Chapter 10
547 Words
Adrian's POV
“What… what is it?” she whispered.
“My world,” I said, deliberately vague. Dangerous. Irresistible.
And despite the fear, despite every warning her mind shouted, she said, “Okay.”
Perfect.
The elevator ride to my penthouse was silent, but the tension between us was deafening. Aria stood beside me, her reflection caught in the polished doors, wide eyes, flushed cheeks, hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was nervous. Good. She should be.
"Adrian," she said softly as we ascended, "what exactly is your world?"
I glanced at her, considering how much truth she could handle. "Power," I said simply. "Control." Things most people only read about.
The doors opened to reveal my domain floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, modern art that cost more than most people's houses, furniture that whispered money and danger. She stepped out slowly, taking it all in.
"This is..." She paused, searching for words. "This is incredible."
"This is nothing," I said, walking to the bar. I poured two glasses of wine, something expensive, something that would help her relax. "Would you like to see the real view?"
She nodded, accepting the glass with trembling fingers. I led her to the windows, standing close enough that she could feel my presence, my heat.
The city sprawled below us, lights twinkling like stars. "I own pieces of it," I said quietly, my breath near her ear. "Hotels. Restaurants. Businesses that run this city's heartbeat.
Her breath caught. "That's... that's a lot of responsibility."
"Responsibility." I smiled, dark and knowing. "That's one word for it."
She turned to look at me, and I saw it the moment she truly understood who I was. The fear flickered in her eyes, but beneath it was something else. Fascination. Desire.
"Are you afraid of me, Aria?"
She was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. "I should be," she whispered.
"But you're not."
"No," she said, barely audible. "I'm not."
That honesty, that brave vulnerability it broke something loose in my chest. I set down my wine glass and stepped closer, my hand finding her waist.
"Do you know what you're doing to me?" I asked, my voice rough with restraint I was rapidly losing.
She shook her head, but her body said otherwise, leaning into my touch, pulse racing beneath my fingers.
"Every time you look at me like that," I continued, my thumb tracing her jawline, "every time you tremble under my hands, every time you say my name... you're playing with fire."
"Maybe I want to get burned," she whispered.
That did it. My control snapped.
I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her, not gentle like at the restaurant, but hungry, demanding. She melted into me, her soft moan sending heat straight through my veins.
My hands found the zipper of her dress, pausing. "Tell me to stop," I said against her lips, "and I will."
Her answer was to kiss me harder, her fingers clutching my shirt.
Slowly, deliberately, I drew the zipper down, letting the dress pool at her feet. She was beautiful curves and shadows in the city light, trembling but not from cold.
"You're perfect," I murmured, leading her to the couch where this all began. "And you're mine."
- Writer
