The idea of her making the first move, forcing me to put my hands on her, makes my blood run hot and my palms itch to touch her silky skin.
She is beautiful, smart, and completely out of her depth. Still, I like how she fights me.
Even if she’s not doing what I want her to do.
I take a step forward. The distance between us shrinks, and I know it’s only making things more intense, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
“You can kick me out, Sienna, but it won’t change anything.” My voice softens a fraction. “Politicians are not just here to serve the people. The bakery you work at is a fuckin’ hidden operation under your nose.”
She opens her mouth, ready to throw out some righteous, wide-eyed defense of truth and justice, but I cut her off.
“Play my game, you’re safe. Reject me, and not only are you putting yourself at risk for felony charges, but you’re risking everyone around you, too.”
She pauses, and I see a tiny crack in her armor.
I step closer.
“Your grandmother?” I keep my tone level, but I see the way her fingers tighten around the towel like it’s all she’s got left to hold herself together. “She’ll be out on the street. No one’s going to cover her rent when the bank comes knocking. Your dad hasn’t paid a dime toward her care. You can’t help much when you’re rotting in a cell with decades hanging over your head.”
Sienna's jaw tenses. Her voice comes out low and clipped. “I’m not guilty.”
God, she’s stubborn.
It makes me want to drag my hands through my hair and pace the room.
But I won’t give her that power.
“Pigs don’t care if you’re guilty,” I say instead. “They’ll take down whoever makes the headlines. You’re just a means to an end. Nothing to them.”
She shakes her head slowly and stubbornly. “No. It’s called justice. We have that in the real world.”
I huff out a breath and step forward again. “That’s cute. You think this is the real world?”
She’s glaring at me now, and her chest is rising a little faster. I don't know if it's anger, or nerves, or a slow realization that the world she thought she knew just got flipped upside-down, but I know what I see.
Heat.
Flickering behind her eyes.
She takes a step back without meaning to and bumps into her dresser. She’s still gripping the towel like it’s armor, even though it barely covers the top half of her thighs. Her skin’s still damp, and I catch the faint scent of soap and something warm. Vanilla, maybe.
Sweet and too tempting.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she mutters, shifting her weight.
I cock my head innocently. “Like what?”
“Like you’ve already decided something,” she snaps, but her voice isn’t steady anymore. Her fingers curl tighter at the edge of the towel.
I take another step toward her. One more, and we’ll be chest to chest. “Maybe I have.”
Sienna swallows and blushes. “You said this wasn’t about me.”
“It’s not. But you’re standing there in a towel, looking at me like you’re waiting for a reason to run or rip my head off, and it’s hard to remember what I was talking about.”
There’s a moment where neither of us says anything. I could touch her. God, I could. One hand on her waist, and she’d either shove me into the wall or pull me closer.
Her throat bobs with a swallow. “So, what? You want me to just play house with you, look pretty at a dinner, and then what? Go back to my life like nothing happened?”
