Josh had been chasing you for weeks.

Flirty texts, teasing touches, those damn smirks that made your stomach flip. He was relentless, always pushing, always waiting for you to crack.

But you refused to give in.

You knew his type—cocky, charming, a man who could ruin you without even trying. So every time he got too close, every time his voice dropped into that dangerous low murmur, you laughed it off. Pretended he didn’t make your pulse race.

Tonight, though? Tonight, you might have pushed him too far.

Because when you flirted with someone else at the bar, when you let another man’s fingers brush your arm, Josh’s entire demeanor changed.

Now, he had you cornered in a dark hallway, his hands braced against the wall on either side of you. No more teasing, no more easygoing smirk. Just dark eyes, a clenched jaw, and a heat that made your breath catch.

"You want to play hard to get?" His voice was low, almost dangerous. Not a question. A challenge.

You swallowed hard. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Josh laughed, but it wasn’t his usual playful chuckle. No, this one was low, rough—filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Right." His fingers traced your jaw, featherlight, but his gaze? Pure fire. "So you didn’t spend the whole night watching me, waiting for me to snap?"

You tried to step away, but he was faster.

One hand curled around your waist, yanking you flush against him. His breath was warm against your ear, his grip possessive, unrelenting.

"You can keep pretending, sweetheart." His lips brushed your skin, just enough to make you shiver. "But don’t get jealous when I give someone else my attention."