Chapter 17
1126 Words
A dangerous silence settled between them.
Nicholas’s fingers were still under her chin, his grip firm—possessive.
His eyes darkened, unreadable, calculating her next move.
But Elara didn’t flinch.
Didn’t waver.
Instead, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them until their bodies were nearly touching.
Her fingers skimmed up his arm, slow, deliberate—challenging.
"Tell me, Wolfe," she murmured, voice like silk, "if you set the trap… why does it feel like you’re the one caught in it?"
Nicholas let out a slow, dark chuckle.
"Careful, sweetheart," he warned, his fingers tracing just under her jaw, featherlight.
"Careful of what?" Elara tilted her head slightly, letting the moment stretch, letting the tension coiled between them tighten.
Nicholas leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "Of thinking you can play with fire—"
His other hand suddenly gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him—hard, unyielding.
"—and not get burned."
Elara’s pulse slammed against her ribs.
But she didn’t pull away.
Didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.
Instead, she smirked.
"And what if I like the burn?"
Nicholas stilled.
Just for a second.
Then—his grip tightened. Fast. Rough. Possessive.
His fingers dug into her waist, his lips grazing the shell of her ear as he murmured—
"Then you’re in bigger trouble than you realize."
Elara’s breath hitched.
Her nails curled against his chest, her own body betraying her.
She should stop this.
She should be the one in control.
But Nicholas Wolfe wasn’t a man who let anyone hold control for long.
And she could feel it—the shift.
The way he was slowly, effortlessly, turning the game back in his favor.
So she did the only thing she could do.
She flipped the script.
Before he could react, she leaned in—her lips barely grazing his, teasing, testing.
Then, she whispered against his mouth—
"Prove it."
A challenge.
A dare.
And Nicholas Wolfe never walked away from a challenge.
His grip tightened like iron.
His patience snapped.
And then—he moved.
Fast. Ruthless. Unstoppable.
And Elara never stood a chance.
The second Nicholas moved, Elara felt it—the shift in power.
One moment, she was teasing, testing, baiting him.
The next—he had her.
His hand tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His heat, his strength, his sheer presence overwhelmed her senses.
"You shouldn’t have said that," he murmured against her lips—dark, dangerous, full of promise.
And then—he kissed her.
Not soft. Not gentle. Not hesitant.
Nicholas Wolfe kissed like a man who had just won a war.
Like a man who didn’t take what was given.
He took what was already his.
Elara’s breath hitched, her body instantly betraying her.
She should push him away.
Should remind him that she was the one who invited him here—that she was the one setting the rules tonight.
But the second his lips claimed hers, demanding, punishing, addictive—
Every thought vanished.
Her fingers tangled into his shirt, gripping tight, like she needed to hold onto something before she lost herself completely.
Nicholas felt it. Knew it.
And he made sure she knew it too.
His lips dragged down her jaw, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "Still think you’re in control, sweetheart?"
Elara’s nails dug into his chest, forcing herself to breathe—forcing herself to remember that this was still a game.
And if Nicholas thought she would surrender that easily—
He had no idea who he was dealing with.
Elara exhaled shakily, forcing her smirk back into place as she tilted her head, exposing her neck deliberately.
"You tell me, Wolfe," she whispered.
And then—she moved.
Before he could react, she flipped their positions, shoving him back against the counter.
Nicholas let out a low, sharp chuckle, his hands gripping her hips as he stared down at her, eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered desire.
But there was something else in them, too.
Something more dangerous.
More calculating.
Like he was letting her play her little game…
Because he already knew how it would end.
Elara leaned in, her breath teasing the corner of his lips as she whispered, "You’re not the only one who knows how to play, Wolfe."
Nicholas smirked.
And then—he moved again.
This time, she never stood a chance.
The moment Nicholas moved, Elara knew—she was losing this battle.
Fast.
She barely had time to react before he flipped the script again.
In a single, effortless motion, he spun them around, trapping her between him and the counter.
Hard. Unyielding. Unescapable.
Her breath caught, but she refused to let it show.
She refused to let him see that he was getting to her.
That the way his body caged hers in, the way his heat wrapped around her like a vice, was making it hard to think.
Hard to breathe.
But Nicholas?
Nicholas wasn’t fooled.
His lips brushed the corner of her jaw, slow, deliberate. "Tell me, sweetheart," he murmured, voice a dark caress, "what exactly was your plan here?"
Elara’s nails bit into his chest, forcing herself to smirk.
"Wouldn’t you like to know?" she taunted.
Nicholas let out a low, wicked chuckle.
"Oh, I already know."
His fingers skated down her side, lingering at her waist, tracing the thin fabric of her dress.
"You thought you could tempt me. Make me lose control. Turn this into your game."
His grip suddenly tightened, possessive, dominant.
"Problem is, Elara…" His lips barely grazed her skin, his voice nothing but a dangerous whisper.
"You were playing against someone who doesn’t lose."
Elara’s pulse slammed.
Damn him.
Damn him for knowing exactly how to break her apart.
She had started this game.
Had been the one setting the trap.
So how the hell had Nicholas Wolfe flipped the board so effortlessly?
Elara exhaled shakily, forcing her lips into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
"That’s cute, Wolfe," she whispered, her fingers skimming up his arm, deliberate, taunting. "But you seem to have forgotten something."
Nicholas tilted his head, amused. "And what’s that?"
Elara leaned in, so close their lips almost brushed.
Then—she moved.
Fast.
Before Nicholas could react, she grabbed his wrist, twisting just enough to break free from his hold.
Then, with one fluid motion—she slipped past him.
Nicholas stilled.
His body didn’t move.
But when he turned to face her—his smirk was gone.
His eyes burned with something much, much darker.
Something dangerous.
Something possessive.
Elara swallowed hard.
Shit.
She had pushed him.
And she knew—she was about to pay for it.
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