CHAPTER 3.AMBER
938 Words
I could feel the heat radiating off him the closer I got.
As the distance closed, the exact shade of his eyes became clear, a piercing, storm-grey that seemed to lock onto me like a target.
He was wearing a tailored charcoal suit that screamed
old money.
When I stepped into his personal space, the scent of him hit me. It was an intoxicating mix of rich, woody cedar and a sharp hint of fresh mint.
He held a glass of dark amber liquor in one hand, his fingers long and elegant.
I knew I shouldn’t be doing this. But another, louder part of me was completely done playing the helpless, pity-me wife.
I was still young, hot, and undeniably beautiful. I deserved to actually feel alive for once.
“Were you just gonna keep watching, or...?” I muttered, looking up at him.
The moment the words left my mouth, panic flared in my chest. ‘God, was that too forward?’I felt a sudden urge to turn on my heels and bolt back to my friends.
But before I could step back, he moved. He took one slow, deliberate step closer, crowding me into his space.
I swallowed hard. He was toweringly tall, forcing me to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze.
“I was trying to strategize how I would walk up to a very beautiful woman like you,” he replied. His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone that vibrated straight through my skin.
“Hmmm... well, guess who made the first move,” I said, a sudden spark of confidence breaking through my nerves.
A slow, devastating smile touched his lips, and he let out a low chuckle. ‘I made him chuckle.’
Maybe I wasn't as rusty at this as I thought.
But as the laughter faded, the air between us thickened, turning heavy and intense. We stared at each other deeply, like two people searching for something lost in the dark.
For a fleeting second, I saw a wave of profound sadness wash over his eyes.
My gaze dropped from his eyes down to his lips, full and perfectly sculpted, then back up. Without thinking, I slowly licked my lower lip.
“Don’t do that,” he warned softly, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes darkened. “Don’t play those games with me.”
He raised his free hand, his fingers surprisingly warm as they brushed against my cheek. He gently caught a stray strand of my hair, his knuckles scraping my skin as he tucked it behind my ear. His touch sent a violent shiver down my spine.
“What games?” I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He didn't answer right away. His hand lingered on the side of my neck, his thumb resting over my racing pulse.
He searched my face intensely, as if trying to read my darkest secrets. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, sweetie.”
A reckless, alcohol-fueled fire sparked in my belly. I leaned into his touch, tilting my chin up. “Careful... I usually finish twice. And I don’t play games I can’t win.”
‘What the hell was I saying?’ I internally screamed at myself. It had to be the drinks. The pure, unfiltered adrenaline of finally breaking free from Nathaniel's suffocating shadow was making me drunker than the liquor.
I reached out, my hands gripping the expensive fabric of his shirt, and drew him down closer to me.
“God, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Because you won’t be smiling when I prove you wrong.”
He slid his hand down from my neck, his large palm wrapping firmly around my waist. His fingers dug into my hip, pulling me flush against his hard frame until there wasn't a single inch of space left between us.
“Hmmm,” I hummed, a soft gasp escaping my lips.
I was utterly stunned by my own actions tonight, but staring into his eyes, I felt a violent, magnetic spark. It was a raw, primal friction I swear I had never, not even once, felt during my entire sixteen months of marriage.
With Nathaniel, s*x was a rare, clinical chore,
probably once in a while, and honestly, it wasn't all that thrilling.
“Come with me,” he whispered, his grip tightening on my hip just enough to command me.
He didn't wait for an answer. He took my hand, his long fingers locking with mine, and led me away from the lounge toward an isolated, dimly lit hallway lined with heavy mahogany doors.
He gave a sharp, single nod to a massive, stone-faced bodyguard guarding the entrance.
The guard immediately swiped a keycard, opening the door to a sprawling, private VIP suite.
The moment the heavy door clicked shut behind us, the noise of the club was completely cut off.
The room was bathed in dim, amber lighting, furnished with plush velvet couches and a massive, low-profile bed in the center.
I turned around to face him, but before I could even take a breath, he pinned me.
His body slammed against mine, trapping me firmly between the hard wood of the door and the solid, unyielding wall of his chest.
My purse slipped from my fingers, clattering unheeded to the floor. He dropped his glass onto a side table, his eyes burning with an intense, predatory hunger that made my knees turn to water.
“Still think you can win, sweetie?” he murmured, his breath hot against my lips.
- Writer
