Page 97 of The Ruthless Rivalry

“Ambiance, huh?” he purred, his voice a smooth, intoxicating mix of sarcasm and something darker. “Is that what we’re calling this thing between us now?”

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut for a moment, focusing on the wooden door behind me, willing it to anchor me. I had to stop this. I couldn’t let him make me crack. I wouldn’t.

But then I felt it again—his body so close, his breath so warm, the faint trace of cigarette smoke lingering on his lips. The pull was undeniable, like gravity drawing me in, and the heat between us only grew more intense. My body betrayed me as I fought the instinct to lean into him. To let go.

Bishop’s chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pressed forward, impossibly close now. I could feel every inch of him against me—his strength, his heat, his presence consuming me.

He pulled back just enough to watch me, his eyes flicking down to where the rain-soaked fabric clung to my skin. “You’re soaked…” he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my neck, sending a jolt of heat straight through me. The smile on his lips was wicked, and I could feel his gaze lingering, knowing he wasn’t just talking about the rain.

I fought it. I had to.

I swallowed, my heart thundering in my chest. Every part of me screamed to push him away, to fight this undeniable pull between us. But it was useless. Bishop Ashbourne wasn’t just a threat; he was temptation in its purest form, wrapped in arrogance and sharp edges. And for some stupid reason, I wanted him. Craved him.

He stood there, waiting, like he already knew what was about to happen. There was a quiet confidence in the way he held himself, a subtle arrogance that made my pulse race even harder.

The fire in his gaze was almost tangible. Something about it—a mix of command and vulnerability—set me on edge.

My fingers itched to touch him, to pull him closer, but I stayed rooted, gripping the doorframe to remind myself I was still in control.

Without warning, his lips slammed into mine—raw, urgent, desperate—as though he couldn’t hold back any longer. The kiss was ferocious, demanding, and I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His hand found the back of my neck, pulling me into him so hard I thought I might collapse under the weight of it. I could taste the bitter remnants of his cigarette on his tongue, sharp and intoxicating, and everything I knew I shouldn’t want…I couldn’t resist.

Just as I thought I couldn’t take any more, he pulled back—just enough to leave me gasping, his lips curling into that smug smile I hated, yet somehow found too irresistible, like he was about to walk away again.

But this time I wasn’t going to let him.

With a fierce tug, I yanked him back, my lips crashing into his, uncaring of the consequences.

Chapter 21

Alex

Igrabbed his shirt, yanking him toward me with a fierceness I didn’t even know I had. His growl vibrated through me, but it only made me want him more.

I kissed him harder, my own need flaring, the fire between us igniting into something reckless, something dangerous. His other hand moved, sliding to my waist, and he pressed me closer, his chest solid against mine, every inch of him calling to me. The heat between us was suffocating, but I didn’t care.

I felt his fingers brush the small of my back, and then, without breaking the kiss, he reached around me, fumbling for the door. His breath was ragged against my lips, and I could barely keepup with the rhythm of his movements. He found the handle and turned it with one smooth motion, pushing the door open just enough for us to step inside.

The moment we were through, he kicked the door closed with his foot, his hands already pushing under my shirt, his lips trailing down to my neck. I gasped, every nerve in my body alight, but I couldn’t stop him, couldn’t stop myself. He was here,wewere here, and nothing else mattered.

In the dim light of the room, I felt the weight of him pressing into me, surrounding me, making everything outside of this moment disappear. The kiss deepened, if that was even possible, as he backed me up, walking us toward my bathroom, his body towering over mine, his hands pulling me closer, like he was trying to fuse us together.

I could feel his pulse against my fingertips as they slid up his chest, but he didn’t slow down. He was desperate, driven by something I couldn’t name—and I didn’t want to. Not now. Not when his hands were everywhere, and the world outside didn’t exist.

We were both lost, engulfed in the fire, and I had no intention of finding my way out.

His hand slid to the shower handle, and with one smooth motion, he twisted it on. The sound of falling water filled the room, steam beginning to curl in the air, making the space between us even more suffocating. But he didn’t look at me—didn’t need to. He was already leading, already taking, and I was following, helpless to do anything else.

There was no question. No waiting. He was in control.

He stepped into the stream first, his broad shoulders flexing as the water hit him. His body moved with such assurance. The heat of the water mixed with the heat between us, and it felt like every inch of him was already burned into me.

His hands roamed over me, pulling at the damp fabric clinging to my skin. With a swift, practiced motion, he tugged my shirt over my head, leaving me exposed to the heat of the water and the weight of his gaze. His eyes flickered over me, a hint of amusement mixed with desire.

My shirt dropped to the floor, his hands were already on my jeans. He undid the button and pulled the zipper down with a single motion, his fingers skimming over my skin as he let the fabric fall to my ankles.

I stepped out of them, heart thundering in my chest as I tugged at his shirt. He let me, standing still for just a moment, watching me as I pulled it over his head. His chest was just as I imagined—strong, toned, each muscle defined in the dim light. I could feel my breath hitch as I ran my hands over his skin, the heat of him only intensifying under the spray of the shower.

My shadow’s eyes darkened further, his hands moving to undo his pants, but not fully. Just enough. It was a deliberate tease, slow and calculated, making me ache for more.

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