CHAPTER THREE:JUST SKIN AND SIN
1061 Words
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It began with a whisper.
Warm breath at the back of her neck. A low voice, deep and decadent, murmuring her name like a secret prayer.
> "Eden."
Hands — large, commanding — slid down her arms, slow and sure, like they owned her. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. She felt him.
Cassian.
He pressed against her from behind, all heat and hardness, lips grazing the curve of her jaw.
> "You walked right into hell, dove. Why pretend you don’t want to burn?"
She gasped — and his hand slid down her stomach, teasing the edge of her panties.
“I shouldn’t,” she whispered, breathless.
“You already did.”
He turned her to face him. He looked like a sin sculpted in flesh — tie loose, shirt undone, eyes dark with hunger. She opened her mouth to speak, but his thumb dragged slowly across her lower lip.
> "You want me to stop, say it."
She couldn’t.
Instead, she kissed him — hard, desperate, like she was starving and he was made of fire and oxygen. His mouth crushed hers, and he pushed her back against his desk, sweeping papers to the floor.
“Cassian—”
“Say my name like that again and I’ll—”
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The alarm shattered the dream.
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✦
Eden shot up in bed, skin flushed, chest heaving.
Sheets tangled around her legs, sweat dampening the small of her back. Her thighs clenched involuntarily, heat pulsing between them — traitorous and soaked.
Her eyes widened. What the hell—
She shoved the sheets off and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to catch her breath.
> It was just a dream. Just a dream. Just...
But it hadn’t felt like one. Her body remembered the pressure of his fingers. The weight of his voice. The way her name had sounded in his mouth.
She swallowed hard and glanced at the time.
6:03 a.m.
Great. Now she had to face him — the real him — after moaning his name in her sleep like a sinner.
---
✦
Cassian was half-dressed.
Eden hadn’t meant to walk in on him like that — not when she was already fighting to erase the memory of his hands on her in her dreams. But fate clearly had a sense of humor.
She’d been told to deliver files to his private executive suite — the one few people entered without an invitation.
The door was cracked open.
She knocked softly. “Mr. Blackwood?”
No answer.
She peeked in.
And promptly lost the ability to speak.
Cassian stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, shirtless, just finishing a fresh change. His back was turned as he pulled a crisp white shirt over his torso, muscles shifting, skin taut and golden in the morning light. A scar carved a wicked s***h across his left shoulder blade.
He was halfway through buttoning the shirt when he noticed her.
He didn’t rush.
“You’re early,” he said, still calm.
“I—I knocked. I didn’t think you’d be... dressing.”
He turned to face her, slow and deliberate. His shirt now hung open, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar undone.
“Comfortable with the view?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
“I just—Ms. Keene sent me. With the legal briefing.”
He walked to her, took the file from her trembling hands, and studied her face.
“Relax, Miss Haven. It’s just skin.”
Just skin?
She spun around before her face betrayed everything her dream had stirred up.
Behind her, Cassian watched her go — jaw tight, knuckles flexing.
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✦
By midday, Eden was summoned again — this time to a closed-door meeting.
Ms. Keene greeted her with her usual chilly tone. “You’ve been assigned to assist Mr. Blackwood directly on a high-priority client. You’ll attend all briefings, take notes, manage communication, and potentially travel with him.”
Eden blinked. “Travel?”
“Occasionally. You’ve been cleared.”
“But why me?”
Keene looked at her for a beat too long.
“Blackwood doesn’t choose anyone by accident.”
---
✦
When the workday finally slowed, Eden tried to distract herself with tasks. But every flicker of Cassian in her periphery — every flash of a sleeve or tilt of his voice in the hallway — made her stomach clench.
Then he appeared beside her cubicle.
“Come with me.”
No explanation. No context. Just authority and expectation.
She followed him to a smaller private office space near his suite. Inside, he adjusted his cuffs in the mirror before turning to her.
“Collar’s uneven.”
Before she could protest, he stepped forward and reached out — hands cool, precise, brushing the skin just below her throat as he straightened the edge of her blouse.
The touch was professional. Barely.
But her body reacted like he’d kissed her.
Her breath hitched.
So did his.
He paused — just a second too long — then stepped back.
“Better,” he said softly.
Eden turned to leave. She was halfway to the door when she heard it — so faint, she could’ve imagined it:
> “I should not want this.”
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✦
That evening, Eden stayed behind to finish up Cassian’s briefing notes. She liked the quiet. It helped her remember who she was.
But when she reached for the last stack of case files, one slim red-tabbed folder slid loose.
She wasn’t supposed to open it.
But her name was on the list of cleared staff. And curiosity, it seemed, hadn’t died with Eve.
She flipped it open.
And froze.
Halfway down the second page:
> Subject: Elijah Haven
Status: Monitored — Potential risk. Tier 3 exposure.
Her father.
Her breath caught.
What the hell did Blackwood & Co. want with her father?
Before she could read more, she heard the low, unmistakable voice behind her:
“You weren’t meant to see that.”
She turned.
Cassian stood in the doorway, unreadable. Still. Watching.
“Why is my father’s name in your private files?” she asked, throat dry.
He stepped inside, slowly.
His voice was soft. Too soft.
> “Because not everything in your past is as holy as you think, Miss Haven.”
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- Writer
