Twelve Dates to His Heart

Playing with Fire

The fabric pooled at my feet, and I stood there, half-naked, watching his gaze trail over me with the intensity of a predator that thought it had already won.

I waited a beat. Then another. Letting the silence stretch until it became unbearable.

"See something you like?" I asked, arching a brow, my voice cool and unaffected, as if I hadn’t just been practically undressed by him.

Theodore’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile, the kind that most women probably found irresistible.

"Almost," he said, his voice like a low hum of thunder. His gaze traced a slow, deliberate path from my lips to the exposed curve of my collarbone, lingering just a fraction too long.

I didn’t falter. Instead, I tilted my head slightly, letting my hair fall over my shoulder as if to give him a better view. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was sorely mistaken.

"You know," I said, my voice smooth and casual, "I thought about it and realized that I am not getting anything out of this deal."

That was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. As far as he knew, I was just here to help him out of the goodness of my heart.

His lips quirked up, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

"And what is it that you want?" Theodore murmured, his tone as sharp as glass. "Tell me, and I'll give you anything you want."

His eyebrows arched slightly, but he stayed rooted, unmoving. That was fine. I wanted to see how long he could hold out.

I took a deliberate step toward him, the air between us charged and humming, and placed my palm flat against his chest. His body was warm beneath the fabric of his shirt, and his heartbeat was steady—at least for now.

"Anything?" I whispered, letting my breath brush against his ear. My fingers trailed lightly over his chest, just above the buttons of his shirt.

His breath hitched. Just barely. If I hadn’t been standing so close, I might’ve missed it. But I didn’t miss the way his chest tightened under my touch, the way his jaw locked as if he were trying to keep himself in check.

"Careful," he said, his tone low and warning. "You don’t want to start something you can’t finish."

"Oh, I always finish what I start," I shot back, my voice soft, syrupy. I slid my hand lower, slipping the first button of his shirt free. "But maybe you don’t."

His composure cracked just a little. A sharp inhale. A slight shift of his weight, as if he were debating whether to grab my wrist and stop me or pull me closer.

And then I leaned in, close enough that my breath grazed the edge of his jaw. I let my lips brush just below his ear as I whispered, "What’s the matter, Theo? Cat got your tongue?"

His hands moved fast, catching my hips and holding me firmly in place as his head dipped toward mine. The tension in the room was a live wire now, sparking and dangerous. I could feel his restraint fraying, unravelling beneath my fingertips. He stopped himself before he could go any further, making me raise a brow.

"What will you do?" I challenged my voice barely above a whisper. "Finish what you started, for once?"

His breath caught for a split second, the flicker of hesitation in his eyes quickly replaced by something much darker. He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he closed the distance between us in a single step, his lips crashing against mine before I could take another breath.

It was raw, desperate—everything I’d wanted and nothing I’d anticipated. His kiss was urgent, demanding, as though every inch of him was on fire and he couldn’t stop himself. He pulled me closer, his hands gripping my waist, pressing his body flush against mine. I felt the heat of him sear through me, and the world around us seemed to fade into a blur.

I wasn’t the kind of woman to back down, though. I kissed him back with the same intensity, my hands threading into his hair, pulling him deeper, feeling the rise of his chest against mine. His lips moved with possessive urgency, and every brush of his tongue sent a jolt of electricity straight through me.

The tension between us was palpable, like a storm about to break. My pulse was racing, and I could feel his hands moving, slowly inching lower, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of my lower back.

But that was the problem. It was getting too serious, too fast.

I forced myself to break away, my chest heaving as I pulled back just enough to put some space between us.

His lips were still close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, his breath shallow, his eyes wild. He was just as lost in the moment as I had been, and for a second, I thought he might pull me back in.

But I was the one in control here.

I placed a hand gently on his chest, my fingers just enough to stop him. The room felt charged with heat, but I needed to make something clear.

"You’re not getting what you want," I said, voice low but steady, eyes locking with his as I caught my breath. "Not tonight, Theodore."

Then, in a slow and deliberate move, I pushed away from him before I pulled my forgotten dress back on. He watched my movements hotly, his gaze threatening to burn me.

"Thanks for the warm-up," I said, my voice dripping with mockery as I adjusted the strap of my dress, letting my fingers graze over the fabric like I was savouring the moment. My smile was sweet, wicked, and entirely purposeful.

"I think I’ll finish what you started… with someone who knows how to follow through."

I could feel his gaze sear into my back as I turned toward the door, my hips swaying with each step, making sure he could see just enough. I didn’t need to look back to know the effect my words had on him.

The tension hung thick in the air, but I had no intention of letting it break tonight.

It was thrilling. Exhilarating.

And maybe just a little bit dangerous.