When they finally pulled apart, Sloane heard how uneven Catherine’s breathing was, her composure shattered. Sloane’s lips tingled, and her pulse raced, the ache for more simmering just beneath the surface.
Sloane stayed close, her forehead almost brushing Catherine’s, her breath warm against her cheek. “Not so bad, was it?” she asked, grinning.
“You’re infuriating,” Catherine muttered, though the bite in her tone had softened.
“And yet, you’re still here,” Sloane replied, pulling back just enough to meet Catherine’s gaze, “and still kissing me back.”
Her grin widened, but her eyes held something deeper. “Come to dinner with me again.”
Catherine tilted her head, her sharp gaze narrowing slightly. “You’re assuming I’ll agree.”
Sloane’s confidence didn’t waver. “Am I wrong?”
Catherine hesitated, the corners of her mouth curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “I don’t shy away from risks.”
“Good,” Sloane said, brushing her fingers lightly over Catherine’s arm before stepping back completely. “Then I’ll see you soon.”
Without waiting for a reply, Sloane turned and walked away, her steps purposeful but her pulse hammering in her ears. She could feel Catherine’s eyes on her, the weight of the moment lingering like a tether pulling taut behind her. Every step away was calculated, an intentional retreat meant to leave Catherine wanting more, but the temptation to look back was almost unbearable.
The warm glow of the terrace lights embraced her as she re-entered the bustling space, the low conversations, scraping forks, and clinking glasses rushing back into her awareness. Sloane forged ahead, but her mind was still on the terrace, on Catherine. She could still feel the press of Catherine’s hands on her shoulders, the unspoken surrender in the way she’d leaned into the kiss. That was the crack Sloane had been waiting for, proof that Catherine wasn’t as impenetrable as she wanted the world to believe.
Sliding into the periphery of the crowd, Sloane leaned casually against a corner pillar, her fingers brushing her lips as if to ground herself in the memory. Her confidence was intact, she’d played the moment perfectly, but the intensity of the kiss had left her shaken in a way she hadn’t expected. She hadkissed women before—bold women, shy women—but there was something about Catherine’s restrained hunger that made it feel different. It was like touching a live wire.
“You’re either plotting something or you just kissed someone.” Dani’s voice broke through her thoughts, smooth and teasing as always.
Sloane turned her head, finding Dani standing a few feet away with a glass of wine in one hand and a raised brow that made it clear she wasn’t going to let Sloane dodge the conversation.
“Both,” Sloane replied, pushing off the pillar to face her. “But you’ll have to guess which one I’m more excited about.”
Dani stepped closer, her expression somewhere between curiosity and disbelief. She wore a fitted blazer over a sequinned tank, her usual blend of bold and effortless. She sipped her wine slowly, scrutinizing Sloane. “Don’t tell me it’s Doctor Frosty.”
“It’s Doctor Frosty,” Sloane confirmed, her grin tilting toward mischievousness.
Dani sighed, setting her glass down on a nearby ledge. “Sloane, I know you love a challenge, but this one’s got ‘complicated’ written all over it.”
Sloane tilted her head, crossing her arms loosely. “Since when have I shied away from a complication?”
“Never,” Dani shot back, leaning casually against the pillar Sloane had just vacated. “But there’s complicated, and then there’sIce Queen surgeon who probably schedules her emotions in quarterly increments.You’re playing with fire.”
“And I like the heat,” Sloane countered, though her tone softened as she spoke. She glanced toward the terrace doors again, unable to help herself. The image of Catherine standing out there alone, gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping her steady, lingered in her mind. “She didn’t push me away, Dani. Not really.”
Dani studied her for a moment, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “And that’s enough for you?”
“It’s a start,” Sloane said. “She’s not as icy as she wants everyone to believe.”
Dani snorted softly, picking up her wine again. “You’re in over your head, Bennett. But I’ll give you this, she’s got you hooked.”
Sloane didn’t deny it. Instead, she turned her gaze back toward the terrace doors, her thoughts drifting once more to Catherine. There had been a flicker of something in her, something raw and vulnerable beneath the polished control. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Sloane certain she wanted more.
“I’ve got her curious,” Sloane said finally, her voice quieter now. “And if there’s one thing I know about Catherine Harrington, it’s that she doesn’t leave questions unanswered.”
Dani smirked, raising her glass in a mock toast. “To your inevitable bruised ego when she shuts you down.”
Sloane laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll see.”
As Dani moved back into the crowd, Sloane stayed where she was for a moment longer, her fingers brushing absently against her lips again. The kiss had been more than she’d expected, and she knew Catherine felt it, too, no matter how much she might try to deny it.
With a final glance at the terrace doors, Sloane straightened and rejoined the crowd, her confidence intact but her mind still buzzing. The memory of Catherine’s kiss burned in her mind like a challenge she couldn’t wait to meet head-on.
