beyond the Bar

chapter 3

My eyes misted as I caught the smirk tugging at his lips. He was enjoying this—every second of my trembling hesitation—and it sent a shiver down my spine. My courage faltered, and I felt like I was losing control.

Being close to Irish was dangerous in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The way he looked at me, like I was something forbidden yet irresistible, made my heart race. Was I really ready to let him into my life… into me?

His smirk deepened as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. His fingers trailed up my skin, slow and teasing, until they brushed over my n****e. My body reacted before my mind could catch up—every nerve came alive.

He kissed my earlobe, his voice husky and low.

> “Rosa, if you let me claim you tonight, remember this—your body, your soul, everything you are... will be mine. No man will ever touch what belongs to me. You’ll be mine, forever.”

His words were possessive, dangerous… yet intoxicating. My heart pounded so fast I thought it might burst. Fear tangled with desire, and I couldn’t tell which was stronger. I wanted to push him away, but my body betrayed me—every breath, every sigh, drew me closer.

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable.

> “Miss Rosa,” he murmured, his thumb tracing my cheek, “are you having second thoughts?”

His hand slid down the curve of my back, and a soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

> “Irish…” I breathed.

He smiled that dangerous smile again.

> “There’s no going back, Rosa. I can see the hesitation in your eyes… but for now—just feel.”

His fingers brushed the strap of my mini gown, sending electric chills racing through me. I knew what was coming. I should’ve stopped it. But when he lifted me into his arms—strong, sure, like I was something fragile and precious—all my doubts melted away.

He cradled me like a bride… and for the first time, I didn’t want to run.Irish’s POV

I’ve been watching her for months.

The way she walks into my bar, confident yet innocent, sipping her Strawberry Lips cocktail like it’s a secret she’s daring the world to discover. Every time her tongue slips out to taste the rim of the glass, I swear the air changes.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me.

Or maybe she does.

Every time I visit Atlas, my eyes find her — the girl with fire in her gaze and danger written all over her smile. She looks at me like she’s trying to solve a riddle, but little does she know… she’s playing with one.

When someone captures my attention, it’s not just a passing glance — it’s a contract with the devil himself.

So I did what I do best. I found out everything.

Roselyn Montio. Nineteen.

Law student at Harvard. Lives with her rich aunt who spoils her like a princess.

Everything about her screamed perfection — except one thing.

What was a nineteen-year-old doing in Atlas, a bar with a strict twenty-one age limit?

Something didn’t add up.

And that only made me want her more.

When she finally approached me that night — cheeks flushed, her friends giggling behind her — I almost laughed. They’d clearly dared her to do it. But the way she looked up at me, her voice trembling yet steady, made something in me shift.

I played it cool. Smirked. Took a sip of my drink.

To everyone else, I was just the owner chatting with a customer. But inside, I was already breaking my own rules.

Business is about control.

But with Roselyn... control started to slip.

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Now, as I hovered above her, the world around us faded. The soft glow of candles bathed her skin in gold. Her breath hitched as I leaned closer, brushing my lips against hers — gentle, testing, like a secret I wasn’t sure I was allowed to tell.

The kiss deepened, slow and desperate all at once. Every thought, every wall I’d built over the years, came crashing down with every beat of our hearts.

Her fingers tangled in my hair; mine traced the outline of her jaw. The air between us felt alive — electric, dangerous, inevitable.

When we finally broke apart, I rested my forehead against hers.

> “You’re beautiful, Roselyn,” I whispered.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, eyes shining.

> “You’re not so bad yourself, Irish,” she breathed.

We laughed softly, breaths still uneven. I felt her hand against my chest, her heartbeat syncing with mine.

> “I want you,” she whispered.

The words hung in the air — fragile, honest, and impossible to ignore.

I smiled, my voice low.

> “Careful what you wish for, mi reina. When I want something… I don’t let go.”

And just like that, the night swallowed our words, leaving only the rhythm of two hearts — daring, wanting, and falling into something that neither of us was ready for.