Page 49 of Falling for the Grumpy Bad Boy

17

RHETT

It had to be close to three in the morning, maybe four. I stopped checking the time hours ago when I’d realized that nothing about this evening was following any reasonable schedule. But sitting here on my balcony, watching Clementine settle into my hot tub wearing nothing but black lace that left very little to the imagination, time felt like an abstract concept anyway.

Are you only brave in the kitchen?

The challenge hung in the warm Miami air between us. I had a choice to make. I could make some excuse about needing to get to sleep. That would allow me to maintain the professional distance that had served me well for years. I could be the responsible adult in the situation and recognize that we were both tipsy and making decisions we would probably regret in the morning.

Or I could stop overthinking everything and join the most fascinating woman I had met in years in a hot tub at four in the morning. It wasn’t like she had offered sex. I had sat in plenty of hot tubs with plenty of women and not fucked them.

Well, not all of them.

The champagne made the choice for me.

I stood up, my hands going to the buttons of my shirt. Clementine’s eyes tracked the movement. I could see the satisfaction in her expression as I shrugged out of it and tossed it onto my chair. My pants and socks followed, leaving me in just my boxer briefs. Because she had been so generous to give me a good ten seconds to look my fill, I did the same for her.

And the way she was looking at me made me feel like I was on the menu.

I stepped into the bubbling water. The heat was immediately overwhelming, or maybe that was just the effect of being this close to Clementine with so little between us. I took the seat across from her, but the hot tub wasn’t exactly spacious. Our legs brushed under the water. Even that small contact sent electricity shooting through my system.

“See?” she said, her voice slightly breathless. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“The jury’s still out,” I replied, though I had to admit the hot water felt incredible after the long day and evening of dancing.

She laughed. “You know, for someone who takes so many risks in the kitchen, you’re surprisingly cautious everywhere else.”

“Calculated risks,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”

“Is there? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re afraid to take any risks that really matter.”

The champagne had definitely gone to her head. There was a boldness to her words, a directness that probably wouldn’t have been there if she’d been completely sober. But then again, I wasn’t exactly sober either, and the combination of alcohol and her proximity was making it very difficult to remember why maintaining professional boundaries had seemed so important.

“Maybe I just know the difference between risks worth taking and mistakes waiting to happen,” I said.

I watched water droplets slide down her collarbone. And fuck me, I wanted to lick them off.

She leaned forward, closing some of the distance between us. “And which category do I fall into?”

That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Because looking at her now, I honestly couldn’t say. All I knew was that every instinct I had was telling me to close the remaining distance between us and find out what would happen.

We had already kissed earlier. Wouldn’t it be okay to do a little more kissing? It was all the same sin. It didn’t get more sinful.

“I’m still deciding,” I said, my voice coming out rough.

She smiled at that, a slow curve of her lips that made my chest tighten. “Well, let me know when you figure it out.”

She sat back in her seat. Her toes grazed across my shin and then my calf. She was playing with fire.

The next hour passed in a haze of champagne and conversation. The chemistry was electric. Sitting together in our underwear felt risky. We talked about everything and nothing. But underneath every word was the awareness of how little we were wearing. It would be so easy to let this evening take its natural course.

At some point, she moved closer. Her thigh pressed against mine. “Rhett.”

The way she said my name felt like she had physically stroked me.

“Yeah?”

“I had a really good time tonight.”