The world around me blurred, the heat of the fire mingling with the warmth of Rhett's body pressed against mine. His hands rested low on my hips, guiding me with a possessiveness that made my heart pound, but I didn't push him away.

As we moved together, the first few raindrops fell, cool against my warm skin. At first, they were barely noticeable, a soft drizzle that added a new layer to the heady atmosphere. But soon they came down faster, heavier, soaking into the ground and darkening the dirt beneath our feet. The fire hissed and sputtered, but its glow persisted, casting an orange light that danced along the edges of the crowd.

I glanced up, feeling the cool droplets on my face, a contrast to the warmth of Rhett's body pressed against mine. My clothes began to cling to me, the fabric sticking to my skin in a way that felt both uncomfortable and oddly intimate.

"Looks like we're in for a bit of a shower," I murmured, my voice a little breathless from the sudden change in the weather—and from the way Rhett's hands tightened their hold on me.

A few of the other couples began to scatter, laughing as they ran for cover, but Rhett didn't seem to care. He just pulled me closer, his voice low and persuasive in my ear. "Don't stop now," he whispered, his tone soft but insistent. "It's just a little rain."

The firelight caught in his eyes, turning them a shade of gold that I hadn't noticed before. They flickered with something intense, something that sent a shiver through me despite the warmth of his embrace. My head was spinning, the alcohol clouding my thoughts, making it hard to think clearly, to remember why this could have been a bad idea.

So I didn't push him away. I couldn't. Not when he was looking at me like that, with those almost golden eyes that seemed to promise something more, something that made my heart race in a way I couldn't control.

The water streamed down his face, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my rain-cooled skin. "You're beautiful, you know that?" His voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, and I couldn't help but meet his gaze.

I was drenched, my blouse clinging to my skin, the fabric transparent in places, but Rhett's gaze was unwavering, appreciative in a way that felt both thrilling and dangerous. He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of wet hair away from my face, his touch lingering as if he was savoring the moment.

"Rhett," I started, my voice barely above a whisper, but he cut me off with a look that was half a smile, half something else entirely.

"Just dance with me," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. His hand slid up my back, pulling me even closer, our bodies flush against each other, every movement of his muscles transmitted through the thin, wet layers of our clothes.

The world around us faded, the rain, the fire, the music—all of it drowned out by the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Rhett's fingers trailed down my spine, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and before I could think better of it, his lips were on mine.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, a mix of the rain and the fire that surrounded us. His lips were firm, and I could taste the whiskey on them still. His hands held me in place, not giving me the chance to pull away. I didn't want to anyways.

The rain soaking us to the bone as we stood there, lost in the moment. Rhett's kiss deepened, his hands tangling in my wet hair, pulling me even closer, and for a brief, dizzying moment, I let myself get lost in him, in the sensation of his lips, his touch, the way he made me feel.

But then, just as suddenly as it started, the spell broke. Reality came crashing back in, the sound of the rain hitting the earth, the hiss of the fire, the distant murmur of voices from those who hadn't sought cover.

Rhett finally pulled back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath heavy and ragged, but I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine, the heat of his kiss lingering in the cool night air. His eyes, those golden eyes, searched mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat, and for a moment, I forgot everything—Colt, the bonfire, even the rain that was pouring down around us.

He didn't say anything, just held me there, his hands still tangled in my hair, his breath coming fast and hard.

I swallowed, my throat tight with a mixture of guilt and something I couldn't quite name. "Rhett... I—"

He cut me off again, but this time with a softer touch, his fingers brushing against my cheek, wiping away the rain—or maybe the tears—that had mingled with it.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Lemon," he said, his voice gentle, but there was an edge to it, something possessive that made my heart race for an entirely different reason.

I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside me. The rain had picked up, falling harder now, drenching us both to the bone. My hair clung to my face, and my clothes stuck to my skin, but none of that mattered as I stood there, staring up at Colt. His eyes were dark, stormier than the sky above us, and there was a tension in his jaw that told me everything I needed to know—he'd seen enough.

"Colt," I whispered, but the word was swallowed by the sound of the rain and the pounding of my heart in my ears. I didn't know what to say, how to explain the mess I'd found myself in.

Rhett was still holding onto me, his grip firm and possessive.

"Let her go," Colt said, his voice low and rough, cutting through the rain like a blade. He didn't yell, didn't need to. The command in his voice was enough to make Rhett pause, to make me shiver.

Rhett didn't let go right away, though. Instead, he tightened his hold on me, pulling me closer, as if to stake his claim. "What's your problem, Colt?" he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it, a challenge.

Colt took a step closer, and even in the rain, I could see the muscle in his jaw clenching. "I said, let her go."

I could feel the tension in the air, the way the two of them were sizing each other up, waiting to see who would make the first move. It was a standoff, and I was caught right in the middle.

"Colt," I tried again, my voice shaking as I finally pulled away from Rhett, stepping out of his grasp. "It's fine. I'm fine."

Colt's eyes flicked to mine, searching, questioning, but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The look on his face said it all.

"You heard her," Rhett said, his voice dripping with arrogance as he took a step closer to Colt. "She's fine. Why don't you just walk away, Langmore?"

Colt's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. The crowd around us had grown quiet, a few murmurs rippling through as people began to take notice of the escalating situation. I caught sight of Caleb pushing his way through the gathering onlookers, his face a mix of concern and frustration.

Colt didn't back down. His fists clenched at his sides, rain dripping from his soaked hair into his eyes. "I'm not walking away, Rhett," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Not without her."

Before I could react, before I could even process the words, Colt lunged. His fist connected with Rhett's jaw with a sickening thud, sending him stumbling backward.

Rhett recovered quickly, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression twisting into something darker. "You son of a—" he growled, swinging back at Colt. The punch landed squarely on Colt's side, but it barely seemed to faze him. Colt came back with another hit, harder this time, the force of it knocking Rhett to the ground.

"Stop it!" I screamed, the sound barely audible over the roar of the rain and the grunts of the two men. But they didn't hear me, or if they did, they didn't care. They were locked in their own battle, a battle that had nothing to do with reason and everything to do with pride.

Rhett scrambled to his feet, his face a mask of fury. He charged at Colt, his fists flying, but Colt was ready, dodging the blows with a precision that spoke of years of pent-up frustration. He caught Rhett's arm mid-swing, twisting it behind his back and slamming him against the nearest tree. The impact was brutal, the bark splintering under the force.

"Enough!" I cried, rushing forward, desperate to stop them before it went too far. I grabbed Colt's arm, pulling with all my strength. "Colt, please, stop!"

Colt didn't answer with words. Instead, he threw another punch, this time hitting Rhett square in the gut, making him double over in pain. It was pure chaos—both of them were going at each other with a fury that was terrifying to watch. The rain only added to the madness, the downpour drenching us all as the fight escalated.

I screamed at them again, but my voice was lost in the sound of fists meeting flesh, the grunts of pain, and the roar of the storm around us.

Then, suddenly, Caleb and Sean were there, shouting, their hands gripping Colt and Rhett's arms as they tried to separate them. It was a struggle—neither of them wanted to back down—but eventually, they were pulled away from each other, both of them breathing hard, blood mixing with rain on their faces.

"Enough!" Caleb yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos as he held Colt back, his eyes blazing with anger. "This isn't the time or the place for this!"

Rhett shook off Sean's grip, his eyes still locked on Colt, but he didn't make another move. He just glared at him, his chest heaving, his lip split and bleeding from where Colt had hit him.

Colt was just as furious, his body tense, ready to lunge again if given the chance. But he didn't. He just stood there, breathing hard, his eyes filled with a mixture of rage and something else—something that looked a lot like hurt.

"Lemon, let's go," Colt growled, his voice low and rough as he turned to me, his hand outstretched.

Rhett's gaze flicked to mine, something unreadable in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. He just stood there, watching, waiting to see what I would do.

"Go on, Lemon," He said, his voice rough as he took a step back. "Go with him, if that's what you want."

Colt didn't wait for me to decide. He reached out, taking my hand in his, his grip strong and sure. "Let's go," he said, and it wasn't a request. It was a command, and for once, I was glad to follow it. His grip tightened as if he was afraid I might slip away.