I can feel the tequila taking over control of my words but I say them anyway. "Then give me yours."
Trouble shuts his eyes, like he was hoping he didn’t just hear me say that.
"You know I can't do that," he finally says.
"Then get out of my way," I say with a tight smile, daring him to defy me. "I'm gonna go get that other cowboy hat."
I’m lying, but I take a step, and before I can complete the turn, his hand lashes out, grip tight around my wrist. He yanks me back, his words a low growl. "Try it. I dare you."
I arch a brow, voice sharp. “Are you… threatening me?”
The jerk has the nerve to grin. "Not you, sugar. The cowboy with the hat. You do that, you better swing by my truck and grab a shovel."
I frown. “Why?”
"Because," he growls, leaning closer, "he’s ending up in the ground."
I try to get free, but it's like trying to escape through a brick wall.
"At least Graham was honest about what he wants." It's a cheap shot, and by the tightening around his eyes, I know it worked.
I twist away again, determined to put distance between us, even though I know it’s a losing battle.
His eyes darken. I hit a nerve. And unfortunately, it only makes him so much hotter.
His hand trails up my back, tracing the zipper line of my dress until his hand finds my hair, wrapping it tight around his wrist. He tugs just enough to tilt my head back, exposing the vulnerable area of my throat. His breath is a whisper against my skin, and every nerve in my body snaps to attention.
"Is this what you want?" he asks, lips hovering so close that I can almost taste the whiskey-infused heat of his words.
"Yes," I breathe. Every muscle in my body tightens in anticipation. My lips part, breath hitching, impatiently waiting.
His mouth lingers at the hollow of my throat before drifting higher, each brush of air stealing what little control I have left until he reaches my ear."You aren’t ready for the things I could do to you," he murmurs, the words sweet and lethal, making me ache for the taste of him.
A whimper catches in my throat. “Stop underestimating me,” I whisper back, hating how desperate I sound.
He chuckles, and it shouldn’t be sexy—but it is. “Youthink you can handle me? I ride bulls for a living. Once I’ve had you, it’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
The words ignite me, but he still doesn’t move. He’s still an inch away, a lifetime away—and the world stops spinning.
“Then prove it,” I rasp, tilting toward him, trying to shatter the inch of space he’s holding onto.
Still nothing.
“Tristan.” I say his actual name, hoping it cuts through whatever restraint is shackling him—hoping it does something. Anything.
His gaze collides with mine, hunger and torment tangled together. For one brutal second, he tightens his grip in my hair—then he releases me. Let's go.
My stomach drops. His eyes flick away like he’s about to turn, about to leave me dangling in this hell he’s built between us. He’s going to leave me hanging… again. For the second time. The thought rips through me, and I’m already mortified and frustrated.
But then—he stops. His shoulders rise with a harsh breath, and when his eyes snap back to mine, they’re different. Unchained. I know it's over. The fight, the resistance—it’s all crumbling.
“Fuck it,” he rasps, voice ragged, like the words are torn from somewhere he can’t hold back anymore.
And that’s all the warning I get.
One step closes the distance, one hand—all strength and veined lines—snatches my hip with a heat that almost sears through the fabric of my dress. His free hand tilts my chin to the angle he wants me. Our lips crash together in a kiss that's anything but gentle—it’s explosive, a wildfire, a force of nature we unleashed.
Whiskey and something indefinably sweet clashagainst my tongue, the intoxicating taste I remember from the blind kiss. His lips are soft and powerful, a contradiction that sends my senses reeling. I bite down on his lower lip, eliciting a groan from deep in his chest—a sound that makes my core ache.
