Reckless Kiss

“Don’t tell me what to do, Hastings.” Burt grips his wrist.

Stephen’s fist rises, and I hold my breath. I’ve never seen Stephen fight, and my heart is flying. I’m sure it’s about to go down when Ethan and a big guy appear. They corral Burt, dragging him to the right, and I take my chance, catching Stephen’s arm and pulling him into the crowd.

He stops and straightens his jacket, jaw clenched. “That asshole. I’m taking off.”

“Wait!” I gently pull his arm again. “I know where we can get a refill… away from all this.”

He hesitates a beat, then our eyes meet and his shoulders relax. I quickly lead him past everybody, waving at old friends as we weave through the crowd.

Ethan put a keg out on the terrace near the wet bar, and Stephen goes to refresh his whiskey while I step over to the corner balcony overlooking Central Park. It’s a beautiful night, and I can see the moon and a few stars. I make a quick wish.

Warmth at my side causes me to turn. He’s standing beside me in the moonlight, dark hair, blue eyes, that dimple in the side of his cheek. “So, what’s your major?”

The way he says it makes me laugh. I push a strand of long, wavy blond hair behind my ear. “Art history.”

The scene flips. He actually groans, rolling his eyes and turning his back to the railing. “Not planning to work after college?”

His disgust offends me. “I most certainly am. I want to get a job at Sotheby’s or at one of the museums downtown. Maybe something in SoHo. Or maybe I’ll move to London!”

A moment’s pause, and he slants an eye at me. “Is that so?”

“It is.” My feathers are still ruffled, and I straighten my button-up cropped top. “What will you do now that you’re out? Take a job with your dad? Have a wife in New Haven and a mistress in the city?”

Two can play the stereotypes game.

He drifts a little closer, and my pulse ticks faster. “Is that what we do?” His voice is low, and his eyes drop to my lips.

My voice is softer, higher compared to his. “Isn’t it?”

A slight grin from him, and that humming is back in my veins. “You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“It’s actually an apology. I underestimated you.”

Now it’s my turn to hesitate. Still, it’s not like I didn’t know Stephen was arrogant. It’s one of the things I love about him.

“Apology accepted.” Reaching out, I trace my finger down the front of his blazer. “Now. Wasn’t that easy? You don’t have to fight with everybody.”

Taking a chance, I put my hand on his chest. It’s firm and warm, and he covers my hand with his. It’s a gentle touch, but it radiates heat to my chest, fanning out into my belly, warming the space between my thighs. I want this so much… I’ve dreamed of it. I know if he’ll let me in, everything will change. He’ll change.

My voice is just above a whisper. “When you look at me like that, I wonder what you’re thinking.”

Our eyes hold, and I know he feels it, this pull between us. My breath stills, and I’m humming with desire.

But he throws on the brakes. “I’m thinking I’ve had enough whiskey.” His tone is level, and he releases my hand, moving away.

I have to stop him.

I can’t lose this moment.

“What do you want?” I’m sassy, flirting. “Do you even know?”

He stops, giving me the full force of his scowl. “I don’t want a wife in Connecticut, and I definitely don’t need a mistress in the city.”

Closing the distance, I put my hand on his waist this time, sliding it back and forth, working my way lower. “Maybe you need me.”

He stops my downward progress with a strong grip. “You’re playing with fire, Emmy Barton.”