Chapter 8: The breaking point

I tried to turn around, but the room was spinning. My legs wouldn't work.

“Easy.” Strong hands held me steady. “When did you last drink water?”

I blinked up at him. He was beautiful sharp face, dark eyes, the kind of guy you see on magazine covers. Tall, with broad shoulders, wearing a black shirt that fit him perfectly.

“Who are you?” I managed to ask.

“Someone making sure you don’t get attacked.”

He guided me toward a quieter area. “Did you take something?”

“Maybe? It was blue.”

“Christ.” He sat me down on a leather couch. A bottle of water appeared in my hand. “Drink.”

I drank because his voice made it impossible to argue.

“Better?” he asked.

I looked at him really looked  and felt something stir inside me, despite everything. “You saved me.”

“Those guys are predators.”

“Thank you.” I set down the water and leaned closer. The drugs were making me brave. Reckless. “What’s your name?”

A pause. “Brody.”

“Brody,” I repeated. “I’m Eleanor.”

“Eleanor.” The way he said it made my name sound precious. “You should find your friend Get home safe.”

“I don’t want to go home.” I stood, wobbled, and he caught me automatically. His hands on my waist sent a wave of heat through me. “I want to forget everything Just for tonight.”

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Maybe not.” I looked up at him. “But I know what I want.”

I tried to kiss him, but I was unsteady and too short, so I only managed to catch his jaw. He inhaled sharply, his hands tightening on my waist. For a breathless moment, I thought he’d push me away. Instead, his hand cupped my face, angling me correctly, and he kissed me back. It was intense. His mouth moved over mine with a passion that made my knees weak. When his tongue swept against mine, I made a soft sound I'd never made before.

He pulled back, breathing hard. “This is a bad idea.”

“I know.”

“You’ll regret this tomorrow.”

“I don’t care.” I grabbed his shirt. “I just want to feel something. Please.”

His jaw clenched. His eyes were almost black. “Not here,” he muttered. “Come with me.”

I didn’t remember getting to the hotel. Just fragments his hand on my back, the backseat of a car, his mouth on my neck while city lights blurred past. The hotel was expensive. Brody handled check-in efficiently, and the elevator opened directly into a penthouse suite.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at Los Angeles glittering below. I felt him stop behind me.

“Having second thoughts?” he asked, giving me a chance to leave.

I turned to face him. “Are you?”

“I stopped having thoughts the moment you kissed me.”

“Then stop talking.”

I pulled his mouth down to his and this time there was no hesitation. He kissed me like a man who’d been holding back and finally let go, one hand fisting in my hair, the other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. His mouth moved to my neck, and I gasped. His hands found the zipper of my red dress. The dress pooled at my feet. He looked at me like I was art.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

I reached for the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, revealing a chest that looked carved from marble. He lifted me just picked me up and carried me to the bed.

“Tell me what you need,” he murmured.

Everything. “Make me forget,” I whispered.

He didn't ask again. He just took. His mouth was a brand against my skin, trailing down my throat, over my collarbone, pausing to nip at the sensitive flesh just above my breast. I arched into him, my body a bowstring pulled taut, every nerve ending humming with a desperate, electric need. This was what I wanted. This feeling of being consumed, of being the center of someone's universe, even if it was only for a few stolen hours.

His hands were everywhere, mapping my body with a confidence that was both terrifying and intoxicating. He cupped my breasts, his thumbs brushing over my already-peaked nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I gasped, my hands fisting in the sheets, my head thrown back. He lowered his head, taking one nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tight bud before he sucked, hard. The sensation was exquisite, a sharp, sweet pain that had me crying out 

He growled in response, his mouth moving to give the other breast the same attention while his hand slid down my stomach, his fingers tracing the edge of my lace panties. I was already wet, aching for him, my hips lifting off the bed in a silent plea. He teased me, his fingers ghosting over the soaked fabric, making me squirm.

“Please,” I whimpered, ashamed of how much I needed it.

He slid his fingers beneath the lace, parting my folds and finding my clit with unerring accuracy. I cried out, my back bowing off the bed as he began to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly at first, then faster, building a pressure that was almost unbearable. He watched me, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that pinned me in place.

“You like that?” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rumble. “You like my fingers on this pretty little clit?”

I could only moan in response, my hips bucking against his hand. He slid two fingers inside me, curling them upward to stroke that magical spot deep within me while his thumb continued its relentless assault on my clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that crashed over me, again and again, until I was screaming his name, my body convulsing with the force of my orgasm.

He didn't give me time to recover. He moved over me, settling between my thighs, his body a hard, heavy weight that felt like an anchor. He entered me in one slow, deep thrust that stole my breath. He filled me completely, stretching me in a way that was both painful and perfect. He paused, letting me adjust, his eyes locked on mine.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Don’t stop.”

I woke up to sunlight and a splitting headache. For a moment, I had no idea where I was. Then it all came back. The club. Brody. Oh god.

I turned my head carefully and saw him asleep, one arm across my waist. Beautiful and dangerous even unconscious.

Panic seized my chest. I slipped out from under his arm and dressed quickly and quietly. I found 500 hundred dollars in my wallet and left it on the nightstand. Like I could pay for this and make it less real.

I looked at him one last time and felt something crack in my chest. Then I slipped out before I could change my mind.

The Uber ride home was torture. I tried not to think about what I’d done. Tried not to think about Brody waking up to find cash like he was… I was going to be sick.

“Pull over,” I gasped.

I barely made it out before vomiting into someone’s bushes.

When I got back in the car, my phone showed seventeen missed calls from Marcus.

Marcus:Where the hell are you?

Marcus: We need to talk when you get home.

I stared out the window, trying to figure out how I’d gone from perfect wife to the kind of woman who cheated in a penthouse suite with a man whose last name I didn’t even know.