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thirty

RHETT

She’s so fucking close I can taste her.

I never imagined there’d be a single situation in this world where I could do something—anything—to help Caroline Barrett. Much less two.

But here we are again. And it’s taking me straight back to that plane.

I know she’s thinking about it too.

She’s built a whole life on controlling how people see her, on mastering the art of composure. But unfortunately for her, she’s up against someone who knows a thing or two about fronts. And I’m learning her tells more and more every day.

The way she pulls herself upright, shoulders back like armor. How she opens her eyes wider, like she’s trying to hide the weight in them. And when she’s really trying not to react—the way she chews on the inside of her bottom lip.

Just like she’s doing right now.

My gaze drops to her mouth, and the words tumble out before I can stop them.

“Cub, we need to talk.”

“You’re right.” Her voice is soft. She clears her throat and drops her eyes. “I’m sorry about the wine glass.”

“What?”

“The one I broke. It was from your set. I shouldn’t have used your things.”

“Cub—”

“I’ll clean it up,” she says. “And I’ll replace it?—”

“I don’t give a shit about the wine glass.”

And I know she knows that.

Still, she glances up, unsure. Then back down. “Then what’s wrong?”

She’s nervous.

I’m making her nervous.

“I never said anything was wrong.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Cub,” I say, lowering my head to force her eyes back to mine. “You know.”

Her lips part, but she shakes her head. “No. I don’t.”

I don’t answer. Not right away.

Her breath catches. She shifts like she’s going to move—then actually tries. Tries to hop off the counter.

“Something happened between us.”

I keep my voice low, even though everything in me is burning.

“On that plane.”

She freezes.

Then lets out a laugh through her nose—one of those fake, deflecting ones. Classic Caroline.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” My eyes narrow. “And you don’t have anything to say about that?”

“What do you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know. Were you just gonna pretend it never happened?”

“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.”

I pull back slightly, arching a brow.

“You’d automatically lose,” she says. “Because it can’t happen. We have rules. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“You better. You agreed to them.”

I nod slowly. “I did.”

“So we have nothing more to discuss?—”

“I said I wouldn’t lay a finger on you.”

She lifts her chin. “Exactly.”

“But here’s the thing, Cub…” I lean in, lips grazing her ear. “I don’t need to.”

She stiffens, goosebumps rising across her neck.

“I could make you fall apart without ever touching you.”

She tilts her head, defiant. “You think you’ve got women all figured out, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say, eyes steady. “But you? You’re different.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Keep lying to yourself, Baby Bear.” I pull her hands gently into mine. “I see right through you. Just like you see through me.”

Her lips press together, and for a second, neither of us breathes.

Then I drop her hands and take a step back. She shifts, nearly slipping off the counter, catching herself fast. She scowls, like she expected me to keep going. I lean against the wall opposite her, arms crossed, not saying a word.

After a few beats, she pushes off the counter.

“Don’t.”

She pauses. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re gonna stay right there.”

She scoffs. “Why would I do that?”

I let my arms drop as I approach her again, slow and deliberate.

“Because I’m not finished.”

“What the—” she starts, but I step in close and press my palm flat to the mirror beside her head—not touching her, just close enough to feel the air shift.

She draws back slightly, lips parted.

“You’re always in control,” I whisper. “Every move, every word. Always calculating. Composed. People see you as unshakable—untouchable. And you love that, don’t you? Being the one with all the answers that answers to no one. The one holding the power.”

She doesn’t respond, but her breath hitches.

“Tell me.”

“Yes,” she admits .

“Well, you want to know what I think?”

I take her jaw clenching as a yes.

“I think,” I say, voice low and steady, “deep down, you’re starving for someone who can strip all that away. Someone who makes you forget how to hold it together.”

I lift a hand, not quite touching her cheek, but close enough that she can feel the heat. Her skin flushes beneath the suggestion alone.

“You never answered me,” I say, planting both hands on the counter beside her thighs, caging her in.

“Was it the fear that made you wet…or was it me?”

She steels her spine.

“Personally,” I say, “I think it was both.”

She swallows hard.

“You say I don’t know you,” I go on. “But I do. I know that being scared turns you on… and that letting go terrifies you.”

I pause. Let it settle.

“That’s why I scare you. Because you know I can make you lose control.”

I watch her—watch the shift in her eyes. The surrender.

“Now, be a good girl,” I mutter, stepping back. “Don’t move.”

I start to turn toward the door, but catch her in my peripheral as she starts to close her legs.

“I said don’t.”

She glares at me. But slowly—deliberately—spreads her legs again.

“Stay just like that.”

Then I walk out.

I head into my bedroom and grab the footstool from in front of the reading chair.

When I return, Caroline hasn’t moved.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck you. ”

My lips twitch. “Is that what you want?”

Her eyes narrow.

“Maybe it’s you who needs a reminder of our house rules,” I say, stepping closer. “No sex.”

“Correct—”

“Unless you ask me for it.”

Her spine stiffens. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“We’ll see.”

She bites down on the inside of her cheek, her jaw tight as my eyes travel down the length of her.

“How wet are you right now?”

Her head snaps up. “What?”

“Show me.”

“I’m not going to?—”

“I said,” I cut in, dragging the stool across the tile with a low scrape before sitting down, “show me.”

Her back goes ramrod straight.

I lift my chin once. Push her without touching her.

She exhales sharply, glaring at me—then slowly spreads her legs. The slit in her dress falls away, revealing a tiny white thong, silky and edged in lace.

It’s soaked.

So soaked it’s nearly transparent.

My breath catches.

I drag a hand over my mouth, then look up at her. “Now,” I mutter, “tell me more about that line.”

“What line?”

“The one between hate and love. Tell me, Cub. How fine is it, really?”

She drops her gaze. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No?” I arch a brow. “So you say things you don’t mean?”

She glances away. “It just felt like the right thing to say at the time—to keep up our act. ”

“Our act.” I hum. “So all performances aside, what does that line really look like?”

“For us?”

“For you.”

She exhales through her nose, lifting her chin. “Extra bold,” she says. “I don’t think you could even call it a line. A wall, maybe. A great brick one.”

“You’re saying you hate me.”

“Yes.”

I lean in slightly. “Is this one of those things you don’t mean?”

She doesn’t blink. “I mean it.”

“Then tell me why you’re so wet.”

My eyes lock on hers.

She doesn’t speak, her chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths.

“Pull it to the side.”

Her brows raise. “What?”

“Pull your pretty little panties to the side and show me what I’ve done to you.” I pause, smirk slowly. “Or I’ll rip them off.”

“You said you wouldn’t lay a finger on me.”

“I have teeth.”

That flush creeps up her cheeks again.

“Come on,” I coax. “Let me see.”

She slides the fabric aside. It clings for a second—then peels away, revealing soft, glistening skin. She pulses when the air hits her, a silent confession her mouth refuses to give.

I bite down on my knuckle, dragging it slow across my lips.

“God,” I breathe. “Look at you. Practically dripping. Wanna try telling me again how much you hate me?”

Her eyes narrow. “How do you know it’s not because I’m fantasizing about killing you? ”

“We all have our kinks, baby.” I grin. “As long as I’m in the fantasy.”

I pause, letting the tension thrum between us.

“Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me.”

She shakes her head.

“Do it,” I say softly. “You want to. I know you’re aching. I can see it.”

Her eyes close. She lets out a long sigh. Shakes her head.

I wait. I’m patient.

Slowly, one hand lowers.

She brushes her fingers through her folds, slow and tentative. Her head tilts back, lips parted.

“Eyes on me.”

Her eyes snap open.

“Don’t look away again,” I tell her.

She keeps touching herself, small shudders running through her.

“Circle your clit—right there. Just like that. Now suck on your fingers.”

She obeys, lips wrapping around her knuckles.

“Good girl,” I rasp. “Now slip one finger inside.”

Her hips twitch.

“You can have two now.”

Her breathing turns to panting.

“Take them out,” I say gently. “Now just slide them up and down.”

Her thighs start to tremble. A soft whimper escapes her lips.

“Do you want more?”

She nods, desperate.

“Need my help?”

She blinks hard, her brows drawing together—then slowly, stubbornly shakes her head .

I lean in, my voice like silk. “Want my fingers, baby? Or maybe my tongue?”

“You can’t,” she breathes. “Not in the house.”

One side of my mouth quirks up. “Yeah?”

She nods.

And that’s all I need.

I rise in one swift motion, scooping her off the counter and tossing her over my shoulder.

“Rhett!” she yelps, clinging to my back as I stride out of the bathroom and through the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demands as I snatch a blanket off the ladder.

“Getting the fuck out of this house.”