Chapter 3
1340 Words
His breath was warm against her lips. The command, the plea, the final thread of his control, hung between them. Tell me to stop.
The words were a trap and a test, and every sensible, self-preserving instinct in Sophia’s body screamed at her to use them. To push him away. To retreat to the safe, predictable world of timelines and floral arrangements. But that world felt a million miles away, bleached of all colour and sensation compared to the storm of him.
Her voice, when it finally came, was a husky whisper, a surrender, and a taunt all at once. “Why would I do a foolish thing like that?”
It was all the permission he needed. A low, guttural sound escaped him, a feral acknowledgement of her defiance, and then his mouth was on hers.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claim.
His lips were firm and demanding, moving over hers with a confidence that stole the air from her lungs. He tasted of expensive whiskey and mint and something wild, something untamed that resonated with the part of her she kept locked away. Her hands, which had been clenched at her sides, flew up of their own volition, her fingers tangling in the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck. She felt him shudder against her, a full-body tremor at her touch, and a thrill of power shot through her.
He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping past her lips, and the world dissolved into a vortex of sensation. The hard planes of his chest pressed against her, the silk of his waistcoat a cool contrast to the heat radiating from his body. One of his hands slid from her jaw down the column of her throat, his thumb resting in the hollow at its base, feeling the frantic, rabbit-quick pulse there. The other hand splayed against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, erasing the last inch of space between them.
She was drowning in him. In the scent of his cologne, the taste of his mouth, the sheer, overwhelming maleness of him. Her carefully constructed walls, the ones built with the bricks of past heartbreak and a fierce determination to never be vulnerable again, crumbled into dust. There was no room for thought, only feel.
When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing raggedly. He rested his forehead against hers, his stormy grey eyes holding hers, dark and dilated with a desire so intense it was almost frightening.
“I knew it,” he breathed, his voice ragged. “I knew you would taste like fire.”
His gaze dropped, trailing over her face, down her neck, to where the emerald green silk of her dress hugged her curves. A slow, predatory smile touched his lips. “And this dress… it’s been a beautiful, tormenting obstacle all night.”
His fingers, which had been at her back, came around to her side, finding the delicate zipper hidden in the seam. He didn’t pull it. Not yet. He simply traced the line of it with the very tip of one finger, from the middle of her spine up to her shoulder blade. The touch was whisper-light, a ghost of a caress through the fabric, and yet it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight through her. Her breath hitched.
“Adrian…” His name was a question, a protest, a plea. She didn’t know what she was asking for.
“Shhh,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple. “Just this. Let me just… look.”
His hands went to her shoulders, turning her slowly, gently, until her back was to him. She felt exposed, vulnerable, her heart pounding against her ribs. He gathered the heavy fall of her hair in one hand and swept it over her shoulder, baring her back and the length of the zipper to him. She felt his heat at her back, a solid, comforting presence.
Then, the cool metal of the zipper tab touched her skin as he began to lower it. The sound was obscenely loud in the quiet room, a slow, deliberate whirr that seemed to go on forever. He took his time, his knuckles brushing against her spine with every fraction of an inch he descended, a torturous, exquisite friction. She closed her eyes, her entire being focused on that tiny point of contact, on the achingly slow reveal of her skin to the cool penthouse air and his heated gaze.
The zipper reached its end. The dress, suddenly loose, gaped open, and the straps slipped from her shoulders. She clutched at the front, holding the bodice to her chest, but the entirety of her back was bare to him, from the elegant line of her neck down to the swell of her hips.
His breath caught. “My God, Sophia.”
His hands—warm, strong, and slightly rough—settled on her bare shoulders. He traced the line of her collarbone, his thumbs pressing into the tight muscles there, and she melted backwards into his touch with a soft, involuntary moan. He kneaded the tension away, his touch becoming both possessive and reverent. He skimmed his palms down her spine, feeling her shiver violently under his hands.
“You are even more breathtaking than I imagined,” he whispered into her ear, his voice thick with awe and desire. “Every inch of you.”
He turned her back around to face him. The dress, without its fastening, threatened to pool at her feet. She held it up, her whiskey-colored eyes wide, her lips still swollen from his kiss. He looked utterly captivated, his gaze drinking her in—the flush on her chest, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts barely concealed by the green silk she clutched, the nervous yet hungry look in her eyes.
He cupped her face again, his thumb stroking her lower lip. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
This kiss was different. Softer. MoreExploratory. It was a slow, deep exploration that spoke of a craving that went beyond the physical, a need to uncover every secret, every hidden corner of her soul. She surrendered to it completely, her hands letting go of the dress to fist in the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
The emerald silk, finally free, whispered a sigh as it slid down her body and puddled in a luxurious heap on the polished concrete floor.
He broke the kiss, his eyes darkening as he looked his fill. She stood before him in only a simple set of black lace, feeling more exposed than if she were completely naked. His gaze was a physical caress, heating her skin everywhere it landed. A faint, self-conscious tremor went through her, but she held his gaze, a new kind of boldness rising within her.
A slow, devastating smile spread across his face. “There she is,” he murmured. “The real Sophia Bennett.”
He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. His hands spanned her waist, his fingers skimming the top of her lace panties. “Now it’s my turn to unravel.”
His mouth travelled down the side of her neck, along her shoulder, to the delicate lace edge of her bra. He placed a searing kiss there, right over her frantic heartbeat. His fingers found the clasp at her back.
The metallic click was soft, but to Sophia, it sounded like a gunshot. The structure of the garment loosened.
He didn’t remove it. Not yet. He simply held it there, his forehead resting against hers once more, his breathing as ragged as her own. The anticipation was a live wire between them, sparking and dangerous.
“Tell me what you want, Sophia,” he commanded softly, his voice a rough caress. “I need to hear you say it.”
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