Page 33 of Sizzling Desire

He leans in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make my pulse skip. “What’s the fun in that?”

The bartender sets his drink down, and he nudges it toward me. “Here. You look like you could use this.”

“I don’t need your charity,” I say, but I take the glass anyway, my fingers brushing his as I grab it. The contact is brief, but it sends a jolt through me that I try to ignore.

“Consider it a peace offering,” he says, his tone lighter now. “Let’s call a truce, at least until we get through this planning.”

“Fine,” I say, pushing the bottle to the side hoping he doesn’t notice I’m not drinking it. “But don’t push your luck.”

We dive into the details, and to my surprise, we actually work well together. He’s quick with ideas—some good, some ridiculous—but his confidence is infectious, and before long, I find myself laughing more than I’d like to admit.His wit is sharp, his charm disarming, and the way he focuses on me, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters, is... unsettling.

“You’re not terrible at this,” I admit after we’ve hashed out the schedule. “For someone who thinks a bachelor party should involve tequila and questionable life choices.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” he says, his grin wicked. “But I have layers, Gracie. You should know that by now.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snap automatically, but there’s no heat in my voice. If anything, it comes out softer than I intended.

“Why?” he asks, his tone lower now, more serious. “It suits you.”

The air between us shifts, the playful banter giving way to something heavier. I feel it in the way his gaze lingers on me, the way his voice dips just enough to make my stomach flutter in a good way, not a pregnancy way. I look away, pretending to check my phone, but my hands are shaking, and I know he sees it.

Once we’re finished with the plans for the party, we walk out together, the cool night air wrapping around us as we step into the parking lot. The tension that’s been simmering all evening follows us, crackling like a live wire. I half expect him to say goodnight and walk off, but he doesn’t. Instead, he falls into step beside me, his presence both comforting and maddening.

“Which one’s yours?” he asks, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

I nod toward my car, and we stop in front of it. He stands there, not moving to leave, and I don’t either. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words.

“Thanks for... tonight,” I say finally, the words feeling awkward but necessary.

He smirks, leaning against my car like he belongs there. “Don’t tell me you had fun, Gracie. You might ruin your reputation.”

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch in a reluctant smile. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here we are,” he says softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

The moment stretches, the air between us charged with something I don’t want to name. His eyes drop to my lips, and I swear my heart skips a beat. For a second, I think he’s going to kiss me. For a second, Iwanthim to.

But then he steps back, his expression unreadable. “Goodnight, Gracie.”

“Goodnight,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

He walks away, his steps slow and deliberate, and I watch him until he disappears around the corner. My heart is pounding, my head spinning, and I can still feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of his presence.

I climb into my car, gripping the steering wheel like it might steady me, but it doesn’t. All I can think about is him—his smile, his laugh, the way he looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

It scares the hell out of me because for the first time, I’m not sure I want to keep fighting this pull between us.

I close the door to my apartment and lean against it, the quiet pressing around me like a weighted blanket. My heels clatter to the floor, one after the other, but I don’t move. I just stand there, my head tilted back, staring at the ceiling like it might hold the answers to the million questions swirling in my mind.

And every single one of them has his name written all over it.

Kane.

The man is like a storm—loud, reckless, and impossible to ignore. He’s always there, throwing my perfectly ordered life into chaos, yet somehow making me feel more alive than I have in years. It’s maddening. Infuriating. Completely unsettling.

I push off the door, pacing across the living room. “Why him?” I mutter to no one. “Why does it have to behim?”

I grab a glass of water, but my hands are shaking as I bring it to my lips. Tonight was supposed to be simple—just planning for the party, going through the motions, and getting it done. But of course, Kane had to turn it into something more with his teasing, his cocky grin, and those damned eyes that look at me like he sees right through every wall I’ve built.

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