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“It wasn’t for me,” he responds, pressing his palms against the counter as if to ground himself. “It was this lifetime, and I’m not letting you walk out that door again.”

“You’re my boss, Graham,” I snap and slam my bottle down hard. “Not to mention you’re about twenty years older than me. Cape Town was just a fantasy. Two people suspended in the magic of an exotic destination, letting themselves exist in the limbo between real life and dreams.”

“No,” he grumbles and pushes away from the counter, leaving his food untouched. “It doesn’t matter to me if you’re younger or older. It doesn’t matter if you’re the team doctor or you work for our biggest rival.” He turns my chair until I’m facing him and he leans down until his face is level with mine.

I try to shift away, leaning back from his nearness, but he places a hand on the counter on either side of me, caging me in. “It does matter,” I whisper. “We can’t do this.”

His pupils blow wide with desire and his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth. “You have haunted my every dream since that hotel door closed behind you,” he grits out. “With you, there are no rules.”

My stomach quivers with desire and I feel wetness pooling at my core, despite my best efforts to fight the spell he’s weaving over me. The way his presence always seems to work into my heart. I sigh and let my tense shoulders finally relax, accepting the fact that our conversation is done. There’s nothing left to say.

A smile stretches across his face as he watches my resolve crumble. He wraps his arms around me, pressing his cheek to the side of my head. “I’m sorry I pretended not to know you,” he murmurs into my hair.

I melt into his embrace, inhaling the scent of chlorine still clinging to his damp hair. My lips ghost along the shell of his ear. “For the record, this is probably a terrible idea.”

He steps back, giving me room to breathe, but before I can catch my breath, he lifts me into his arms. I squeal and wrap my legs around his waist, clinging tightly to his neck. “Probably,” he agrees with a chuckle, kissing me lightly on the lips. “But I’m feeling reckless.”

I smile, recognizing my words to him from that night all those months ago. “Me too,” I whisper and pull his head back down, catching his lower lip between my teeth.

He walks us to the bedroom, his lips never leaving mine. His kisses grow more urgent with each step, and I can feel his muscles tensing beneath my fingertips. I know that after tonight there’s no going back for either of us.

This is more than just a reckless night.

It’s taking a can of kerosene to an already smoldering wildfire.

I just hope that we aren’t reduced to ash in the end.