“This was supposed to be business,” she whispers.
“I know that.”
“We had boundaries we agreed to.”
“I know that too.”
“So why does it feel like we’re crossing them right now?”
“Because we are crossing them.”
I move before I can think about the consequences. My hand finds Bailey’s waist. She gasps softly but doesn’t pull away from me.
“We should go back inside,” she says. But she’s not moving.
“We definitely should.”
“People will notice we’re gone.”
“Let them notice.”
Her hands come up to rest on my chest. I don’t know if she’s pulling me away or closer.
“This is a terrible idea,” she breathes.
“It’s the worst.”
“We agreed to nothing physical.”
“We did agree to that.”
“So we should stop this right now.”
“We absolutely should.”
But neither of us moves away.
“Tell me to stop,” I say quietly. “Tell me this is just business, and I’ll walk away right now.”
Her eyes search mine intently. “I can’t,” she whispers. “I can’t tell you that.”
That’s all I need to hear.
I close the remaining distance between us. My mouth finds hers and she responds instantly with a sound low in her throat that goes straight through me. Fuck appearances, this is every night I’ve spent trying not to think about her, every moment I’ve forced myself to look away.
It’s desperate and consuming.
Her hands fist in my jacket, pulling me closer like she can’t get enough. I slide my fingers into her hair, feeling the soft strands wraparound them as I back her against the wall. She arches into me, her body fitting against mine too perfectly.
When her lips part, I deepen the kiss. She tastes like champagne and something sweeter, something that’s just her. My hand drops to her waist, then lower, fingers pressing into her hip, her ass, memorizing every curve through the silk of her dress.
She gasps my name against my mouth and my knees nearly give out.
I press closer, one hand braced against the wall beside her head, the other still gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks. She hooks one leg around mine, and the friction makes us both groan.
Then footsteps echo on the terrace behind us, and reality slams back.
We break apart from each other, both breathing hard. Bailey’s lipstick is smudged across her mouth, and my hair is disheveled from her fingers.
