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“That’s not attractive.”
“Liar.”
I hate how quickly my body betrays me around him.
Because he’s right.
Every inch of me reacts to him instantly now, my pulse jumping the second he gets close, my breathing turning uneven whenever his hands settle on me like they belong there.
Like I belong there.
That thought should scare me more than it does.
Rhett pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and focused in a way that nearly steals the air from my lungs completely.
“There she is,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“That look.”
I try to glare at him. “You’re annoyingly observant.”
“You’re flushed.”
“It’s warm in here.”
“You’re gripping my shirt hard enough to wrinkle it.”
My hands loosen automatically.
Rhett catches both wrists immediately, pinning them lightly against his chest before I can pull away completely.
“Didn’t say stop.”
Heat flashes across my skin so fast it’s humiliating.
The power dynamic between us shifts constantly, not because he forces it, but because he notices everything. Every reaction. Every hesitation. Every tiny crack in my composure.
And somehow that makes me want to push him harder.
“You always this bossy?” I ask.
“Only with you.”
“That doesn’t concern you at all?”
His gaze drifts over my face slowly. “Not even a little.”
The honesty in that answer hits harder than it should.
Nobody’s ever wanted me this openly before.
Men have wanted pieces of me. The smart mouth. The ambition. The challenge. But Rhett looks at me like he wants all of it, every difficult, guarded, sharp-edged part I usually keep locked down tight.
It’s terrifying.
It’s intoxicating.
