The air in the mansion was heavy that night, thick with the weight of everything unspoken. I had retreated to the balcony, silk robe draped lazily over my shoulders, wine glass in hand. The city lights sparkled below, but the real fire burned behind me—him.
I felt his presence before I heard him, the way the hairs on my neck prickled, the way my pulse quickened despite myself. His footsteps were low, deliberate, predatory.
“You’re driving me insane,” his voice rumbled, deep and rough, like thunder caught in a man’s chest.
I didn’t turn. I sipped my wine instead, my lips grazing the rim. “Good. It means I’m doing something right.”
In a flash, his hand was on my waist, spinning me around, pressing me back against the cold railing. His body caged mine, his face so close that I could feel
