I grit out, “That’s not it.”
Her brows lift sharply. “Then what is it, Ben?” Her voice rises, brittle with frustration. “Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a man throwing his weight around just to prove he still can.”
“I’m not—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“You don’t get to bulldoze your way back into my life and pretend this is about business. You don’t get to play puppeteer while the rest of us struggle to stay afloat.”
“I’m not trying to control you,” I snap, jaw clenched.
“Then what are you trying to do?” she fires back, eyes blazing now. “Punish me? Test me? Remind me that you’re the one with all the power now?”
We’re toe to toe, the air between us crackling with heat, with resentment, with something so raw it makes my skin prickle. Her voice lowers, trembling with something deeper. “You left, Ben. You walked away. So why are you here trying to destroy the one thing I have left?”
She shoves at my chest, a sharp, frustrated motion. “This is all just a game isn’t it?”
Just like that, we’re too close. I catch her wrist before she can pull away.
“No!” she snaps, trying to yank free. “No—you don’t get to come back and do this. You don’t get to tear everything apartand then act like—”
But I don’t let her finish.
Something in me snaps.
I grab her, pulling her in, crushing my mouth to hers before she can get another word out.
It’s not gentle. It’s raw and reckless and years too late.
She gasps, fists slamming into my chest, but she doesn’t push me away. Not really. Her hands curl in my shirt instead, like she’s fighting herself more than me. Like she’s just as furious, just as lost in this as I am.
My arm wraps around her waist, yanking her closer. I kiss her harder, deeper, like I’m trying to burn every second of distance between us.
She tastes like everything I used to want. Everything I still do and when she kisses me back—wild, unfiltered, nails digging into my skin. I know I’ve already lost whatever control I was clinging to. I slide my hand into her hair, tilting her head to take her deeper, drinking in every sound she makes, every trembling breath, every stifled moan, every trace of the girl I used to know and the woman she’s become.
I can’t stop.
I don’t want to.
I press her back against the door, swallowing every sharp breath, every ragged gasp.
This. This is what I wanted.
Not the cafe. Not the fucking buyout. Her.
She pulls back suddenly, panting, her pupils blown wide and then?
She shoves me. Hard.
I stumble back half a step, my own chest heaving. She takes a step back, chest rising and falling too fast, fingers twitching ather sides like she wants to reach for something, steady herself, maybe. But there’s nothing to hold on to. Nothing except the one thing she doesn’t trust. She drags the back of her hand over her mouth, like she can wipe away the taste of me. Like she needs to and that’s when I see it.
She’s not just furious at me.
She’s furious at herself.
Because she wanted it too.
“What the hell was that?” she breathes, her voice shaking.
I take a slow step forward, hands twitching at my sides, my body still burning with the feel of her. She watches me warily, dark eyes flashing, her breath uneven.
