I let go of her hand, just enough to brush my thumb along her jaw, tracing the line that makes her impossible to forget. She tilts her head, letting me, lettingthis, happen. And I burn with it—the way she’s both defiant and yielding, how every inch of her radiates tension and longing.
“This fucking dress,” I murmur, voice low, almost a growl. “You know it’s driving me insane.”
She laughs softly, a nervous, breathy sound that twists my gut. “I wasn’t thinking about you when I made it, Matt.”
“No?” I step closer, slow, deliberate. Close enough that the heat from my body presses into hers, close enough that every shallow breath she takes brushes against my chest. “Because it feels like you did. You had to know what seeing you in this would do to me. Christ, you're a vision.”
Her eyes dart to mine, searching, warning, teasing all at once. And I can’t stop myself from leaning in, just a fraction, my lips hovering near hers. The air between us is electric, vibrating with every word left unsaid.
“You’re reckless tonight," she whispers.
“And you love it,” I counter, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. My thumb lingers against her temple, light but possessive.
She shivers at the contact, and my chest tightens in response. Every instinct in me screams to take her, to claim every inch, to walk straight into Jonathan’s office and tell him she’s mine. That no contract, no false accusations, no man alive gets to stand between us anymore.
But the part of me that’s always done the calculations—the part that knows when to wait—pulls the reins tight. The part that keeps her safe.
Not tonight.
Not yet.
But soon.
Her gaze drops to my lips. “Matt…” Her voice cracks, soft, a tremor of something I can’t name—fear, desire, maybe both.
I tilt my head, careful, teasing. “Say it.”
“Say what?” she whispers, trying to steady herself.
“That you want me,” I say, low and precise, letting the words sink between us like a promise—and a challenge. “That it’s always been us.”
She swallows hard, eyes flicking up to mine, wide and luminous. “I—”
Reaching for her as she hesitates, my fingers curl around her waist, pulling her closer so that her body slots against mine, like the missing piece to a puzzle.
Her breath catches. “Matt…”
She leans into me, just a fraction, and I can feel the war inside her—the part that wants to fight, the part that wants to surrender. And I want both. Ineedboth.
I step back just a little, enough to look down at her, drink in the curve of her jaw, the swell of her lips, the fire in her eyes. “Tell me I’m right,” I demand, my voice soft but edged with desperation. “Tell me you want me.”
Her lips part, her breath shallow, and I see it—the surrender, the longing, the heat simmering beneath the surface.
“You know I do, Matt. That’s never changed, but we can’t,” she whispers, voice trembling.
“Fuck that,” I mutter, then I kiss her.
In a second, I have her pinned to her front door. My hands on her waist, my hips flush against hers as I slant my mouth over hers. Her lips are soft and parted, and her mouth opens wider to let out a needy little whimper, surrendering completely to the kiss. Her fingers twine through my hair, sweet touches that make my body burn. Her tongue sweeps into my mouth, bringing with it a hint of wine that makes me pause for a split second.
But the second she senses my hesitation, she’s holding me closer, rising onto her tiptoes to lock her arms around my neck. In response, I drop my hands, gripping her ass. The feel of her pressed so tightly against me for the first time in too long rips a hungry groan from deep in my chest, and I’m helpless to do anything other than grind my hips against hers, seeking some kind of relief from the torture she’s causing.
There’s nothing soft or hesitant about the way she leans into my touch, kissing me back with pure fervour, a year’s worth of longing that our brief night together did nothing to dull. If anything, that hint of what could be has made the past two weeks feel like a relentless, torturous edging session, one that only now we’re finally able to let explode. Every touch, every kiss, every heated gasp that spills into the other, years of longing and restraint detonating all at once, leaving nothing between us but the raw, consuming fire we’ve been starving for.
A desperate moan vibrates in my throat as I kiss her with everything I have. My palms slide up from her ass, past her hips, skimming the sides of her breasts as I collar her throat with one hand and cup her jaw with the other. The noise she makes in response has my cock jerking against her hip.
“Fucking look at you,” I groan, my breathing laboured. “Fucking perfect. And so fucking off-limits it’s killing me, sweetheart.”
She looks up at me with hazy eyes, her pupils blown wide and her lips swollen from my kiss. “Off-limits never stopped you before,” she says, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.
