The bass thrummed through the club, vibrations running up my spine as he leaned against the bar, nursing a glass of whiskey. The air was thick with sweat, alcohol, and the desperate need for something reckless.

And then he saw you. Fuck. He almost didn't recognize you at first. He hadn't expected to see you here, his best friend's little sister, moving like you owned the damn floor.

Your older brother would have a fucking heart attack if he knew you were here, wearing that tight little dress that hugged you like a second skin, your hips rolling to the beat, completely unaware of the eyes lingering on you. His eyes.

He took another sip of whiskey, his eyes locked onto you. watching as you threw your head back in laughter with your friends. Innocent. Clueless. But not to him. He knew exactly what he was seeing—what every guy here was seeing—and fuck if it didn't make something dark curl in his chest.

Pulling out his phone, he smirked as he typed a message. Matsukawa: You look good dancing like that. Wonder how you'd look if I had my hands on you.

He watched as you pulled your phone out, your face illuminated by the screen, eyes scanning the message. You stiffened, your head snapping up as your gaze darted around the club, scanning the crowd with a panicked look. His smirk widened. Cute. So fucking cute.

By the time you turned back around, he weaved through the crowd, making his way toward you. You still hadn't spotted me when he slipped behind you, his hands finding your waist with ease.

You gasped, spinning around, wide eyes locking onto him. He leaned down, his lips just inches from your ear, voice low and teasing. "What would your brother say if he knew you were here?"