3.SHE TASTES LIKE TROUBLE

RHETT

I shouldn’t have touched her.

I sure as hell shouldn’t have kissed her.

But the second I saw her—perfect lipstick, voice sharp, eyes still carrying that fire—I knew I was already in way too deep. Again.

Arden Blake was the only woman who ever brought me to my knees. And the only one who never asked me to.

Until she did.

I tried to be good. Stay away. Let her walk around this club like I wasn’t five feet away, remembering the exact sound she made when she came apart under my hands.

But good never got me anywhere. And it definitely never got me Arden.

Now I was back at my office bar, hands clenched, pacing the floor like I hadn’t just walked away from the best mistake I’d ever made.

And I could still taste her.

The subtle sweetness of her lip gloss. The way her breath caught in her throat when I pressed against her. The little sound—half gasp, half moan—that slipped out when I gripped her hips.

I know she still wants me.

That much was obvious.

But it wasn't enough. Not this time.

I was pouring a drink—something dark, something with teeth—when a knock echoed on the door.

I turned.

And there she was.

Framed by the hallway light like a goddamn vision I hadn’t earned.

She walked in like she owned the place. But I saw the flicker in her eyes—the hesitation, the heat.

“Nice office,” she said coolly. “Compensating for something?”

I smirked. “You tell me. You’ve had your hands all over it.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she stepped closer.

Close enough that I could see the rise and fall of her chest.

Close enough to make me forget how to breathe.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said.

“But you are.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” she said, rolling her eyes.

I took a slow sip of my drink and let the silence settle. Let her squirm a little. Arden hated when I didn’t bite back.

She walked to the window, arms folded, back stiff. “We have to work together.”

“Is that what this is?” I asked, voice low. “Work?”

She turned, and for the first time, I saw it—the crack of a smile in her armor. Just a flash. But enough.

“I don’t know what this is,” she admitted.

So I crossed the space between us, slow and deliberate.

When I reached her, I cupped her jaw in one hand and dragged my thumb across her bottom lip.

“I do,” I murmured.

She exhaled, a trembling breath that told me everything.

I kissed her again.

This time, she didn’t hesitate.

Her arms locked around my neck, her body pressed tight against mine. There was no slow buildup—no testing limits. Just fire. Fast. Hot. Desperate.

I lifted her onto the edge of the desk, hands gripping her thighs, sliding under the hem of her dress. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and she arched into me like she remembered every inch.

Her mouth was wild, open, needy, and her tongue was brushing mine like it was a promise she couldn’t keep.

She pulled away, “I hate you,” she whispered against my lips.

“Lie better,” I growled, biting gently at her jaw.

Her head dropped back, exposing her throat.

I kissed my way down, letting my hands roam—just enough to make her breath catch, not enough to take what I wanted.

Not yet.

“I could have you right now,” I said. “Right here.”

She shivered. “Then why don’t you?”

I leaned in, lips brushing her ear.

“Because this time, you’re going to beg.”