Page 8 of Off-Limits Bad Boy

And for a second - just a second - I feel bad.

The mechanism to unlock the door is simple. Alex had shown me the trick to get out on one of our drunken nights in case of emergencies. This isn't an emergency, not really; or not yet. But Emma, in that oversized jacket of mine that swallows her whole, makes the silence between us crackle with something electric.

Maybe it’s time to put an end to this whole ordeal.

“Are you just going to stand there?” Her voice has an edge, but her lip quivers - I'm not sure if it's terror, sadness, or frustration.

One thing I am learning is that she hates the cold, hates being trapped, and most of all hates needing help - especially from me.

“I mean, you could rescue us,” I say.

Her sky-blue eyes narrow as if she’s aware I’m calling her out for expecting me to solve our problem. Big, strong Em doesn’t need a man - especially me - to save her, right?

I can’t tell if it’s the cold or her growing irritation causing the red color staining her high cheekbones. But I want more than her annoyance; I realize, I want her attention, all of it, on me. How much longer can I keep these feelings of mine locked up? How long can I keep her at a distance, hating me?

At least a little bit longer.

Because she’s about to be way more angry with me.

“Come here.” I reach out and take her hand before she can protest. A spark shoots through me at the contact.

Her eyes widen and meet mine. “Kade, what—”

“Shh.” I cut her words short and pull her closer. Her body is rigid and tight against mine, but I start to sway, then take a step back, watching her match my steps with knitted eyebrows. I can’t help but smirk as her resistance falters, replaced by focus on our impromptu waltz.

“Idiot,” she says under her breath, but she follows my lead, her movements syncing with mine like she was made for this, for us dancing together in the chilly atmosphere of the walk-in.

Her curls swish around her waist as we move, and I marvel at how she turns uncertainty into grace. For someone who’s never danced like this, Emma Riley is a natural. I thought I’d embarrass her while warming her up, but I’m the one looking like a fool.

“Where’d you learn to dance?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes at me, one hand on my shoulder and the other in mine. “Just because I can dance doesn't mean I can’t kick your ass.”

“I wouldn't want you any other way,” I say, spinning her gently. There is truth in the playful statement, and I can’t deny the way her feistiness draws me in like a moth to flame.

“Kade, this is fun, but we need to find a way out.” Her amusement seems to have dried up and I can’t help but push her a little more.

“Should we?” I ask in an innocent voice, holding her gaze and hoping she can’t see the heat in mine.

Her quick retreat breaks our dance. Her hand slips from mine as if I’m suddenly scalding to the touch. I watch her eyes narrow with suspicion, a defiance flickering in the light blue depths.

“Kade, what are you doing?” I can hear her exasperation and a hint of curiosity.

“Helping you stay warm. I thought it was obvious,” I say, lifting both shoulders. The close quarters of the walk-in feel intimate and warmth floods my being as goosebumps race across her skin.

“By dancing?” She sounds like she honestly thinks I’m an idiot, but the blush spreading like wildfire across her face tells a different story.

“Body heat and exertion work wonderfully.” I step closer again, watching as she instinctively braces to dance right out of my reach again, but she hesitates and stays in place instead.

“Ugh, you're impossible.” She crosses her arms, but there is less bite in her comments now. A reluctant smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and it is all I can do not to pull her back into my arms.

Would she let me? Or push me away?

She folds her arms across her chest, the leather of my jacket creaking softly. “I'm going to kill Alex for this,” she says, more to herself than to me. “And then I'll have a crew tear this place apart. We'll make sure this kind of 'accident' doesn't happen again.” Despite her frustration, she sounds dangerously close to tears and something in me tugs.

“You’re going to kill your brother over a harmless lock-in?” I say, leaning against the chilly metal door again. “Seems a bit extreme.”

Her fiery gaze meets mine. “Extreme is being stuck in a freezer with the most infuriating guy on the planet.” Yet, even as she says the words, the fire in her eyes is playful, and as challenging as ever.

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