Chapter 1: The Collision

Ava Sinclair smoothed down the front of her little black dress for the tenth time. The silky fabric clung to her curves like a second skin. It hugged her full breasts, nipped in at her waist, and flared just enough over her hips to make walking feel dangerous. She was not used to this level of elegance. Her usual uniform consisted of jeans and a cute top from whatever fast fashion site had a sale.

Tonight was Emma Blackwood’s twenty fourth birthday party. The venue screamed old money mixed with new billions. It was a rooftop terrace overlooking the glittering Chicago skyline. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead. A live jazz band played earlier before giving way to a DJ. Waiters carried trays of champagne that probably cost more than Ava’s monthly rent.

“Stop fidgeting. You look fucking hot,” Emma said. She looped her arm through Ava’s. Emma’s blonde hair cascaded in perfect waves. Her red dress was even shorter and tighter. “This is my night. But I am sharing the spotlight with my favorite partner in crime.”

Ava laughed and forced herself to relax. “Just do not let me embarrass you in front of your fancy family. I still cannot believe your brother actually showed up.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Damon? He probably flew in on his private jet just to make an appearance and leave. Mr. Billionaire does not do family parties unless there is a business deal hiding somewhere. But hey, at least the eye candy is worth it.”

Ava’s stomach did a little flip at the mention of Damon Blackwood. She had seen pictures. Emma had shown her plenty. But nothing prepared her for the real thing. He was tall, dark haired, and built like a Greek god who spent his free time punishing heavy weights and closing nine figure deals. Cold blue eyes that could freeze hell. A jawline sharp enough to cut glass. And a reputation for devouring women and discarding them before breakfast.

Off limits, Ava reminded herself sternly. Best friend’s older brother. Walking red flag.

The party swirled around them. Laughter filled the air. Glasses clinked. The low thrum of bass vibrated from the DJ who had just taken over. Ava sipped her champagne. The bubbles tickled her tongue. Then the air shifted.

He was here.

Damon Blackwood stepped onto the rooftop like he owned the entire city. His black tailored shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. Sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms corded with veins. His dark hair was styled in that effortlessly messy way that probably cost hundreds at a salon. He scanned the crowd with predatory focus. When his gaze landed on Emma, a rare half smile touched his lips.

But then those piercing blue eyes slid sideways and locked directly onto Ava.

Time slowed. Heat crawled up her neck. It pooled between her thighs in a sudden, embarrassing rush. His stare dragged down her body. Slow. Deliberate. Lingering on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the way the dress rode up her thighs. When his eyes returned to hers, something dark and hungry flickered there. Ava’s nipples tightened against the thin fabric. She pressed her thighs together. She was shocked at how quickly her body responded.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“Damon!” Emma squealed. She dragged Ava forward before she could escape. “You made it!”

Damon pulled his sister into a brief hug. But his attention never fully left Ava. Up close, he was overwhelming. Tall. Easily six three. Broad shoulders. A clean, masculine scent that made her want to lean in and inhale. Expensive cologne mixed with something warmer. More primal.

“Emma,” he said. His voice was low and smooth like aged whiskey. “Happy birthday.” His gaze flicked back to Ava. “And who is this?”

Ava’s mouth went dry. Up close, his eyes were not just blue. They were stormy. Flecked with silver. He extended a hand. When she took it, electricity shot straight to her core. His palm was large. Warm. Slightly calloused. His grip lingered a second too long. His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a way that felt anything but innocent.

“Ava Sinclair,” she managed. She was proud that her voice did not shake. “Emma’s best friend. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Finally?” One dark eyebrow arched. His lips curved into a smirk that should be illegal. “Emma talks about you constantly. I was starting to think you were a myth.”

Emma laughed. “She is real. And she is the only one who can keep up with me. Ava, behave. I need to say hi to some cousins before they get drunk and start telling embarrassing stories.”

Emma vanished into the crowd. She left Ava standing alone with the most dangerous man she had ever met.

Damon did not step back. If anything, he moved closer. He towered over her. His body heat wrapped around her like a caress. “You look uncomfortable in that dress,” he murmured. His voice dropped so only she could hear. “Or maybe it is just me making you feel that way.”

Ava’s breath hitched. Bold. Arrogant. Exactly what she expected. “I am fine,” she shot back. She tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. “Though I have heard you have a talent for making women uncomfortable.”

His low chuckle vibrated through her. “Only the ones worth the effort.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then lower again. It traced the neckline of her dress where her cleavage rose and fell with each quick breath. “That dress is criminal on you, Ava. It makes a man want to peel it off slowly or rip it in half.”

Heat flooded her face and lower. She could feel herself getting wet. Her pussy clenched at the filthy image his words painted. Her clit throbbed with sudden need. She crossed her arms over her chest. It was a weak attempt to hide how her nipples had pebbled into hard points.

“You are very direct,” she said. She tried to sound casual. It came out breathy instead.

“I do not waste time on games.” Damon stepped even closer. His chest nearly brushed hers. “I see something I want. I take it.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. She could imagine those big hands on her body. Gripping her hips. Spreading her thighs. Thrusting deep while she moaned his name. God, she needed to get a grip. This was Emma’s brother. The one man she had sworn to avoid.

A waiter passed by with more champagne. Damon grabbed two flutes and handed her one. Their fingers touched again. Another spark. Ava took a long sip. The alcohol warmed her from the inside. It did nothing to cool the fire building between her legs.

“Tell me about yourself, Ava,” he said. He leaned against the railing. The city lights reflected in his eyes. “Emma says you are in marketing. Creative. Driven. Single.”

The last word hung in the air like a challenge. Ava swallowed hard. “She talks too much. Yes, I work in marketing. It pays the bills. Barely. And yes, I am single. Not that it is any of your business.”

Damon’s smile turned predatory. “Everything about you is my business tonight.” He reached out. His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her shoulder. The touch was light. But it burned.

Ava’s heart pounded. She could smell him. Feel the heat radiating from his skin. Her mind screamed warnings about loyalty and consequences. But her body wanted to press against him. To feel that hard chest. Those strong thighs. To let him lift her dress right here and slide his fingers into her dripping pussy.

“I should go find Emma,” she whispered. But she did not move.

Damon chuckled softly. “Running already? I thought you were the one who could keep up.” His hand lingered near her arm. Not quite touching. Teasing. “Stay. Have a drink with me. Tell me why a woman like you is wasting her time with my sister’s crowd instead of being worshiped properly.”

Worshiped.

The word sent fresh heat flooding through her core. She imagined him on his knees. That arrogant mouth devouring her. Tongue flicking her clit while she gripped his hair and came hard.

The party noise faded into the background. It was just them. This insane chemistry crackling like electricity before a storm. Ava knew she should walk away. But her feet stayed planted. Her gaze locked on his full lips. Wondering how they would feel sucking on her nipples. Biting her neck. Claiming her mouth while he fucked her senseless.

A sudden burst of laughter from nearby broke the spell. Emma was waving from across the terrace. “Ava! Come here! You have to meet these idiots!”

Ava exhaled shakily. Saved by the best friend. For now. “Duty calls,” she said. She forced a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Damon.”

She turned to leave. But his voice stopped her. Low. Promising. “This is not over, Ava. Not by a long shot. I always get what I want. And right now, I want you screaming my name.”

Her pussy clenched again at the words. She walked away on unsteady legs. Her mind raced with forbidden images. Damon’s hands everywhere. His cock stretching her. Filling her. Making her forget every reason why this was a terrible idea.

The night was young. But Ava already knew one thing for certain. Staying away from Damon Blackwood was going to be impossible. And the thought terrified her as much as it excited her.