sworn she was going to have to ask for it the next time I put my hands on her. Hearing her admit that she wanted it just as badly as I had nearly broke my self-control at her office. It was the fact that she hadn’t told me why she’d run out that kept me in check.

“Got it,” I said, turning just slightly so my lips didn’t brush her ear.

I raised my hand, and within a few seconds, the bartender made his way to us and took our drink order. “Can you have those sent up to the VIP lounge?” I asked him after Eric added his and Pepper’s order.

“Sure thing Mr. Bridgerton,” the bartender answered as I handed him a fifty for a tip.

Ivy arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

“I figured you’d want to take a loop, and see who was here before heading up to the VIP,” I told her. “Unless you have other plans?”

She shook her head, giving me a look that a few months ago I would have rolled my eyes at. I was beginning to understand that Ivy might be a flirt, but it was like it was simply built into her DNA. Almost unintentional, just part of her nature. But I’d also learned the difference between her natural magnetism and when she chose to turn on the charm, to seduce a simple smile from me.

“That’s perfect,” she yelled above the music.

I clued Eric and Pepper into our plans, and they headed up to the VIP lounge, knowing that Lukas was waiting for them.

“It seems busy for Tuesday night,” Ivy shouted.

“Nah, this is pretty normal. I think the weeknights are just as popular because you have a higher chance of getting in.”

“Unless you’re a Shark, in which case you always get in, right?” She asked. I watched her transform from the Ivy I knew into the analytical reporter looking for her scoop. It was ridiculously hot to see that beautiful brain at work as her eyes swept the crowd.

“I don’t know,” I said as I leaned back against the bar. “I’m having a hell of a time getting in.”

“Really?” She threw a look over her shoulder that would have withered a lesser man.

I answered with a smile that wiped that glare right off her face. Her lips parted, and she nibbled the lower one between her teeth before turning her attention back to the crowd.

Sorry, Ivy Harris, you’ve met your match.

The problem with getting that taste and knowing she’d wanted it, too? I wasn’t going to be satisfied until we’d plumbed the depths of what we could be. It wasn’t just a physical attraction, and I wasn’t about to be deterred because she’d had a freak-out mid-kiss. So until she was ready to tell me just what the hell had gone through her head, I was going to use our insane chemistry, both physical and verbal, against her.

And I was going to win.

“There’s Rob Dyon,” I pointed over her shoulder and leaned so she could follow.

“The tech genius?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“If I was a real reporter, he’d be exactly who I was looking for,” she muttered, but I heard her.

“What do you mean?” Something ugly turned in my stomach.

She turned slightly so I could hear her as the music switched to Snoop. It was circa 1997 in here, and I was loving it.

“I mean, if I was a real reporter, I’d go ask him if I could get a few quotes on his new smart house tech that’s making it possible for a greater percentage of the disabled community to live independently. Maybe I’d even work up the nerve to ask him to give me a tour since he’s been so secretive about the whole thing.”

“Right. It’s because his daughter has special needs, right?”

She nodded. “But he’s so private about it and doesn’t do interviews about it because he doesn’t think charity is something that should be publicized.”

“Ah, yes. It’s hard to get good guys on the front page if they won’t show you their capes, right?”

“Something like that,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t matter, because I don’t get to write those stories.”

Sick of yelling over the music, I grabbed her hand and walked to a deserted alcove that was usually used for much less platonic reasons.

“So write the story. Tell him that you’ll keep his daughter out of it. I bet he just wants to respect her privacy. Or you could ask his partner, what’s his name?” Tech was not my scene past how to work my DVR.

“Matias Alameda,” she answered. “He’s more the public face of the company, especially since Rob Dyon’s wife died a few years ago.”

“Okay, and tell me again why you can’t write the story?” I couldn’t figure it out. “I mean, if you write the celebrity column over at the Chronicle, that should be right up your alley…right?”

“It doesn’t exactly work like that, Connor,” she snapped. “I haven’t paid my dues yet, so I don’t get to decide what I write. To be honest, sometimes I feel like I work at a glorified version of a tabloid. They just want the bigger names. All gossip, just verified.”

“I thought this was your dream job?” I asked, trying to understand why she would do something that she obviously wasn’t happy with.

“It’s more like the front door to my dream job. Kind of like I got past the bouncer, but can’t get up to the VIP lounge just yet. Not unless I give them what they want.”

Before I could tell her that was bullshit, that I’d read her column and knew she was capable of so much more, turning it into what she wanted—a place to find hope in the good deeds in the world—Zach appeared behind her shoulder.

“Have you seen who’s here yet?” He asked. “I saw few Sharks headed up to the VIP lounge…”

Okay, this guy just lost his golden ticket with me.

“I told you, Sharks are off-limits.” Ivy stared him down. “That’s my family you’re talking about.”

Zach put his hands up. “Fine, I’m just trying to help you keep your job. Keep our jobs.” He gave her a look that had me assessing the best way to knock his ass on the ground, but there was also a hint of desperation that told me there was more to this than his need to score the next story.

“Yeah,” Ivy fired back. “We can do that without taking advantage of my family. I saw Rob Dyon here. Maybe we could ask him for an interview about that new tech.”

Maybe it made me a sucker, but my heart swelled, not just proud of her, but weirdly satisfied that she’d listened to me.

“You know that’s not going to fly at the paper.” Zach took his camera from around his neck. “No one is interested in that technology, at least not the people frequenting this column. They want to know who’s hooking up with whom, who split up, and who’s in the middle of a midlife crisis. That stuff you want to write about is great, but it’s not what they’re looking for.”

Ivy’s shoulders drooped just a fraction of an inch as if Zach had actually cut her off at the knees.

“Fine, then let’s head up to the VIP lounge and see who we can find,” she suggested.

“Exactly,” he answered her with a relieved smile. Yeah, I hated this guy.

“Let’s go,” I said, taking Ivy’s hand again. I’d take them up there, but it was only for Ivy’s good. Fuck the other guy.

We made our way around the dance floor, sticking to the edges so we didn’t get pulled into the throng of people. As we approached the staircase that led up to the VIP lounge, the bouncer gave me a nod and stepped aside, clearing the way.

“Damn,” Zach muttered. “I guess it’s good to be king.”

“I’m not even close to the king. But until recently, I liked to unwind here, so they know me pretty well.” That was another aspect of my life Hannah had changed, and definitely for the better. In the past month, I was in better shape, not only from eating better as I made sure she got nutritious meals, but also because I could hit my personal gym once Hannah was asleep. The new house just gave me a bigger version of my old set up and a pool. There was nothing like swimming to tone your whole body.

Ivy and I were up the first couple of steps when the bouncer stopped Zach.

“No cameras,” he ordered. “Not up there.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Zach asked. “What happened to freedom of the press?”

The bouncer held his hand. “That ends at the velvet rope. People don’t come here, don’t go up there to be watched. They pay for privacy, and we give it to them. I’ll ask you one more time, and that’s only because you’re here with him,” he pointed up to me. “Would you like to give me your camera, or would you like to stay on the main level?” There was zero room for negotiation in his eyes.

Zach’s face tensed, but he handed the camera to the bouncer. “You break it or lose it, you buy it,” Zach warned. “And it’s worth thousands of dollars.”

“I’ll keep it nice and toasty warm for you,” the bouncer answered with a wink that told me he really didn’t give a fuck.

He let Zach pass, and we continued up the steps, finally reaching the level of the VIP lounge. There was a small balcony overlooking the dance floor, and a frosted glass door that read, “Club 36, one above the rest.”

I pushed open the door and let Ivy in, dropping her hand to avoid anyone assuming they knew what was going on with us. Maybe I should’ve left it and let someone else tell me what was going on with us because I sure as hell didn’t know. The only thing I did know? I would do whatever it took to protect Ivy from team gossip. God knew she’d already had her fair share of it thanks to Crosby.

“There he is!” Lukas exclaimed from the red velvet couch. Pepper and Eric occupied the loveseat that faced him, and Porter consumed the armchair that rounded out one of five seating areas in the lounge.

Ivy and I sat on the couch, leaving Zach to drag a chair over from the small tables that ran along the one-way glass. I wasn’t sorry. The guy was lucky I’d even let him in here after that shit he pulled.

I handed Ivy her martini, which been delivered to our table, and took my ginger ale. I learned from an early age that if you drink ginger ale, no one looked twice, assuming the tan color included your choice of alcohol. I’d also learned early to watch how much I drank, knowing that addiction was in my blood.

“I miss my wingman,” Lukas declared. “It was so much easier to get laid with you at my side.”

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you’re having problems with the ladies,” Ivy threw at him with an easy grin.

“Me? Never. The accent gets them every time.” He winked at her, and I felt a surge of possessiveness that I had no right to.

Not that he was actually flirting with her. Lukas was lethal with charm when he wanted to be. In that way, he was a lot like Ivy.

“I’m just saying that it was a lot easier to take a lady home if Connor was willing to take her friend.” He leaned back against the couch.

Ivy turned and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Down girl,” Pepper ordered. “He’s young, gorgeous, and single, too.” She arched an identical eyebrow at her sister, and I would’ve killed to know what conversation had been had that this little inside comment was referencing.

Ivy raised her martini glass toward her sister. “Touché.” She took a sip of her martini and looked around the lounge, no doubt surveying the space to see who was in here.

“So are you saying that Porter here is a bad wingman?” I asked, hoping to keep the others distracted while Ivy did her job. Nothing was more obvious than an entire group of people turning to stare.

Porter shook his head and sipped on a glass that looked identical to mine, and remembered he’d said he didn’t drink, but never explained why, not that he needed to. “Not interested,” he said.

“It wouldn’t matter if he was,” Lukas added. “He’s not exactly the approachable type. He honestly serves more as reparent to the ladies. They all watch him, but they all steer clear.”

“It’s repellent,” I corrected him. My guess was that Porter’s self-imposed celibacy had something to do with whatever had sent him here from Ontario.

“If you don’t like the ladies,” Zach interjected, “maybe you like the gentlemen?”

Porter didn’t say a word, just sipped his drink and stared Zach down.

“Porter is about as gay as I am,” Lukas answered, waving the bartender down for another drink.

“Off-limits,” Ivy hissed at Zach.

I had to admit, her possessiveness was sexy as hell.

“Jesus, Ivy,” Zach responded. “I was just curious.”

“I’m not gay,” Porter answered. “I’m just discerning. And seriously, when are you guys going to call me by my name?”

“When you earn it,” Eric retorted with a quick smile.

Porter simply shook his head and went back to his drink.

“Oh,” Ivy said, looking past her sister. “I think that’s David Armstrong, but who is he sitting with?”

I followed her line of sight. “Yeah that’s David,” I recognized the major league baseball player. “And that’s the manager for the Marlins.”

“But doesn’t he play for Cincinnati?” She asked me.

“Sure does,” I answered, more than a little impressed that she recognized the athlete.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Ivy said as she stood and tugged the hemline of that incredible dress down her thighs. “Zach?”

Like a faithful puppy, he immediately followed as she headed toward the small, but stocked VIP bar against the wall, conveniently close to Armstrong.

I wasn’t sure if the guy was going to take pictures with his eyes, considering his camera had been confiscated, but I wasn’t too concerned.

“Who has Hannah?” Porter asked.

That was another thing about the guy. For being tough, unapproachable, and more than a little intimidating considering his size, he had a soft spot for Hannah. I guess that gave me a little soft spot for him. I knew it had been hard for him to be traded here, considering the rivalry that brought our teams to blows nearly every season. I was pretty sure Porter had been the one to break Davis’s front tooth off last year when the benches cleared.

“Faith,” I answered, my eyes tracking Ivy as she made her way down the bar, chatting it up with a couple local celebs. “I actually can’t stay out too late. I don’t like her driving back to her dorm past midnight.”

Porter grunted, nodding his head. “College campuses aren’t always the safest places for young ladies. Shame that they can be populated by such assholes.”

“Amen,” Eric added. “I made sure she was in the best dorm on campus. Hell, I wanted her to live with us, but someone,” he nudged his wife, “told me that she deserved a true college experience without an overbearing older brother in her way.”

Pepper smiled. “Hey, her dorm is great. She’s in a private room in a suite with two other girls. It’s not like she’s been shoved into a 5 x 7 cube with bunk beds and a group shower that she has to wear flip-flops in.”

“Don’t knock group showers,” Lukas said.

“I want to dance,” Pepper said suddenly, changing the subject. She was like that, making up her mind about something quickly and not pausing to care what anyone else thought except Eric.

“Your wish is my command,” the giant ginger answered, taking Pepper’s hand and leading her out of the lounge.

“So Faith is at your house,” Lukas asked, his innocent tone absolutely negated by the interest in his eye.

“No,” I said as assertively as I could in the small, confined space. “The answer is no. It will always be no. As a matter fact, the answer to even thinking it is no.”

It took a second for me to realize that the dark chuckle I heard was coming from Porter.

“What?” Lukas asked. “Aren’t I allowed to be concerned for teammates’ sister?”

“No,” I responded. “You’re not. At least not Faith. Now, if Crosby has a sister, I’m all about it.”

“Whatever. I’m getting bored. I think it’s time to go hunting.” Lukas put his newly-filled drink down.

“I said no,” Ivy snapped as she came back over, Zach in tow.

“But, that is the story,” he responded in the same curt tone. “If you’re too stupidly moralistic to see it—”

I stood, my height giving easily six inches on the guy. “Yeah, I think this is where you leave because no one talks to her like that. At least not in front of me. And also, you say moralistic like it’s a bad thing.”

“Yeah, okay.” He rolled his eyes, and it was all I could do not to throw him through the glass. But brawling wasn’t something Hannah’s social worker would look favorably upon. “Look, I’ll just see you tomorrow at the office, but please think about what I said. It’s not just your career that you’ve got on the line here. It’s mine, too.”

Ivy softened a little, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to.

“Good night, Zach.” The guy paled a little under my glare, finally understanding that I meant what I said when it came to Ivy. He nodded once and almost ran out the VIP door.

“I’m so done tonight,” Ivy groaned. “Can we go dance? I’d love to turn my brain off for a while.”

“I’d be happy to dance with you,” Lukas answered as he stood.

“No.”

“No.”

Porter and I answered simultaneously.

“You guys are no fun.” Lukas led the way, and Ivy and I followed him out. It didn’t surprise me that Porter remained behind. He hardly seemed like the club dancing type.

“What was that about?” I asked Ivy as we descended the steps.

“I saw something. Something no one else was meant to see.” Her tone had dropped to a hushed whisper, so I paused on the steps, turning so that we were at the same eye level.

“The Armstrong thing? I honestly think that’s a good scoop. A couple of calls, and you can have enough to run with it. You don’t even need the picture to say that you saw him meeting with Marlins management.”

“That’s the problem. I got close enough to introduce myself, play the flirty blonde and tell him what a great fan I was. I saw terms on the table. It’s a good scoop.” She bit her lower lip, and I knew I hadn’t heard what was really bothering her.

“Okay, so what’s the problem?”

“I pulled Zach into that private booth. You know, the one that overlooks the dance floor?”

“I know it.” I knew the room well. Hell, I’d fucked a girl or two in that room. I didn’t even want to think that she might have had the same experience while dating Crosby.

“Right, so I pulled him in there to ask him what we should do without the camera, but we weren’t alone. Rob Dyon was in there, and he wasn’t alone.”

“Okay.”

“Connor, he was in there with Brandon Alameda.”

“Alameda, as in his partner? Like, his brother?” This could be bad.

“His partner’s son.”

“And they were…” I leaned forward.

She lifted her eyebrows.

“Oh. I didn’t realize Dyon was gay. Shows you how much I pay attention to the news.” I shrugged. “So what’s the big deal? Is it because he’s his partner’s son?”

“No, it’s because Dyon isn’t out yet.”

“Oh. Shit. Ivy, you’re not going to…” Please, God, tell me I knew her better than that.

“No!” she hissed. “I’d never! I mean, that’s his decision. Not mine. Zach whipped out his cell phone, but I smacked his hand down before he could snap a picture. That’s what the argument was about. The Armstrong meeting is absolutely newsworthy and won’t hurt anyone. I didn’t become a reporter so I could ruin families.”

“I’m proud of you,” I told her, my voice drifting into sentimental territory. “I know that as much as you know you did the right thing, it has to be hard to walk away from something that could launch your career. Even if it’s in a direction you don’t want to go.”

Before she could respond, Lukas called up from the dance floor beneath us and waved us down. He was surrounded by women all dressed alike except for the brunette with a tiara.

“This should be good,” I muttered, and we headed down the steps.

“Here he is!” Lukas grinned and slapped me on the shoulder as Ivy headed over to Pepper.

“Oh. My. God. You’re Connor Bridgerton!” The Brunette squealed loud enough to hurt my ears over the music.

“I am,” I confirmed, plastering a smile on my face. I was never a dick to fans.

“Connor, this is my friend Vicky, and it’s her birthday today,” Lukas said as Vicky pointed to the birthday girl scrawled across her chest in rhinestones.

“I can see that. Happy Birthday, Vicky.” My eyes flickered to where Ivy talked to her sister. Even in a crowd of women, I couldn’t keep my attention from the one I couldn’t have...yet.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting you! Lukas said he could get me a dance with you, but I didn’t believe him!” She staggered forward, obviously three sheets to the wind.

“Whoa,” I said, catching her by the elbows.

“You will, right?” Lukas all-but begged, his gaze shooting to the blonde at his left.

My eyes narrowed at him. I was so not wingmanning this. There was zero chance I was taking this girl to her home. Not tonight. Not with Ivy twenty feet away. I wouldn’t have done it even if Ivy wasn’t here.

Because she already owns you.

Shit. The truth smacked me in the face like one of those fishes they tossed around at Pike’s Market.

“Just a dance,” Lukas escalated to full-out begging.

Dancing was something I could handle. It wasn’t like she was going to accost me in a public space.

“Sure,” I agreed.

Vicky squealed again and launched herself at me.

I caught her again so she wouldn’t fall, and quickly got her upright, stepping away at the same time.

I started dancing, doing everything I could to avoid actual contact with Vicky. No matter what I did, she followed, stepping into my space.

My eyes looked over the crowd, finding Ivy’s. Her mouth was open, but it wasn’t in shock or even anger. Oh no, she was flat-out laughing at me.

I sent her a glare and did my best non-bump-and-grind.

Vicky looked up at me and licked her lips. I’m sure it was meant to be sexy, but as drunk as she was, it looked more like she was trying to clean half her face with her tongue.

“I’ve always loved you,” she said, throwing her arms around my neck. “We’re destined to be together. You and me tonight? It’s fate,” she slurred.

If I wasn’t careful, I was going to end up in a dungeon at her house being told to rub the lotion on my skin or I’d get the hose.

I peeled her hands off my neck and moved back, searching for Ivy, who was nowhere to be found.

“Don’t you feel it too?” Vicky asked.

If she meant the extreme need to vacate the premises, then yep, I felt it, too.

She lunged forward again, only to be met with a slender pair of arms on a petite frame.

“Oh! Thank you so much for keeping an eye on him for me! I’ll take my boyfriend from here.” Ivy gripped my hand and tugged me away quickly, moving through the crowd until she found a semi-clear area.

“You’re amazing,” I told her. “Thank you. It’s not that I mind dancing with girls, but she was wicked drunk.”

She looked around my side and quickly popped back up. “Dance with me. She’s headed this way.”

Pony by Ginuwine came on the speakers, and I cursed my luck. This was the last shit I needed to be dancing to with—

Ivy plastered her body against mine and every protest I’d had died a happy death.

Then she started moving, and it took a second for blood to return to my brain long enough to me to form the coherent thought that I should dance, too.

“You suck at this,” she teased me, looping her arms around my neck and running her nails up the base of my head.

Challenge accepted.

I moved so my thigh was between hers, then gripped her hips and started to grind in a rhythm that told her exactly what was on my mind.

She gasped but didn’t stop.

Our bodies moved to the slow, sexual beat, moving together like we’d been dancing—or fucking—for years. It didn’t escape me how similar our pose was to when I’d kissed her, my hands on the curves of her hips, hers sliding into my hair.

Apparently, twenty-four hours was our time limit for keeping our hands off each other, which worked in my favor.

Her curves slid over me, her breasts pressed against my chest, thighs clasping mine in a way that sent my mind straight to what they’d feel like around my hips, her ankles locking behind my back as I pounded into her.

My dick readily agreed with me, more than rising to the occasion.

I saw the moment she realized it, her eyes widening slightly, her lips parting, her breath coming in little pants. When I dipped my head toward hers, she spun, which would have been less intimate had her ass not perfectly cradled my erection.

Yeah, I’d take her this way, too, on all fours, braced against my headboard so she could rock back into me while I fucked her mindless with orgasms. She’d need two—no three, at least to satisfy me, to make sure I was the only one she’d be taking to her bed.

Just me. Only me.

My fingers flexed on her hips, imagining it was her bare skin. Hers lingered at my neck as she slid down me like a siren. I was more than ready to hear her call.

Fuck, I needed to taste her. Here. Now. Needed my tongue inside her mouth, something of me claiming her, invading her. Seeing as my dick or my fingers were the least of the acceptable options in a crowded club, my tongue would have to do.

My hand turned her head toward mine, and I lowered my head until her breaths hit my lips. I didn’t look away from her eyes, which were the most beautiful, desire-hazed blue I’d ever seen.

“Ask me.” She had to. I needed her to make the move this time.

Instead, she ground against my dick and slid back up my frame until her lips nearly brushed mine.

Never before had not fucking a woman consumed me. Driven me to the brink.

“Ivy.” It was a plea. A warning. A damned compliment. Everything.

Her lips parted just as the last bars of the song played out, and just as I was ready to kiss the shit out of her, she whispered, “I can’t,” and stepped out of my arms.

I stood in the center of the dance floor, speechless, turned on, frustrated, and fucking laughing. God, the woman was twisting me into knots.

She grabbed Pepper’s hand and disappeared into the ladies’ room.

“Guess that solves that question,” Eric said, appearing at my side.

“What?” I asked, my voice gruff. I wasn’t in the mood for his shit about Ivy, about how he was all for us flipping the magnet from opposing to attached.

“That girls really do have to go to the bathroom in pairs,” he answered with a shrug.

I laughed again. “She’s killing me.”

“Yeah, the right one will do that to you. Let’s get back upstairs and make sure Porter hasn’t killed anyone.”

I agreed. Besides, it was already ten-thirty and getting late if I wanted to make sure Faith got back to her dorm at a decent time.

We found Porter and Lukas back in their seats, both nursing drinks.

“You owe me,” I told Lukas.

“Why?”

“You ditched the brunette, and she got so pissed she took my evening plans home with her.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“What, after she stalked me across the floor again? She was relentless!”

“What are you talking about?” His forehead puckered. “She took off in a huff the minute you and Ivy disappeared into the crowd.”

Huh. That would mean that Ivy had wanted to dance with me. I was torn between smiling and growling at her. The woman was constantly telling me one thing and doing another. Just once I wish her words matched her actions.

“Ivy?”

My muscles locked at the sound of Crosby’s voice, and I looked over slowly as he sauntered toward me, no less drunk than the brunette had been.

“Not here, not now,” I told him, hoping the warning was clear.

“Where would you rather discuss it? The locker room?” He laughed. “I saw you two all over each other down there.”

“It’s none of your business.” I wasn’t even sure it was business.

“True,” he said, cocking his head to the side.

How the hell had she been with this guy? Let him inside her body and her heart? Let him fuck her over so completely that she’d turned on her own sister?

“Glad we agree. Eric, we should probably leave.”

“I mean, why should I care who’s she’s fucking now? Been there, done that.” His volume escalated, turning every head in the lounge.

I silently counted to ten, using the childhood trick I’d clung to so I didn’t get thrown out any foster homes for punching other asshole kids.

“Don’t listen to him,” Eric whispered. “Just walk away.”

Somehow my feet moved, propelling me toward the door, my fists clenched at my sides.

“Tell me something. Have you kissed that little birthmark she has on the inside of her thigh? Drives her fucking wild. If you can’t get the job done, let me know. I’m happy to give you tips, brother.”

I paused, anger firing through every nerve in my body.

Don’t. You can’t get into bar brawls. Not now.

“Keep walking,” Eric ordered.

“After all, if you’re willing to take my sloppy seconds, I should help you out. You can do the same for the next Shark she fucks, and we’ll just start a little club.”

I didn’t remember turning around or even moving. Suddenly, my fist connected with his jaw, then I followed him down to the ground, swinging again and again.

“Fuck! Lukas! Porter!” I vaguely heard Eric call out as I brought my fist back again.

“Connor!” Ivy’s voice broke through the haze, and I turned to see her in the doorway, horror displayed on every line of her face. “What the hell are you doing?”

The distraction cost me. Crosby struck back, his fist slamming into my upper cheek.

I saw stars, but I whipped around and struck again, a satisfying crunch sounding as my fist met his nose.

“Fuck!”

Arms pulled me off, lifting me to my feet and pinning my hands behind my back.

Crosby scrambled up and charged me.

Porter stepped in, taking him to the wall with the same ease he knocked off opposing players who entered his zone. “That’s enough,” he growled, his forearm pressed at the base of Crosby’s neck.

I couldn’t move. Eric and Lukas had me locked down.

“Walk out of here, now, Crosby, before I let him go at you again,” Eric warned.

Porter removed his arm and stepped aside so Crosby could pass.

Crosby’s nose dripped blood, the bone anything but straight.

“You might want to get that set,” I flat-out mocked him, even though I felt my eye already swelling shut.

“Fuck you,” he seethed.

“I’m fine,” I told the guys.

They trusted me at my word and let my arms go.

I turned slowly, keeping my eyes on Crosby as he walked by me, headed toward the door.

“And fuck you,” he told Ivy.

I found my arms pinned again, but only by Eric. More a reminder, less a barrier.

“My own teammate? You’re such a little slut.”

I saw red.

Lukas joined Eric, and now I really was restrained.

Ivy lifted her chin. “Well, I guess you’d be one to know, seeing how many times you fucked me while we were dating, right?”

The words sickened my stomach. Like I needed a damned reminder that he’d been inside her. That he’d had the one woman I’d longed for since the first second I’d set eyes on her. That I hadn’t been her first choice, which could mean I wouldn’t ever be her choice.

Because she’d looked right past me at that party and gone for him.

And in that second, as much as I knew I was falling for her, I remembered why I’d just about hated her for so long.

Crosby left, the only sound in the lounge coming from the throbbing bass from the speakers below.

Ivy turned toward me as I shook off the guys.

Her eyes locked with mine, both anger and a plea shining from those depths.

A plea for what? To understand her past? To stop punching the guy she’d loved? The guy she’d no-doubt choose again if he gave her the option? If he’d been worthy of risking everything to go against coach’s no-player rule, then there were real feelings there.

Hell, she wouldn’t even risk giving me a kiss freely.

She moved toward me, and I shook my head, knowing if I opened my mouth right now, only poison would come out, and neither of us needed that.

She stopped, startled, her eyes flickering to the Sharks around us. Then she lifted her chin again—so damn strong, shook her head at me, and walked out, her sister hot on her heels.

Maybe it was best for us both if she left.

Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt worse than my face.

That was a dull ache.

Ivy was shredding my damned soul.