“How about a truce.” I step a little closer.
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. She lets me come to her. Power play. I respect it.
“Just for tonight,” I say.
“A truce?” She lifts a brow, skeptical. “You were just shooting the shit with the guy who controls the fate of the biggest branding deal of the year. You’re here for the same reason I am. To win.”
“Rorie–” Her name tastes good in my mouth.
“We’re enemies.”
“Not necessarily.” I let my voice dip. “We could be something else.”
Her eyes narrow, unamused. “Don’t flirt your way out of this.”
“I’m not.” I shrug. “I respect you too much to lie.”
She laughs once—dry, almost disbelieving. “Rich coming from the guy who’s team took two of my clients and a prospective third.”
“We’ve been over this. That wasn’t personal.”
“Not for you,” she says, voice softer now.
And there it is.
A flash of honesty. Vulnerability wrapped in steel.
I take another slow step forward. There’s less than a foot between us now. Enough for the tension to thrum, but not enough to touch.
I look down at her. Her chin is tilted, her expression defiant, but her breathing’s changed—slightly faster, shallower.
“You know what I think?” I ask.
Her eyes challenge me. “What?”
“You’re terrified you might actually like me.”
She scoffs. “You’re arrogant enough to believe that.”
“Maybe. But I also think you’re standing here instead of walking away.”
She doesn’t deny it.
Silence crackles between us, thick and pulsing. Her gaze moves to my mouth—quick, instinctual—and back.
I want to kiss her.
What would she taste like? Rich, heady, a little spicy, just like her neck.
I move just a breath closer. Her shoulder brushes my chest.
She doesn’t back down.
Her voice drops low and sultry. “If you kiss me right now, I’ll bite.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah. You want soft or one that leaves a mark?”
