“My God, you look breathtaking, Red.” He stated smoothly, intimate eyes wearing a half smile, taking zero time to make her heart flutter. “Though, you always do.”

She could scarcely breathe. Her body now acting in complete treachery of good judgment, permitting her gaze to drift lower, stealing a peek at the open collar of his deep plum shirt. His throat clean shaven and golden tan. She could practically feel the hard running emotions firing off beneath his fine graphite suit jacket.

The curve of his mouth lifted as his gaze slipped to her feet. “Love the shoes.”

The comment, bursting of innuendo, snapped her out of her awestruck state of mind. Her eyes narrow. Not the shoes. Don’t even go there! Carrie Ann cocked her head, lifting her gaze to meet his. She lost the ability to string two words together, though a firm Fuck Off rang loud and clear in her head.

Summer dropped his view, admiring the cherry-colored polish peeking out from her blue suede Jimmy Choos. Leaning closer he murmured in a soft tender voice seemingly searching for a fond memory, “Nice choice. I do miss your Come Fuck Me Red, but my favorite is still your Eat My Pussy Pink.”

A surge of blood ripped through her veins searching claim of the farthest points. Her signature, cherry-red polish had been the inspiration for her nickname. Wrath and haste overrode every rational thought in her brain. Carrie Ann drew in a deep breath, braced herself, and spun to face him.

Head on.

Summer’s hips jutted backward, but it was too late. Carrie Ann had him right where she wanted him…by the balls.

He wasn’t breathing well.

And neither was she.

They glared at each other in a silent battle of wills, his cocksure power fading beneath the tips of her fingers.

Summer’s hand flew to his groin, seizing her wrist with long powerful fingers. His chest heaved, nostrils flared, and lips parted sucking in a rough gasp. As he exhaled, the heat of his ragged breath fanned across her temple. Gripping his manliness, her body responded involuntarily easing into him as if being caught in a riptide or gravitational pull.

Carrie Ann watched a ripple of a hard swallow slip down his throat. If it weren’t for the look of terror in his eyes as they rolled beneath the lids, she could’ve easily mistaken the strain of his neck and face for an intense climax.

A slow burn deepened in the pit of her stomach.

“Easy, Red.” Pain eminent in the guttural croak.

“Take it easy?” Her body quaked. Losing all good sense and stability, she squeezed a little tighter. “Take it easy? How ’bout you cut me some slack?”

A battle of stubborn wills ensued, neither flinching. Pressure was building, toxic and uncomfortable. She could feel the contraction of his abdomen and below shrinking in the palm of her hand.

“Carrie Ann,” he panted with a hint of pleading. A small vein throbbed above his left eye.

“The polish? That’s pushing it a little, wouldn’t you agree?” She issued the warning through gritted teeth. The rising temperature in her hand noticeable through the thin layer of his trousers.

The rich amber shade of Summer’s eyes deepened, darkening to the color of whiskey. Any words or disagreement appeared to be lodged in his throat. Tightening the imprint of his fingers around her wrist, he gave a small nod, discreetly taking inspection of their surroundings.

“Had I known that’s how you control Ryan, I might’ve actually tried that a time or two during filming.” Tommy heeded from behind.

So engrossed in anger, she’d completely ignored their situation and surroundings. Carrie Ann immediately loosened her grip on his goods. A heavy puff of air whooshed from his lungs. Summer refused to relinquish her wrist. The weight in her hand grew thick and heavy with arousal. A dangerous cocktail of irritation and desire swirled between them. The lids of his eyes dusted shut beneath his thick dark lashes. His gaze turned lazy with hunger. She could feel the blush on her cheeks begin to blister.

“Let go of me.” Brimming with embarrassment, her voice thickened.

His face hardened to stone. He nailed her with a sharp glare, before releasing her arm.

A long silence lingered.

Now acutely aware of her surroundings, and growing humiliation, Carrie Ann remained paralyzed facing Summer’s shirt front. Her reaction bordered on one of the most hasty, reckless, un-thought-through, excruciating moments of her life. Well almost. She refused to look up at him or turn around to face the music.

“Is everything okay here?” John questioned with the potency of a protective brother.

Folding her arms beneath her chest, she forced herself to turn around. Clearing the sentiment from her throat, she attempted to sound resolute, “Everything is fine.”

“Excuse us.” Summer bit coolly.

Feeling the grip of his fingers encircle her upper arm. Carrie Ann let out a tiny squeal. Her eyes bulged in surprise as he hauled her away from the table.

“Ryan?” Tommy inched toward them, caution held in his tone.

“Back off, Tommy,” Summer said through clenched teeth.

While the collective gaze of her friends teetered between them, Carrie Ann nodded indicating she could handle herself; as if she hadn’t just made that point crystal clear.

She could’ve stopped him, but went along willingly. Though she didn’t know why. He steered her through the crowd, making their way through a set of doors. She wriggled free of his grasp, but he splayed his hand across the small of her back, directing her down a long corridor and into an office.

Summer shut the door behind them, locking out the sounds of muffled voices and beats of music. Boxes of wine and liquor hid the wall behind a long desk covered in files and paperwork.

“What the hell are you doing?” She spun to face him, hands clamped to her hips.

“Me?” He let out an explosive huff.

The rhythmic sounds of their labored breathing filled the strained air between them. Layers of feelings, abandoned and painful, clawed their way toward the surface. Ancient feelings she swore she was over ten years ago.

She unloaded, spewing years of pent up emotions. “You don’t get to just step back into my life! Have you lost it? You have the nerve to think we’re going to pick up…”

“Yes, I’ve lost it.” His heated stare fixated on her bottom lip. Overhead lighting shadowed the dimple on his chin. “And I’ve decided I want it back.”

“What?” She balked, wrinkling her nose. Her chest propelled forward in defiance. “Why the hell are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m just wondering—“One brow lifted and a sexy grin deepened on one side. “—if your mouth is gonna taste as good as I remember.”

“You’re out of your mind!” She drilled her index finger to his forehead.

A long pause.

Without taking his eyes off her, Summer took two wary steps back, repositioning himself out of her reach. He leaned against the desk, half sitting on the edge. Her senses heightened witnessing something she hasn’t seen in some time, his full lips curving into a genuine heart stopping smile. An electric spasm struck low in her abdomen.

“What do you think, Red? Hmm?”

Hearing him ask the double question, her thighs tensed. Every time he followed a question with Hmm, his fingers were usually thread through her hair for one reason or another. Each recollection zipping through her mind led her back to some seriously pleasurable memories of discovery. Memories so clear, she could damn near feel the imprint of his hand in her hair.

“Do you think I’ll taste as good as you remember? Hmm?”

Muscles in her face screwed tight in annoyance.

Arrogant. Cocky. Mother. Fucker.

“One date, Red. I just want one night.”

Shaking with frustration and several other very identifiable sensations, she snapped.