Temptations unleashed
1142 Words
Dinner was meant to be formal. Civil. A polite showcase of unity between two families preparing to merge their bloodlines and fortunes. But from the moment Megan stepped into the dining hall, she knew there would be nothing polite about the atmosphere tonight.
The chandelier cast warm light across the long mahogany table, illuminating polished silverware, expensive wine, and faces she wanted nothing to do with. Mrs. Rodgers sat at the head of the table, radiating authority and smug satisfaction. The son — Daniel — was on her right, stiff-backed, wearing a polite but emotionless expression, the perfect corporate heir.
But it was the man at the far end of the table — Mr. Rodgers — who made Megan’s breath shorten.
Dark suit, open collar.
Jaw tight.
Eyes fixed directly on her the moment she entered, as if she were the only person in the room.
She hated that her knees weakened. Hated that she could still taste him. Hate… was a small word for what burned inside her.
Yet her body remembered him more honestly than her mind was willing to admit.
“Megan,” Mrs. Rodgers called cheerfully, waving her toward the empty seat next to Daniel. “Come sit. We were just discussing wedding themes.”
Wedding.
Theme.
Words she was supposed to care about. Words she wished were knives instead.
She forced a smile and sat beside Daniel politely. The man didn’t even glance her way. He was respectful, charming, and utterly disinterested. A stranger dressed in a tailored suit.
Across the table, Mr. Rodgers’ jaw tightened. His fingers drummed the wood once, slow and deliberate, before curling into a fist.
Megan lowered her gaze. She couldn’t look at him. Not with his wife sitting right there. Not with his son — her supposed future husband — an inch away.
But her body was betraying her. Heat pooled low in her stomach, memories creeping in uninvited.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
Mrs. Rodgers lifted her wine glass, smiling brightly. “Daniel tells me your parents are thrilled about the arrangement.”
Megan swallowed hard. “They’re thrilled about the money.”
A few forks froze mid-air. Daniel blinked.
But Mr. Rodgers… smirked. Slowly. As if proud. As if she’d said something that confirmed exactly what he already knew about her.
Mrs. Rodgers cleared her throat. “Well… your honesty is refreshing.”
“It’s the only thing she knows,” Mr. Rodgers said from the far end, voice low but cutting through every conversation.
Megan stiffened. She dared to look at him now.
His eyes were darker. He wasn’t smirking anymore.
He was remembering.
Last night.
The buttons she had undone.
The way she had begged—
No. She forced her gaze away, her cheeks burning.
Daniel, oblivious, leaned closer. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can take things slowly. I’m not in any rush.”
A decent man.
A boring man.
A man she couldn’t care less about.
But before she could respond, Mr. Rodgers’ voice cut in again — sharper this time.
“Slow isn't always effective.”
Her breath hitched.
Mrs. Rodgers glanced at him. “Darling?”
He didn’t break eye contact with Megan. “Some things require… decisive action.”
The tension thickened, suffocating, impossible to ignore. Megan clenched her hands under the table, her pulse hammering.
Mrs. Rodgers continued talking about floral arrangements, completely blind to the war unfolding across her dining table. Daniel politely entertained her. But Mr. Rodgers?
He never looked away.
He watched Megan the way a storm watches a coastline — with inevitability.
At one point she reached for her glass, and his eyes dropped to her fingers. Traceable desire flickered briefly, like a match struck under gasoline.
She knew then, with terrifying clarity:
He was losing control.
And so was she.
---
A PRIVATE INVITATION
The moment dessert ended, Mr. Rodgers stood.
“Megan,” he said smoothly, “a word.”
Mrs. Rodgers smiled, unaware. “Oh yes, you should speak with her. Father-in-law to daughter-in-law bonding!”
If only she knew.
Megan followed him through the corridor, not because she trusted him, but because the air between them demanded confrontation. His steps were confident, deliberate, the energy in him barely contained.
He led her into his private study and shut the door behind them. The click echoed like a gunshot.
Megan crossed her arms. “What do you want from me?”
He approached slowly, as if studying every inch of her skin.
“You already know.”
“Stop,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You’re married. I’m—”
“You’re betrothed,” he corrected, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “There’s a difference.”
She stepped back.
He stepped forward.
“Megan.”
Her name in his mouth sounded like possession.
“I tried to forget. I tried to let it go.”
She swallowed hard.
“So did I.”
He reached her, stopping barely a breath away, his presence suffocating, intoxicating.
“But then I saw you beside my son,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers, “and something inside me snapped.”
Her lips parted.
He looked at them.
Hungrily.
“You’re affecting me in ways you shouldn’t,” he confessed, voice dark and raw. “And you know it.”
She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Tell me you didn’t feel anything,” he challenged softly.
“Tell me last night meant nothing.”
She closed her eyes. “I can’t.”
A harsh breath escaped him.
He lifted a hand — slowly — and brushed his thumb across her jaw. Not touching her lips. Not touching her neck.
Just enough to set her on fire.
“You’re playing with something dangerous,” she whispered.
“So are you,” he replied, leaning closer, his breath warm against her cheek. “And yet you walked into my study.”
Her heart hammered.
“I shouldn’t be here.”
“Then leave.”
She didn’t move.
He smiled — slowly, wickedly, knowingly.
“That’s what I thought.”
His finger trailed down her arm, feather-light, and her breath broke.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.
And God help her —
she couldn’t.
Their foreheads touched.
His hand slid to her waist.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, unthinking, unstoppable.
The air between them burned.
Her lips were inches from his—
Then a loud knock jolted them apart.
“Dad?” Daniel’s voice.
“Are you in there?”
Mr. Rodgers clenched his jaw.
Megan stepped back, shaking, breathless.
He opened the door just enough for his son.
“I’ll be out in a moment.”
When the door closed, he turned back to her, eyes blazing.
“This isn’t over.”
And she knew he was right.
It had only just begun.
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