Gilded Desires

Chapter 14: Fortune Inn - Begging for It

Any reasonable woman, hearing what Elliot Vance had just said, would’ve taken the hint and walked away without stirring the hornet’s nest.

But Clara Hayes was never the kind of woman who played by the rules. As Elliot took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a swirl of smoke, she leaned in—swift and light—and brushed her lips against his.

A barely-there kiss, fleeting as a breath.

Elliot furrowed his brows and stared at her. “Are you begging to be f****d?”

“I’m begging to be kissed.” Clara locked her eyes on his lips, those maddeningly sharp, seductive lips. She bit her lower lip shyly. “I liked the way you kissed me just now.”

“Don’t seduce me.”

“I’m not,” she said, tugging on the hem of his coat like a spoiled cat, her voice delicate and teasing. “It’s just… you scared me a little earlier. But honestly? I do want to sleep with you.”

She wanted it, and Clara Hayes was never the type to dress desire in denial.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Elliot said, tired of being toyed with. He pushed her hand away and moved toward the door.

“Wait…” Clara clung to his coat, keeping him from leaving. When he turned around, she looked at him intently and asked, “So… are we dating now?”

What the hell was going on in that head of hers?

Elliot genuinely wanted to crack open her skull and see what kind of chaos lived inside.

“I want to date you,” she confessed, honest and unfiltered. “That kiss… it did something to me. But everything’s happening too fast. I need time to adjust. Once I’m ready… I won’t be scared of your ‘thing’ anymore.”

“Do you even know what you're saying?” Elliot couldn't make sense of her. “You were crying over your ex’s w******p earlier, and now you’re telling me kissing me made you feel something?”

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” she said, breezy and unapologetic. “Sure, I haven’t forgotten him. But I still have needs. It’s been five years since we broke up—he’s got a fiancée now, getting married next month. What, am I supposed to be some tragic virgin ex-girlfriend, saving myself for a man who’s long moved on? I’m not a nun.”

“So you want me as your f**k buddy?”

“f**k buddies are just about bodies. Just s*x. That’s not me,” Clara said, her eyes dreamy and sincere. “I want connection. I want heart and body both—talking, holding, kissing, making love…”

She looked right into Elliot’s eyes, voice steady and serious. “The way you kissed me just now—I’m sure of it. I like you. All of you.”

He still said nothing. So she turned back to her coy, shameless self and clutched his coat again, pouting playfully. “I know you feel something too. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have reacted like that when I told you to go pay for it.”

Something about the way she said it made Elliot feel like he’d walked right into a trap.

He narrowed his eyes. “You pulled all this just to rope me into your little romance fantasy?”

“You lied to me first,” she huffed. “You dragged that suitcase around, gave me the key card—I really thought you were leaving. I felt awful.”

“So it’s okay for you to lie to me, but not the other way around?”

“Your mouth…” Elliot wanted to shut it with something more than words.

“If you don’t want to hear me talk,” she said softly, standing on her toes, “then kiss me. Shut me up with a kiss. I promise I won’t say another word.”

Elliot realized he needed to get the hell out of that room. If he didn’t, this little fox of a woman was going to devour him whole.

She looked innocent—but her eyes told a different story.

He strode toward the door, hand on the knob.

Clara rushed over and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her body flush against his back. “Just one kiss before you go.”

Even through the layers of clothing, Elliot could feel the soft press of her breasts. And in that moment, he remembered—despite her slender figure, how full her chest really was. Those creamy, bouncing curves flashed through his mind again...

“Let go.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with restraint. She had him riled up again. “If you don’t, I’ll f**k you right here.”

“Then f**k me,” she whispered.

Elliot spun around and lifted her into his arms in one swift, primal motion.

Clara giggled, looping her legs around his waist, arms around his neck, her smile blooming like mischief itself.

Elliot set her down on the cluttered desk again, bracing his hands on either side of her, leaning in so close they could feel the heat off each other’s breath. He said nothing—just stared deep into her eyes, like he could peel back the layers and see who she truly was.

Clara tilted her head up to meet his gaze. She tried not to blush under the intensity of it, but her cheeks warmed regardless. Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard.

The silence was so sharp, even that small swallow echoed between them.

Seeing his Adam’s apple move, Clara knew—men like him only did that when desire brewed hot beneath the surface. She reached up, curling her fingers behind his neck, and pulled his head down to meet her lips.

This kiss wasn’t like before. No brushing, no hesitation.

She parted her lips and flicked her tongue against his, trying to mimic the way he kissed her earlier. She wanted to dive into his mouth, wanted to taste him properly—but no matter how she coaxed, Elliot didn’t open up.

She tried again. And again. Still, his mouth remained stubbornly closed.

Just as she gave up and pulled back, Elliot captured her lips in a sudden, dominant kiss.

He opened his mouth and sucked her bottom lip in before his tongue slipped inside, catching hers in a wet, hungry twist.

“Mmhmm…” She melted into the taste of him—smoke, lust, danger. Her toes curled in her heels. She clutched the lapels of his coat, losing herself in the rhythm of their tongues.

Their mouths were wet and greedy, saliva slick between them, their bodies no longer able to pretend disinterest.

Clara couldn’t help herself—she parted her legs slightly, just enough for Elliot’s thigh to slide between. When he did, she clamped her legs shut, holding him there, grinding subtly as she clung to him, chest pressed tight to his.

Elliot’s hands weren’t idle. They roamed up the curve of her waist, over her shirt, fingers kneading the swell of her breast through the fabric. His lips trailed down to her neck.

“Mm… mm…” Clara’s eyes fluttered shut. Her head tilted back, lips parted as she let out soft, airy moans.

“Say my name,” he murmured against her throat. His voice was low, ragged, his mouth kissing along her neck to her ear. “Tell me who I am.”

“Mm…” She didn’t answer, her breath hitching.

He unbuttoned the top of her shirt and pressed his lips to her collarbone, kissing lower.

Then, without warning, his expression darkened—and he bit her.

Hard.

“Aah—!” Clara’s eyes snapped open from the pain. She shoved him back instinctively.

The taste of blood filled Elliot’s mouth. He licked it from his lips, then looked at the mark he left—dark, red, blooming like a wound on her skin.

“Don’t ever think you can use me to replace Daniel Shaw,” he said coldly. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

Clara was too stunned and aching to form a comeback. Bent forward, she touched her collarbone, only to find her fingers stained with blood.

“You bastard,” she hissed, voice breaking. “Elliot Vance, you f*****g bastard!”

When she looked up, he was already walking away, not even glancing back.

But Clara Hayes was not someone you could just hurt and walk out on. Retaliation was her second nature. Pain be damned.

She darted forward, grabbed his hand—and sank her teeth deep into the back of it.

The bite was vicious.

Elliot winced, his brow sharply creasing. His other hand curled into a tight fist.