Instead, I turn her back to face me, fingers framing her jaw. “You think you can walk away after this?”
“I know I can,” she says, steady.
My thumb brushes her lower lip’s edge. “We’ll see.”
Her lip is soft beneath my thumb. The look in her eyes isn’t. Not seduction. Not submission. It’s a challenge.
I shouldn’t take it, but I do.
I lean in with measured calm. A kind of restraint that’s more dangerous than rushing.
My mouth stops just short of hers.
I can feel her breath, warm and steady, without any tremor.
“Last chance to walk,” I say.
Her gaze holds mine. “Last chance to send me home.”
Fuck.
And in this moment, I know I’m going to break my own rule.
My hand moves to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair.
She gives a light moan, “Don’t you dare.”
The words are a warning, but she says them like a plea.
I hold her there for a moment. And then…
I kiss her.
Not polite. Not sweet. A declaration. A test. Her lips part immediately, but not to surrender.
She meets me, presses in, and its fire in my veins.
My chest tightens. I don’t kiss women because kissing feels too intimate, too real. And this? This is already more than I can handle.
I deepen the kiss anyway.
Her hands rise to my chest. Not to push me away, just there, a point of contact. Heat radiates through the fine cotton of my shirt. I want her hands lower. I want them everywhere.
When I finally break the kiss, we’re both breathing harder.
“You broke my rule,” she says, all silky velvet.
“I like breaking rules.”
Her mouth curves slightly. “Dangerous habit.”
I let my gaze drop over her body, then back to her eyes. “Habits are for breaking, too.”
“Since we both broke the rule, who gets to dole out the consequences?”
I move in, close, fast, my hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against me. “Seems like you already know.”
She inhales, sharp but steady, as if bracing for what comes next.