Did Jason Todd look like a jealous man?

He felt like one—and he was sure you could smell it on him from across the dance floor.

You’d fought earlier. Nothing huge, but enough to put him in the penalty box for the night. Now he was parked at the bar, nursing a drink and trying not to look like every other creep staring your way.

But you made it impossible. You were in the middle of the floor, your home girls hyping you up, the bass thudding through the air as you moved. You knew the attention you were getting—hell, you were reveling in it. Swaying to the music, tossing glances, laughing like the fight never happened.

Jason’s jaw was tight. He hated the way every set of eyes seemed to follow you. He hated even more that he couldn’t look away.