“It’s fine,” I whisper, hating that my voice shakes.
His eyes cut up to mine. Not lust in there—it’s rage. Cold, surgical rage. “It is not fine.” He lowers the fabric back into place with a careful flick, then straightens, shoulders wide, hands fisting. “If he’d gone one inch higher, I would’ve broken his wrist.”
His eyes dart down to my thighs again and heat rushes to my face and… elsewhere.
I clear my throat. “It’s not that big of a deal, Rans—Mr. Rozanov. It’s not the first time.”
As soon as I say the words, I know they were the wrong ones. I watch his jaw tighten hard enough to crack his perfectly straight teeth.
“This has happened before?”
The cocktail of different feelings swirling around my brain has my head spinning. I shrug helplessly. “What can I say? Men are assholes.”
“Disgusting.”
I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. Part of me forgets that he is my boss, my obsession, and I rear up.
“Look, I—again, no offense,sir—but I can take care of myself. If you were anyone else?—”
He takes a step closer, close enough that his chest brushes mine. Under any other circumstances, I might have wilted. But I’m heated, too. I’m not used to being told I’m incapable, by anyone. And sexy or not, Ransome doesn’t know the first thing about my life.
“If I were anyone else,what? I dare you to finish that sentence. And keep in mind who I am as you do.”
He’s trying to scare me. And while I have to admit he’s pretty damn good at it, there’s something in me that is boiling right now.
“If you were anyone else, any other man, and you crashed my date like that, I’d slap you.”
With that, Ransome actually laughs. Well, it’s more of a throaty chortle and his lips only tip in the threat of a smirk, but if I had to guess, that’s about the extent of this man’s ability to be outwardly amused.
“I’d like to see you try.”
For a moment, I stare up at him and he stares down at me and all the hot air between our mouths is shared.
The world shrinks to this sliver of space, this knife’s edge where his breath skims mine. My pulse is frantic, desperate, like my body already knows the taste of him. His gaze flicks to my lips, back to my eyes, then down again, and my knees nearly buckle.If he closed that inch—if he took me now—I wouldn’t stop him. I couldn’t.
Something electric crackles between us, hot and dangerous, and for one impossible second, I swear he’s about to break every rule and claim me right there on the sidewalk.
But I can’t let him.
“I’m leaving,” I say at last and while there is sass shoved behind it, it’s mostly all breath.
I storm around Ransome and towards the main road. He says nothing and he doesn’t follow, but I can feel his eyes on me. Hot, angry… demanding.
My skin sizzles and my head is light and it feels like the earth lurched to a stop and then started spinning again but in the wrong direction.
Ididwant to slap him. Because fuck anyone who thinks I need to be rescued. I’ve never been rescued a day in my life.
But also, as we stood there with all our cards splayed, true colors showing, I didn’t just want to slap him.
I wanted tokisshim.
And that would have been even more dangerous.
11
RANSOME
“Ah, the high and mighty Ransome Rozanov! What a rare privilege. To what do we street rats owe the pleasure of your company?” Maverick’s blinding white grin contrasts against his tan face, which is covered in grease as he wipes his hands on a towel.
