“It was safer on the ladder,” I say, taking a step closer toward her. I fist my hands in my pockets, hoping that will keep me from touching her. From strangling her for scaring the shit out of me on the ladder, and for making me miss out on an opportunity to talk to Fred tonight.

Her blue eyes widen in shock, and she takes a step backward. “You’re mad at me? No, I don’t think so.” She points a polished red nail toward my chest. “You’re the one who’s been such an ass tonight.”

I step right into her finger. Her short nail doesn’t even press past the material of my shirt.

“I spent the majority of the night away from you at your request, then when I was in the middle of talking to Fred, I discover you’re dancing with another man. The same man whose company is also trying to acquire Voltaire.”

“Right. It’s always about business and Voltaire. Never about people and feelings, because they have them you know. Feelings. People. Me. I have feelings.” She drops her finger from between us, probably a bad move on her part. My body immediately takes the given space. “I didn’t know. I probably shouldn’t have danced with him then, but he was nice.” Her eyes lift to mine. “And he liked my dress.”

“Of course, he did.” I move my hands to the shelf above Chloe’s head. “He wants anything that’s mine.”

“You are the worst. You couldn’t give me a compliment if you tried.”

“That’s what this is about? What Hunter said?”

“No.” She looks defiant, her features pinched tight. “Yes. Maybe if you weren’t doling out compliments left and right to anyone who wasn’t me, this wouldn’t be an issue.”

“You want to know why I told other women they looked nice, or lovely or some other bullshit nicety tonight?”

Her face softens. “It wasn’t bullshit. They did look lovely.”

A puff of air escapes my nostrils, which is fitting. I’m the bull and Chloe is the red flag waving in the distance, taunting me, teasing me. Except, now she’s right here within reach. I lower my face toward hers. The scent of her shampoo mixed with hairspray and her floral perfume wraps its arms around me, pulling me in further.

“You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Same,” she says, tilting her chin up, giving me access to her full lips.

I don’t think before I crush my lips to hers. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since the moment she descended my staircase tonight. Chloe’s perfect, pliable lips on mine. She meets me there, hungry just like I am. Or it’s the natural reaction to the frustration we’re feeling with each other. Pent up anger and lust.