With a smirk of my own, I stalked toward him, my pulse pounding in time with the bass, each step fueled by a mixture of determination and defiance.

Rachel leaned in, her lips brushing against Blake’s ear as she whispered something. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He barely acknowledged her. His eyes didn’t leave mine.

I stopped just in front of him, so close that I could see the way his jaw tensed. Looking down at him, I tilted my head ever so slightly. I decided to start small. A slow, teasing sway of my hips. A slow, deliberate shift of weight.

I felt his gaze like a slow drag of heat against my skin.

Rachel stiffened, still lingering in a place she no longer belonged, her presence already an afterthought.

I moved closer, so close that I could see the way his chest rose and fell. Then I leaned down and whispered, “Send her away.”

Blake exhaled sharply, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip before finally turning to Jenna. Without a word, he reached up, took her by the waist, and gently lifted her off his lap.

I hated how easily he did it. Like she was weightless.

She let out a small noise of protest, eyes darting between us. “Are you serious?”

Blake didn’t look at her. “Yeah.”

Her mouth opened, then closed.

And then she was gone.

Blake leaned back again, stretching his arms over the couch and spreading his legs slightly. “Well?” he said slowly, tilting his head as he studied me. “I’m waiting.”

God, why did his voice sound like that?

I should have said something smart and cutting, something that would wipe that smirk off his face and put me back in control. Instead, I stepped even closer. I let my hands skim over my stomach, my fingertips grazing the smooth skin just above my waistband, drawing attention to the silver butterfly charm dangling from my belly button—the same piercing Blake had glared at earlier, as if he wanted to rip it out and destroy it.

Blake’s gaze flickered down. Then back up.

His green eyes darkened.

His smirk vanished.

His jaw flexed.

I smiled.

And then I danced like I never had before. Not the way I danced at the studio, all structured and rehearsed. Not the way I danced with Tiffany, tipsy and giggling in her room. I danced like the music was mine. Like the lyrics were mine. Like every word Brandy and Monica crooned was aimed directly at him.

He looked up at me, something unreadable flickering across his expression. But I noticed the way he tried to appear unimpressed—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, just once.

I let my lips curl into something smug. Something that said, You think you can play this game? Watch me win.

I rolled my hips to the beat. Slow. Smooth.

Blake let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his jaw.