Page 114 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

“Can we talk first?”

There was a part of me that said I needed to separate us. I was struggling to keep my hands to myself. I was desperate to touch her. The back of the limo felt way too small.

“Sure,” I said and put my phone on the small bar surface.

She took a shaky breath. “For what it’s worth, this really was a wonderful month. I learned so much from you, Rhett. I’m grateful I had the opportunity and all the experiences with you. The cooking ones aside.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Aside from the cooking, huh?”

“You know what I mean.”

I did know. I knew exactly what she meant, and it made this whole thing so much worse. We had chemistry that was combustible.

“Can I ask you something?” I said.

“Of course.”

“If the media wasn’t involved, and the sponsors hadn’t pulled out, if none of that external bullshit existed, would you give this a shot?”

She was quiet for a long moment. I watched her expression. I tried to read her but it was impossible. Finally, she gave a slight nod.

That small movement hit me harder than anything she could have said. It was the slightest glimmer of hope.

“One last kiss?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Before it’s over?”

She put her glass in one of the cup holders. I did the same.

She moved toward me, climbing into the seat where I was. When our lips met, it was like coming home and saying goodbye at the same time. The taste of the drink on her lips and tongue made me groan.

Her hands fisted in my sweater, pulling me closer. I forgot about everything else. The media and the sponsors could fuck off. Her father’s disapproval didn’t mean shit. There was just Clementine, soft and warm and kissing me like she was drowning and I was air.

“Rhett,” she whispered against my mouth. The way she said my name broke something open inside my chest.

“I know,” I said because I did know. I knew this was goodbye, and I knew it was killing both of us. I knew we were about to do something that would make it so much harder to walk away.

But I also knew I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t have this moment with her.

I slid my mouth from hers and over her jaw. She made the softest sound when I kissed the curve of her neck. The partition between us and the driver’s seat was up, the windows tinted dark just in case Phil did return. For just this moment we could pretend the outside world didn’t exist.

“Are you sure?” I asked, even as my hands mapped the familiar territory of her body.

“I’m sure,” she breathed. “One last time.”

I kissed her with everything I had, pouring all of my want and frustration into the connection between us. Her lips were soft and warm, tasting of pomegranate and something uniquely her. When she made that small sound in the back of her throat—the one that had driven me crazy in Chicago—I lost what little control I’d been clinging to.

My hands moved to her waist and pulled her into my lap.

“God, I want this,” I murmured against her mouth, my voice rough with need.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp. The touch sent electricity straight down my spine. “Me too,” she whispered back.

I traced the line of her jaw with my lips and then back to that spot under her ear. Her pulse was racing under my tongue. Everything about her response told me she wanted this as much as I did, consequences be damned.

“We shouldn’t,” she said, but her actions contradicted her words as she tilted her head to give me better access to her neck.

“Probably not,” I agreed, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. This was our goodbye, and I was going to memorize every second of it.