PLAYING WITH FIRE
629 Words
Caroline didn’t sleep that night. Not really.
She’d left the tower with her mind racing and her pulse still humming from Reuben’s words — "I don’t ask for things I already own." That line played on loop in her head, alternating between fury and something she didn’t want to name. Something dangerous.
The next day came fast. Too fast.
She was supposed to be off-duty, but a message lit up her phone before the sun was even up. One word: Come.
No explanation. No name.
But she knew.
When she arrived at the same tower, she was led straight to a different part of the building — a private underground floor with walls that looked more like a luxury war bunker than a business office. Steel. Chrome. Bulletproof glass. Everything screamed power.
She walked through the long hallway, escorted by two men with expressionless faces. When the door opened, she expected another sleek room or some intimidating office.
Instead, it was a training room.
Reuben stood at the center, shirtless this time — black joggers low on his hips, hands wrapped, sweat already glistening on his chest.
Her heart skipped.
He didn’t say anything. Just tossed her a pair of gloves.
"We’re sparring?" she asked, catching them.
He nodded. "You said you’d break a man’s hand. Let’s see it."
Caroline stared at him. "You’re serious."
"Dead serious."
There was no music. No onlookers. Just silence and tension.
She changed quickly, pulled her hair into a messy bun, and stepped onto the mat. Her clothes clung to her — leggings and a tight tank top that left nothing to the imagination. Reuben didn’t look away.
"You fight before?" he asked.
"Enough."
"Good. Don’t hold back."
The first punch came from her — fast, aimed at his shoulder. He dodged easily. The next one grazed his ribs.
He didn’t hit back. Just danced around her, letting her try.
"Come on," he taunted, smirking. "Is that it?"
She lunged.
He caught her wrist. Spun her around. Pinned her.
"You’re hesitating," he breathed near her ear.
She elbowed him hard in the ribs, breaking free.
"That’s better."
They moved again — a blur of steps and limbs and narrowed eyes. She wasn’t just fighting him — she was fighting every damn thing he made her feel. The way he made her skin burn. The way her thoughts tangled every time he got too close.
She aimed high — he ducked. Swept her legs — she stumbled. He grabbed her waist to steady her, and for a moment, they froze.
Breathless.
His hand still on her lower back.
Their eyes locked.
"You don’t fight fair," she whispered.
His grip tightened.
"Neither do you."
Before she could pull away, his mouth was on hers.
There was nothing gentle about it. It was teeth, heat, and the sharp bite of control slipping away. She kissed him back because she couldn’t not. Because her body answered before her mind could stop it.
When they pulled apart, she was dizzy.
He leaned in close, forehead against hers.
"You make it very hard to stay away, Caroline."
She swallowed. Her hands were still on his chest, and she could feel the rhythm of his heart — steady, heavy.
"Then don’t," she said.
His eyes darkened.
"Say that again."
She met his gaze. Unflinching.
"Don’t stay away."
Reuben’s jaw tensed like he was holding back something primal.
Then he stepped back.
"Shower’s through there," he said roughly, nodding toward a hidden door. "You’ve earned it."
She stared at him, waiting for him to make another move. He didn’t.
So she walked away.
But not before glancing back — and seeing the way he watched her like a storm waiting to break.
---
Outside, the city hadn’t changed.
But Caroline had.
- Writer
