Page 44 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

15

RHETT

What the hell was I doing?

The question screamed through my mind even as I deepened the kiss. Clementine’s response to the kiss made every rational thought scatter like leaves in blustery fall day. This was exactly the kind of mistake I swore to avoid on this tour. This was the definition of a distraction, the very thing that could derail everything I worked for.

I was kissing Desman’s daughter. The benefactor. The woman whose family had started this entire operation. Desman’s influence could make or break not just this tour but my entire career. One wrong move and I would be finished. I would never recover from the bad press.

The smart thing would be to pull back, apologize, chalk it up to too much alcohol. I could make some excuse about getting caught up in the moment, laugh it off, and retreat to the safe professional distance we had maintained up until tonight.

But God, I wanted her. Had been wanting her since I spotted her at that first dinner. And then when she rolled up her sleeves and proved she wasn’t just some rich princess playing at being a chef.

Her kiss was so uniquely her. Confident but vulnerable, sweet but with an underlying heat that promised so much more. Her soft moan and tongue slashing against mine nearly undid me. She looked sweet and innocent, but fuck me, she kissed like her life depended on it.

The age difference nagged at the back of my mind. She had to be at least ten years younger than my thirty-four, maybe more. Young enough that she probably didn’t fully understand the complexities of what something between us could mean. She would have no idea the professional landmines we would be walking through. She was young enough that her family would have very strong opinions about her getting involved with someone like me.

But even as the thoughts raced through my consciousness, my body was responding to the way her hands moved up my chest. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging my face closer to hers. My arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. Her boobs pushed against my hard chest, soft and enticing.

I knew women’s bodies and Clementine’s was Grade A.

Not too skinny. Meat on her bones that would be very soft and supple when I sank into her.

It was madness. Fucking her would be career suicide.

“Hey! Get a room!”

The catcall came from across the street, followed by crude laughter and what sounded like a bottle breaking against concrete. The spell shattered instantly, reality crashing back in.

I lifted my head, suddenly hyperaware of our surroundings. We were standing on a dark Miami street corner after midnight. The group of men across the way were clearly drunk and getting more vocal by the second. One of them started making kissing noises while another shouted something that definitely wasn’t a compliment.

I was pretty sure it was directed at Clementine.

Miami wasn’t exactly dangerous, but it wasn’t the safest place for two people who’d been drinking to be standing around looking vulnerable either. Especially not when one of them was a beautiful woman who was already drawing too much attention.

That little dress she was wearing was great to look at, but it made her look too good. A temptation that even a man like me couldn’t resist.

“We should go,” I said quietly, my hand finding the small of her back as I guided her away from the street corner. “This isn’t the safest neighborhood after midnight.”

Clementine nodded and stayed close to my side as we walked. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she kept glancing over her shoulder at the men who were still making comments. My jaw clenched as I caught fragments of what they were saying. Nothing that required a response, but enough to make my protective instincts flare to life.

I had grown up in neighborhoods where you learned early how to read a situation. You figured out pretty quickly when to walk away and when to stand your ground. These guys were just drunk and stupid, not actually dangerous, but that didn’t mean I was taking any chances with Clementine’s safety.

I found myself unconsciously shifting into a more protective stance. It was pure instinct.

The realization that she mattered to me hit like a physical blow. When had that happened? When had Clementine Hartley stopped being just a colleague and become someone I genuinely cared about protecting?

I supposed I had already tried protecting her from Chef Hwan. She just awoke those kinds of feelings in me, making me want to keep her safe in a dangerous world.

The hotel was up ahead of us, its bright lobby visible through the glass doors. I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders as we approached, though I kept my awareness tuned to our surroundings until we were safely inside.

The lobby was mostly empty except for the night desk clerk and a few late-arriving guests. Relief flooded over me. I realized how keyed up I had been from the combination of alcohol, adrenaline, and whatever had been building between us all evening.

We rode the elevator in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, there was a charged quality to the quiet, an awareness of everything that had just happened and everything that might happen next. Clementine stood close enough that I could smell her perfume, could see the way her chest rose and fell with each breath.

It was stupid. I was actually having an inner debate about taking her to bed.

I knew I couldn’t. No way. I was not going to do it. We had a momentary lapse in judgment. It was over. I would walk her to her door and then take my ass to bed—alone. I had no idea what she was thinking. Did she want sex?