Kaz was mid-strategy explanation when you stepped into his space. Close. Too close.

He froze.

“Back up,” he warned.

You didn’t. Instead, you nudged his cane aside with your foot and leaned in just enough that your breath brushed his neck. His inhale was sharp, deadly. “Don’t,” he growled.

“Why not?” you whispered. “Afraid you’ll like it?”

His jaw clenched so hard the muscle twitched. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, “I want to burn.”

Something in Kaz snapped. Not violently. worse. Quietly. He leaned forward, lips inches from yours. His gloved hand hovered near your hip, trembling from restraint. “If I start,” he whispered darkly, “I won’t stop.”

Your smile was slow, wicked. “Good.” Kaz released a shaky breath, utterly undone.