The air between them was thick with tension a chain saw couldn't whittle.
He lifted his head. Slammed his gaze into her like a head-on collision.
Kaia realized she was trembling. Hoping he hadn't noticed, she said, "You didn't put my dress in the washer, did you?"
"No. I was going to wash it, but realized it was dry-clean only."
"Oh whew. That dress cost me two weeks' salary." It dawned on her then that she had nothing else to wear home. It had to be either the coffee-stained dress or the bathrobe. Clearly, she'd go with the coffee-stained dress.
"I poured you a drink." He nodded at a second tumbler of Baileys sitting on the small circular table situated between the two leather chairs. "Figured you could use it."
"I'm not much of a drinker."
He raised an eyebrow. "No?"
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed. "I don't like the way alcohol makes me feel."
"How's that?"
"Different. Unlike myself."
"Isn't that the purpose of drinking?"
"But I like being who I am," she said.
He snorted, as if he was jealous of that or didn't believe her, and took another swallow of the Baileys.
This wasn't smart. She shouldn't have come here. She had no idea what he wanted from her.
Or what she wanted from him. It was all muddled. Her childhood crush mixed with this overpowering, but momentary lust.
And the Song of the Soul Mate. Don't forget that.
"Screw it," Ridge said, set down his drink, reached across the space between them, and yanked her into his arms.
Kaia gasped, startled and thrilled at the same time. Her head swam. She loved being in Ridge Lockhart's take-charge embrace.
His mouth hovered above hers, full and lush and beautiful. He smelled of Baileys, coffee, and the cinnamon mints served at the wedding-strong, bracing, and spicy sweet.
The moment his lips touched hers, that crazy swell of humming buzzed along the back of her brain again, louder and more insistent than it had been the night before.
It was a steady throb. A relentless river of vibration. A sweet rhythmic whir that simultaneously lulled her and shocked her into alertness.
Him. Him. Him.
Kaia couldn't quite remember how they got from the living room to his bedroom. Kissing was involved, and a slow two-step to the tune of the humming in her head. She floated on a current, every murmur, every caress, every sigh, colored with dreamy magic.
"I'll take that Baileys now," she said, once they were in his bedroom.
"Do you want to feel like someone else?"
She already did, a strange new woman eager to explore a provocative land. "Liquid courage," she clarified.
He stared at her a long moment, his eyes dark and unreadable. "We don't have to do this."
It wasn't a question of want, but rather, pulsing, unrelenting need. She needed to be sated. She needed to be with this man. Hungered for him and him alone. Craved him.
"Yes," she croaked. "I'm sure."
"Be right back." He vanished and quickly returned with the tumbler of Baileys.
Their fingers brushed in the handoff. Kaia inhaled a sharp, urgent breath.
"Yeah," he whispered. "Me too."
The glass trembled in her hand. She held on tightly, hoping he wouldn't notice. Once she'd regained a modicum of control, she brought the drink to her lips, took a bracing sip. Winced at the cloyingly sweet, creamy taste.
She set the glass down on a dresser, felt the warm liquid slide through her bloodstream, closed her eyes, and slowed her breathing.
"Kaia?"
Gradually, she fluttered her eyes open, shifted her gaze to meet his, and the world stopped spinning. Either that, or it sped up so fast it felt like it had frozen still.
The humming in her head spread, blooming, growing until it filled her entire skull with ethereal song.
This was insanity.
She knew that. It was simply ringing in her ears. Except the noise wasn't coming from her ears. It emanated from the base of her brain. A primal, eternal sound, heavenly as harp music.
Having sex with Ridge would be a game changer. He would mark her indelibly. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.
There was danger here. She could fall in love with him. He could break her heart. Mostly likely would break her heart. He could break her in a way from which she might not ever recover.
And yet, she wanted him. Uncontrollably. The need was relentless, pushing at her with gusto and force.
He opened his arms and she threw herself into them. She could no more resist him than the ocean's tide could resist the pull of the moon.