“My motivations are none of your business.”
She white-knuckles the armrests again, her nostrils flaring before she laughs. “You’re right; they are inconsequential. You’re here for three months only.”
She stands up. Her chair scrapes loudly, slicing through the tension like a blade. “Are we done?”
Cal nods, and she whips around so fast, a breeze reaches me. Her scent—lavender, with something sharp underneath—floats to me, still soft and intoxicating like I, unfortunately, remember from the sex club.
Blood rushes to my pants as I stand up, following her to the door.
“I hope you can play nice, kids.” Cal chuckles.
I decide against punching him. I will find a way to get my point across later.
Now I need to catch up with Little Thunder.
Why? That’s beyond me.
I’m barely outside Cal’s office when Roxy turns around, practically colliding with me.
Even with her tiny frame, she almost barrels me through the door I’ve just closed.
Cal’s assistant isn’t at her desk, and I briefly wonder if Roxy is counting on no witnesses and taking her chance to dismember me.
“Listen to me, Stone, I don’t, for one second, believe you’re truly interested in working here.” She jabs my chest with her finger. “Whatever your motivation, go find yourself another adventure.”
She is not wrong in her assessment. Unfortunately for her, this is exactly the adventure I’m seeking. I’ve been waiting for ten years to get closer to avenging my friend Noah, and I’m not giving up now.
Not even for a woman who… is getting under my skin. And not in the worst way.
I lean down, my lips near her ear. Not the best move, given the effect her scent or closeness has on my self-control. The last thing I need is walking around with a boner.
But her little shudder at my proximity feeds the worst parts of me.
“I already found my adventure.” My breath ghosts across her neck, and she stiffens. “It’s right here. So dull your claws, sweetheart. I may not have cared much before, but your tantrums, Little Thunder… just made me doubly interested in winning this partnership.”
Her breathing quickens, but she steels her spine. “You sweetheart me one more time, and instead of a partnership, you’ll be losing a harassment lawsuit.”
Our faces are close enough that I can count her eyelashes. We pant like we’re doing more than trading insults.
With the worst timing ever, my gaze drops to her lips. I might have a very intimate knowledge of this woman, but I’ve never kissed her. That’s not what our night was.
Her lips are full and slightly apart, and I can almost feel them when I imagine my tongue trailing the seam.
And because I apparently lost my mind, or I want to find out how serious her harassment suit threat was, my hand moves of its own accord, and my thumb dusts over her bottom lip.
Her breath hitches, and her cheeks bloom pink.
I drag my thumb slowly across her mouth, and a blast of arousal punches me so hard I almost sway.
We freeze.
Time, space, and our differences evaporate. The air between us thickens, turns molten. She parts her lips, inviting.
And for a split second, I forget everything.
The competition.
The stakes.
