Matthew tightened his grip around Angel's waist as they moved in sync with the rhythm of the music, the pulsing bass vibrating through the floor. The warmth of her body pressed against his, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air—a mix of something floral with a subtle edge of spice. It suited her.
Angel had always been sharp, calculating, and controlled. But here, in the dim neon glow of the club, she was something else entirely. Loose. Free. Beautiful.
She laughed softly, her breath warm against his ear. "I think I might have had one too many."
Matthew smirked, keeping her steady as she swayed slightly. "You think?"
Angel grinned up at him, her eyes glassy from the whiskey. "You're surprisingly good at this."
"At what?"
"Not being a robot."
Matthew chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."
