CHAPTER 7
696 Words
The rain clawed at the kitchen windows like a thousand desperate fingers, but inside the dark, cavernous space of the Kingston estate, the only sound that mattered was the ragged cadence of our breathing.
Ethan’s hands remained anchored on the marble kitchen island, framing my hips, locking me in place. The cold stone pressed against my lower back, but in front of me, the heat radiating from his bare chest was a physical, dizzying force. The scent of him, cedarwood, amber, and the clean, rain-damp scent of his skin, flooded my senses, completely sweeping away the rules we had so carefully laid out just hours ago.
"Ethan," I breathed, my voice barely a tremor in the dark. "You're too close."
"Then push me away," he rasped, his grey eyes catching a sudden flash of lightning from the skylight. The brief, stark illumination carved his jawline into sharp, dangerous angles. "You did it in the office when my father was at the door. You did it at the dining table. Do it now, Aurora."
My fingers curled tighter into the soft fabric of his sweatpants at his hips. I wanted to push him. I wanted to be the sensible, mature stepsister who respected the fragile, newly blended family our parents were trying so desperately to build, but my body was a traitor. My palms flattened against his warm, bare chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thudding of his heart. It matched the chaotic rhythm of mine.
"I can't," I whispered, the confession tearing from my throat before I could stop it.
A dark, low growl vibrated in Ethan's chest. The rigid, cold corporate executive vanished entirely, replaced by the raw, hungry stranger from the masquerade. He closed the remaining distance, his chest pressing flush against mine, trapping my hands between us. One of his hands slid off the marble, his long, warm fingers wrapping securely around the back of my neck, his thumb sweeping along my jawline to tilt my face upward.
"Good," he muttered against my lips. "Because I'm tired of pretending I don't remember how you taste."
When his mouth met mine, it wasn't a gentle ask. It was a demand, it was the explosive release of weeks of forced silence, of polite dinner conversations, and of stolen, agonizing glances across boardroom tables. His lips were hot, firm, and possessively parting mine, claiming me with a desperation that made my knees buckle. I let out a soft whimpering sigh into his mouth, my arms wrapping around his neck, my fingers tangling in the thick, dark silk of his hair.
He pulled me flush against his hard frame, his other hand gripping my waist, lifting me slightly until I was arched into him. The sheer intensity of the kiss made the rest of the world blur into nothingness. There was no mansion, no upcoming wedding, no corporate hierarchy. There was only the storm outside and the fire consuming us in the dark.
His tongue slid against mine, tasting of the cool water I had just drank and a dark, intoxicating heat that belonged entirely to him. I whimpered, clinging to his shoulders as he pressed me harder against the edge of the island, his hips crowding mine in a way that left no doubt about what he wanted.
…but just as the fire threatened to consume us entirely, a sudden, piercing sound shattered the quiet of the house.
The security system's main alarm panel in the foyer began to chime a high-pitched, rhythmic warning.
Ethan froze, his lips tearing away from mine, though his forehead remained pressed against mine. His chest rose and fell in ragged heaves, his grip on my waist tightening until it was almost painful.
"Ethan," I whispered, my eyes wide in the darkness, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What is that?"
"The perimeter gate," he muttered, his voice thick and rough with unsatisfied tension. He slowly let me down, his hands lingering on my hips as if he couldn't bear to let me go. "Someone just bypassed the front keypad."
Before I could reply, the heavy glass window in the formal living room down the hall shattered with a deafening, violent crash.
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