Page 134 of The Fine Line
“What do you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know. Were you just gonna pretend it neverhappened?”
“Lots of things seem to happen between you and women in and outside of bathrooms,” she says coolly. “Doesn’t exactly warrant a conversation.”
My jaw shifts to the side. “Stone cold, Cub.”
“Am I wrong?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You are.”
She starts to slide off the counter, but I catch her—hands hooking under her thighs—holding her in place.
“Let me down.”
Instead, I press forward, shifting her back until she’s flush against the wall.
“I want down. Now.” She shoves at me, slaps my chest. “Dammit, Rhett. Listen to me.”
“Oh, I hear you loud and clear, baby.”
I lean in, voice low and sure.
“You want to get off.”
Her eyes blaze, and my lips curve—something between a smirk and a promise.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I’ll let you.”
Her cheeks flush, betraying her.
“Rhett,” she hisses. “What do you want?”
“You really want to know?” I ask, sliding a hand to her jaw, thumb grazing her cheek as I guide her to look at me. “What I want—what I’ve been dreaming about—is for another storm to roll through Texas.”
Her brows pull together.
I shift my thumb to trace her bottom lip. “You know why?”
Her voice wavers. “Why?”
I meet her heavy-lidded eyes as my hands drop to her waist. “So I can finally find out if it was just fear that makes you wet.” I lean in until I feel her breath on my skin. “Or if it was me.”
I feel her body tense. Then, a tiny, involuntary sound escapes her lips.
“And if I’m being greedy…” I let my fingers glide down her thigh, “I’d really love a warm shower again sometime soon. Lately, I’ve been stuck taking cold ones. Trying like hell not to picture you writhing under me. Trying not to imagine finishing what you started.”
I drag my gaze back to hers. “Trying not to fantasize about laying you out on every surface in this goddamn apartment and making an absolute mess of you. Watching you come undone.”
Her eyes dart over my face, her chest rising with every breath. Then she laughs softly, leaning in, voice of an angel and eyes of a siren.
“You could never make a mess of me.”
I tilt my head.
“Wanna bet?”
Her expression flickers—only for a moment. Then she steels herself. “Well, it wouldn’t be a fair bet.”
