The night it burned

ARIANA'S POV. 

He was already on the bed when I leaned back against the pillows. His eyes moved over me like he was memorizing every inch.

"You're trembling," he said softly, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"I'm not," I whispered, though we both knew I was lying.

His hand started at my ankle, the warmth of his palm dragging slow circles over my skin. He slid up to my calf, then the inside of my knee, moving as slow as a snail. "You know I can take my time with you all night," he murmured, his thumb brushing the edge of my thigh. "But you'll beg before I'm done."

"Not a chance," I said, but my voice was already thinner than I wanted.

He bent forward, his lips pressing a soft kiss just above my knee, then another higher up. "I want you to feel every second," he said against my skin.

His fingers spread over my hip, holding me still while he kissed a trail that made my whole body tense. His mouth hovered just over the heat of me, close enough that I could feel his breath, but not close enough to touch.

"Tell me you want it," he said, his voice low and sure.

"I want you," I muttered, almost breathless. 

His smile was slow, wicked. "Then you'll have me."

The first stroke of his tongue was deliberate, a slow, wet drag that made my head tip back and a gasp slip out before I could stop it. He hummed against me, and the vibration made my thighs twitch.

"You taste—" he broke off, licking again, "—so fucking good."

I reached for his hair, threading my fingers in, but he caught my wrist and pinned it to the bed beside me. "No," he said. "Let me work."

And he did—switching between slow swirls and quick, flicking strokes, each one sharper than the last. My breathing grew ragged, my hips trying to move against him until his free hand pressed firmly into my stomach.

"Stay right there for me," he ordered, his voice a low growl now. "I want to feel you break."

My toes curled into the sheets, every nerve focused on the relentless heat of his mouth. "Don't stop," I whispered.

He chuckled against me. "Not until you can't say my name anymore."

The pleasure grew sharper and faster, stealing my breath until it tore through me—my back arching, my voice spilling into the air. He kept going, slower now, drawing every last tremor out of me, until my eyes turned white. 

"Fuck me harder," I muttered. 

I wanted him…I needed him even though it was wrong. I tell myself that we were only humans driven by flesh even though I knew this was the greatest sin recorded in the history of mankind. This was betrayal to everyone around me. But I didn't fucking care…not yet. 

Jaxon was built differently, he was every woman's dream… Literally. He was on all billboard, magazines, news headlines…everything. And he was mine… my father's Boss…my dirty little secret. 

************************************************

Few Years ago. 

The music was pounding so hard it felt like the floor was breathing under my feet. Lights flashed red, blue, purple—blinding and dizzy all at once. 

I was dancing on my own when my boyfriend Micheal came to meet me. 

"Finally," I let out a sigh of relief. I thought they had abandoned or forgotten me in the club. 

"I'm going to the bathroom!" he shouted over the noise.

"What?" I yelled back, even though I knew what he'd said.

"The bathroom!" he repeated, louder this time.

I frowned, my stomach sinking. "I don't want to be left alone. You know this is my first time in a club."

"You'll be fine," he said quickly. "I'll be back soon."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he turned back and quickly disappeared into the crowd. 

I stood there for a moment, clutching my phone, watching the crowd move around me like some chaotic ocean. I wasn't sure if I should follow him or stay put, so I did the only thing that felt less awkward—I kept dancing.

I tried to sway like the other girls, let my hips move in time with the beat, but my movements felt stiff, rehearsed. This was supposed to be fun. A celebration.

Graduating from college was supposed to feel like the start of something big, and Jerry and Riley had insisted on taking me out to "do it right." They'd talked about this club all week, about how it was the best place in town. "One night, Ari," Riley had said, smiling in that way she knew I couldn't say no to. "You, me, and Jerry—we'll make memories."

Now here I was, making memories alone.

I tried to spot Riley in the crowd, but she had vanished too.

A guy slid up beside me, his shirt open too far, reeking of cologne and beer. "Hey," he said, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek. "You look lonely."

"I'm fine," I said, forcing a polite smile and stepping back.

He stepped forward again, his hand brushing my arm. "Come on, just one dance."

"No, thanks."

He laughed like I'd made a joke. His fingers lingered on my skin, like we were some couple. 

"I said no," I repeated, sharper this time.

His smile faltered, but he muttered something under his breath and drifted away, disappearing into the blur of bodies.

I let out a slow breath, my heart beating faster than the music. That was enough dancing for me.

I pulled out my phone again and checked the time. Jerry had been gone at least thirty minutes. So had Riley. My patience snapped.

I pushed my way through the crowd, muttering "sorry" every time someone's shoulder slammed into mine. The hallway to the restrooms smelled like alcohol, perfume, and something stale I didn't want to think about.

I stopped at the entrance to the men's restroom and peeked in.

"Jerry?" I called, ignoring the strange looks from the guys inside.

No answer. No sign of him.

I stepped back out and hit his name in my contacts. The call rang until it went to voicemail. I tried again. Same thing.

Fine. If he didn't want to answer, I'd find him myself.

I started back toward the dance floor, but somewhere between the hallway and the bar, I took a wrong turn. The thumping bass faded, replaced by muffled beats and the hum of quieter conversations. The lighting here was warmer, the air cooler.

A row of closed doors stretched in front of me. Private rooms, maybe?

I called Jerry again. No answer.

I was about to turn around when I spotted a security guard leaning against the wall, arms folded. Jerry claimed he knew more than half of the people in the club and I would be surprised if he didn't. 

Jerry always liked being the center of attention and he liked being the popular guy… like he could kill to get that title. 

"Uh, hey," I said, walking up to him. "I'm looking for my boyfriend—Jerry Thompson."

The guard gave me a slow once-over, then nodded toward the end of the hall. "Last door."

"Thanks," I said, my relief instant.

I walked to the door, my heels clicking on the floor. My hand hovered over the handle for a second. For some reason, my stomach felt tight, but I told myself I was just being silly.

I turned the knob and pushed it open. 

Riley was there, her back arched, her hair falling over her face as she moved on top of a man. I froze. My brain didn't know whether to process the scene or just slam the door shut.

A little laugh slipped out of me, awkward and almost hysterical. "Oh, sorry!" I said, already turning to go. I didn't want to embarrass her.

And then my eyes landed on the man's face.

Jerry.

The laugh died in my throat. My fingers tightened around my phone until my knuckles ached.

For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing. The music from the club was just a faint heartbeat in the background.

Jerry's eyes widened when he saw me. Riley froze, her expression twisting into something between shock and guilt.

The room tilted slightly, and I gripped the doorframe to steady myself.

All I knew was that my boyfriend and my best friend had just set my entire night—and maybe my entire world—on fire.