Chapter2
1371 Words
Velvet shadows
Blair’s POV
His eyes never left mine.
Even as Lucy leaned into me with a smirk and whispered, “I’m heading out with that cutie over there,” jerking her head toward a guy by the bar, his stare didn’t flicker.
I barely registered her words. “Wait… what? You’re leaving?”
She giggled, squeezing my arm. “You’re good, aren’t you? You look... better.”
Better? I was dizzy from two drinks and a stranger’s gaze that felt like it had stripped me bare.
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Go.”
She winked. “Text me if you need me. Or if you don’t.” And with that, she vanished into the crowd.
I turned back, and he was still there.
Still watching.
Still unreadable.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. But he closed the distance between us like he already owned the air I was breathing.
“You don’t dance like someone who wants to be left alone,” he said, voice cool, rich, and low.
A shiver trailed down my spine. My mouth opened before my brain caught up. “You don’t watch someone like that unless you’re planning to do something about it.”
He blinked once. The smallest shift in expression. Amusement? Or something darker?
“I was considering it.”
Silence pulsed between us like electricity. My heart thumped so loudly I was sure he could hear it. Maybe he did. His eyes dipped to my lips.
I should have looked away.
I didn’t.
His hand touched my waist. Not gently. Firmly. Possessively. Like he had already decided I belonged to him tonight.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, leaning in so close I could smell expensive cologne and a faint trace of whiskey.
“Say no, and I’ll walk away.”
I didn’t say no.
Instead, I whispered, “Why me?”
He didn’t answer.
He kissed me.
Not soft. Not sweet.
His mouth claimed mine in a way that made my knees tremble and my thoughts scatter. It wasn’t tender, it was demanding, coaxing something out of me I didn’t know I had.
Fire. Hunger.
I’d never been kissed like this.
I’d never been kissed at all.
And maybe that was why everything inside me twisted and fluttered, why I melted into the kiss like it was the only thing keeping me alive.
When he pulled back, I barely remembered to breathe.
His thumb brushed the corner of my lip.
“You taste like trouble,” he said quietly. “But I’ve had a rough week.”
I blinked. “You don’t even know me.”
He tilted his head. “Do I need to?”
My stomach flipped.
I knew this was insane. I knew I was drunk. I knew better.
But I didn’t care.
“I want to spend more time with you,” he said.
My voice came out smaller than I expected. “Okay.”
He didn’t smile. Just took my hand, like the decision was already made.
He led me out of the bar into the crisp night air, our hands still locked like some unspoken agreement had already been sealed.
I should’ve been nervous. Cautious. Maybe even scared.
But instead, I was wired.
Buzzing.
Drunk not just from alcohol, but from the weight of his presence, the way he walked like the world parted for him, how even silence wrapped around him like a second skin.
We didn’t speak as a black car pulled up to the curb.
He opened the door. Waited for me to slide in.
I hesitated for a second, just a heartbeat. Long enough to ask myself what the hell I was doing.
Then I got in.
The ride was quiet.
His shoulder barely brushed mine, but I felt it everywhere. My skin was hot and tingling. My thoughts swirled in every direction except logic.
He didn’t look at me. He just stared ahead like this was routine, like this happened all the time.
Maybe it did.
Maybe I was just another girl getting into his car, melting under his gaze, saying yes when I should’ve said no.
Still, I didn’t speak.
Didn’t ask his name.
Didn’t give mine.
It felt safer not to.
The car finally pulled to a stop in front of a hotel so sleek, I almost swallowed my tongue.
The kind of place celebrities posted about on i********:. It had gold-trimmed glass doors and a uniformed man who opened them without blinking.
Jason said nothing as we walked through the lobby. The staff didn’t even flinch. It was like they knew him. Like this wasn’t strange at all.
The elevator was too quiet. My pulse pounded in my ears. I could feel the heat radiating from him, but he didn’t touch me again, not yet.
He just stood beside me like a shadow in a tailored suit.
When the elevator dinged at the top floor, I barely remembered how to breathe.
He walked to the door at the end of the hall and slid the keycard in.
I followed like gravity wouldn’t let me do anything else.
The suite was massive—sleek, dimly lit, breathtaking. I barely had time to admire it before he turned to face me.
His eyes pinned me in place.
Then he asked, voice low, almost a challenge, “You sure you want to be here?”
My lips parted. “Yes.”
He took a step closer. “I don’t do soft.”
“I don’t want soft.”
His eyes darkened.
Another step. Then another.
And when he kissed me this time, it was slower. Deeper. His hands tangled in my hair, then dropped to my waist, pulling me against his body like he was claiming me piece by piece.
I gasped as his mouth traveled down my neck.
It wasn’t just lust. It was something else. Something wild and barely restrained.
We moved to the bed without words.
Fingers tangled with fabric, breath tangled with breath. My heart felt like it was breaking open from nerves and adrenaline.
“I’ve never done this before,” I whispered.
He paused.
His gaze locked on mine. For the first time, something flickered in his expression. A tiny fracture in his control.
He nodded once. No softness. No apologies.
Just a murmured, “Then I’ll make sure it’s something you’ll never forget.”
He undressed me slowly, like he wanted to memorize every inch of me. And when he touched me, it was like he already knew the blueprint of my body.
He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t make promises.
He just devoured me.
And I let him.
All night blurred into heat, breath, his name whispered like a secret I didn’t know I knew.
Morning light spilled through the windows.
I woke up tangled in unfamiliar sheets, limbs aching, body flushed. His side of the bed was empty. The space beside me is still warm.
I sat up slowly, head pounding.
Then I heard the sound of running water from the bathroom.
He was still here.
But as I glanced at my phone, panic hit me like a train.
It was 6:47 a.m.
I had an interview today. A last-chance one.
And I was in a stranger’s hotel suite, naked, hungover, and officially spiraling.
I scrambled out of bed, found my dress on the floor, and fumbled to pull it on. No bra. No panties. No dignity.
As I shoved my heels on, I froze at the sound of the bathroom door creaking open.
He stood there.
Wet hair. Towel slung low on his hips. Bare chest sculpted like sin.
And then those eyes.
He looked at me like he hadn’t expected me to still be here. Or maybe he had, and just didn’t care.
I opened my mouth to speak, to say thank you or goodbye or please forget me.
But he beat me to it.
“Don’t forget your shoes.”
He tossed one at my feet.
Cold.
Flat.
Unbothered.
Like none of last night had meant anything.
And just like that, whatever butterflies I had?
They turned to ashes.
But what neither of us knew… was that last night wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning.
- Writer
