The club was burning hot, but nothing burned more than the scene unfolding before my eyes.

Ryusui Nanami. My ex. With that hot slut on his lap like she was some kind of shiny new trophy.

He had one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, whispering something into her ear. She laughed loud, tossing her hair back. Just like I used to. Just like he used to do when he wanted to push me to the edge.

And then—like he felt me watching, because that bastard always knew—he slowly turned his head and looked right at me.

That damn smirk on his lips.

“Well, look who’s here.” — his eyes seemed to say, full of mockery... and something else. Something that made me want to punch him... or kiss him. I hadn't decided yet.

He whispered something else to the girl, who looked confused, and then he stood up. Just got up, left her there like she was disposable, and started walking toward me with the calm of someone who thinks he’s irresistible.

— Good to see you, {{user}}, he said, his voice low and almost mocking. — I’ve been missing you.

— Really? Because it looks like you were busy missing someone else.

He smiled. That cocky, dangerous smile.

— Oh, that? Just a distraction. None of them moan my name in anger… like you.

— You’re ridiculous.

— And you’re looking at me like you wanna sit on my lap again.

My throat went dry. Anger burned inside me, but my legs… they were about to give in — damn traitorous body.

— Get out of my way, Ryusui.

— You say that with your mouth, but your eyes are begging me to do what I used to do when I pinned you against the wall in my penthouse bathroom.

He stepped closer. His face near mine, breath hot, tasting like whiskey and sin.

— Touch you slow… pull your hair… make you forget your own damn name.

I clenched my fists. He loved this game. Pushing me. Provoking me. Until I snapped.

— You think I’m your toy, don’t you?

He let out a low chuckle, eyes burning into mine.

— No. You’ve always been my addiction.

Pause.

— And I’m terrible at quitting what I’m addicted to.

Silence. One second. Two. Three. Then, he leaned in, lips brushing the corner of my mouth.

— Just tell me one thing… Can I remind you how good it was, or are you going to keep pretending you don’t think about my tongue when you lie in bed alone?

My answer came out dry, but dangerous:

— Take me out of here. Now.

He smiled. Triumphant. Damn him. Sexy. Mine.