9. A Kiss Too Deep

Ric’s gaze flickers, darkening slightly as he pulls back just enough to study my face. His hands hover at my hips, gripping me just tight enough to remind me of his presence, but not tight enough to keep me close. “What happened?” His voice is rougher, though his hands remain still.

I let out a breath, feeling the tension coil between us. “My stylist will be mad if I don’t get a proper picture in this dress,” I say, forcing a light tone, but the weight of the moment presses on me.

Ric’s lips twitch with the hint of a smirk, but he doesn’t fully relax. His thumb brushes my waist in a slow, deliberate motion. “Is that what you're worried about?” His voice is low, teasing. “A picture?”

I shrug, though the closeness makes it impossible to keep my cool. “Yes. She worked on it for weeks. It was meant to be worn for Mike’s launch party,” My voice wavers slightly. “I promised her it wouldn’t go to waste.”

“She might have to forgive you,” he murmurs, daring me to give in.

But I manage a smile, shaking my head.

“Seriously, Natalie?” Ric breathes in a raspy voice. 

He leans down, lips hovering just above mine before pressing a kiss, slow and deliberate. I feel the heat of it through every nerve in my body, the softness of his lips against the firm grip he maintains on my hips. He doesn’t pull away immediately, letting the moment linger, and when he finally does, his eyes stay locked on mine, daring me to make the next move. But his hands — his hands don’t move, as if keeping me tethered to him. 

I let out a shaky breath. It’s too close, too intimate. My body instinctively leans into his, drawn by an invisible force, and my fingers twitch with the need to pull him back, to feel him again, but I stop myself. The desire simmering between us is intoxicating, but I can’t let it take over. Not now.

He steps back, his eyes lingering on me for just a second longer before turning away, walking toward the corner of the room. I watch him move, each step confident, and the space between us feels like an ache that only deepens the moment he’s no longer close. He’s gone, but my pulse still races, my breath a little uneven as I try to steady myself. Just when I think I can catch my breath, Ric reappears, holding something in his hand.

A bouquet. Roses.

I blink, confused, my brow arching. Flowers? From him? 

He doesn’t say anything at first, just hands them to me with that infuriatingly lazy smile plastered on his face, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. I take the bouquet, fingers brushing against the soft petals, and shake my head, biting back a smirk. “You didn’t strike me as the flower-giving type,” I say, the words slipping out with amusement.

Ric chuckles, that deep, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. He steps closer again, his hand finding its place on my waist, pulling me against him. I don’t resist. I can’t. His other hand rests just above my hip, the warmth of his touch spreading through me. 

“I’m not,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Read the note.”

Frowning, I glance down at the bouquet, noticing for the first time a small golden note tied with a ribbon. Barely noticeable, but now, under his watchful gaze, it feels like it’s the only thing in the room. I slip it out, curiosity buzzing through my veins as I unfold the paper.

The words hit me like a tidal wave: Let’s fuck all night.

I freeze, my eyes widening for a fraction of a second before I catch myself. I fight the urge to laugh, but my lips twitch, threatening to betray me. Of course, there’s no question mark. Ric doesn’t ask. He tells. He decides. I close the note slowly, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling. When I look back up at him, his expression hasn’t changed — he’s still got that smug, knowing look. 

“You’ll try not to talk yourself out of it this time?” I ask, arching an eyebrow, slipping the note back into the bouquet like it’s no big deal.

His smile deepens as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, making me drop the bouquet from my hands. His breath is warm. “Take me with you before I have the chance to,” he murmurs, voice like velvet, dripping with intent.

I feel a thrill shoot through me, a tug-of-war between logic and desire. For a moment, we just stand there, eyes locked, neither of us willing to break first. My mind races, my stylist’s voice echoing in my head, reminding me of how pristine I need to look in this gown, how perfect every detail should be. The gown hugs every curve, shimmering in the soft light, the perfect picture of elegance. And here I am, teetering on the edge of letting Ric ruin it all with one wrong move. One kiss too deep. One touch too far. He could destroy this perfect image in an instant, leave it shattered at my feet, and I don’t know if I care enough to stop him

Temptation flares hot and fast, but I force myself to breathe, shaking my head slightly. No. Not yet. I can’t give in that easily. Not with Mike still in the picture.

As if on cue, my phone buzzes in my purse. I pull it out, the screen lighting up with yet another text from Mike. It’s cold, impersonal, just like the last dozen texts. Something about discussing the interview. Something about the image we need to maintain. 

Ric’s eyes flicker to the phone, and his brow arches. “Someone bothering you?” he asks, though I know he already knows the answer.

I sigh, glancing at the screen. “Yeah. My husband.”

There’s no hesitation. Ric reaches out, snatches the phone from my hand, and before I can react, he tosses it into the nearby trash bin like it’s a piece of junk. My mouth drops open in shock, and for a second, all I can do is stare at him. He doesn’t even flinch, his expression completely unbothered. “Get a new one,” he says simply, as if he’s giving me the most practical advice in the world.

I blink, trying to process what just happened. Then a small laugh escapes me, shaking my head. “Bold move,” I mutter, impressed despite myself.

He steps in closer again, his hand sliding back to my waist, the grip firmer this time, possessive. His other hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing along my jawline as he leans down, lips inches from mine. “No distractions now,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Just you and me.”

I smirk, tilting my head slightly. “Shouldn’t you be out there helping my father welcome the guests?”

He shrugs, his gaze dropping momentarily. “I’ve done enough. The planning, the organising — that’s my work. Your father’s the charmer. Me?” He pauses, his eyes locking on mine. “I’m not a people person.”

I narrow my eyes, intrigued by this side of him. “Not a people person? You?”

Before I can press him further, his phone vibrates in his pocket, and I catch a glimpse of my father’s name—Elliot—on the screen. Ric slips it back into his pocket without even acknowledging it.

I can’t help the teasing smirk that plays on my lips. “Should I throw yours in the bin too?”

His smirk widens, but he doesn’t answer. “Your father wants me to give a speech. Apparently, I’m the keynote speaker,” he says instead, the words almost casual, as if delivering a keynote is just another minor inconvenience.

I raise an eyebrow. “A speech? Since when are you the public figure type?” His smirk deepens, but he doesn’t answer right away. I nudge him playfully. “Come on, it’d make you even sexier in my eyes.”

Ric leans in again, his lips grazing mine as he whispers, “You really think I’m sexy?”

My pulse quickens as his lips capture mine, and his hand slips under my dress, fingers teasing the sensitive skin beneath. My breath hitches when his thumb brushes against my nipple, and a soft moan escapes my lips before I can stop it. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, a devilish grin on his face. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, though the look in his eyes tells me he’s anything but. “I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to let him continue, but I manage a breathy, “Maybe you should practise that speech. Might help with the self-control.”

Ric laughs softly, shaking his head. “There’s no speech, Natalie.”

I blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs again. “I’m not doing it. I don’t even want to show up.”

I stare at him, my mouth falling open slightly. “Why not?”

His voice softens, the confidence fading just a touch. “I don’t do crowds.”

I’m momentarily stunned. He, the always in-control Ric, doesn’t like crowds? Vulnerability peeks through his tough exterior, and it catches me off guard. I blurt out before I can hold back, “What if you pretended it was just me in the crowd? Could you do it then?”

He lets out a soft snicker, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “That would make it even harder.”

He steps back, his hand falling away from my body, and an unexpected pang of loss hits me at the sudden distance. It’s strange, how quickly I’ve gotten used to his touch, how quickly the absence of it feels like a void. Sexy or not, Ric is still a stranger.

“Try,” I say, my voice softer now, almost pleading.

He holds my gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. His kiss is soft, almost reverent, like a silent promise. “I won’t disappoint you,” he whispers. 

With one last lingering look, he turns and steps out of the greenroom, leaving me standing there, wondering what I’ve just gotten myself into.