Chapter Eight

Ella, still tangled in the aftermath of their shared release, felt the rhythmic beat of James’s heart against her ear, a steady anchor in the swirling current of her own racing pulse.

His arm, heavy with sleep and spent passion, draped across her waist, pinning her to the mattress.

The scent of his musk, sweat, and something uniquely his, like old leather and new danger filled her nostrils, a potent elixir she found herself addicted to.

She traced the scar on his jaw, a rough ridge beneath her fingertip, an ancient story etched into his skin. His breath, warm and even, stirred the loose strands of hair framing her face.

She remembered the raw power of his body, the way he had taken her, claimed her, until her world narrowed to the exquisite point of his thrusts.

Her inner thighs still throbbed, a sweet ache, a testament to the night’s relentless pleasure. A flush crept up her neck, staining her cheeks.

James stirred, a low groan rumbling in his chest. His eyes, the color of burnt umber, fluttered open, heavy-lidded and slow to focus.

He blinked once, twice, then a slow, predatory smile stretched his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. His gaze, dark and knowing, swept over her, lingering on her parted lips, the faint bite mark on her neck.

“Still here?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, a low rasp that sent a shiver through her.

Ella’s stomach did a peculiar flip. “Where else would I be?” Her voice, a little breathless, surprised even herself.

She pushed herself up slightly, bracing on an elbow, the sheet pooling at her waist, exposing the swell of her breasts.

His eyes, sharp now, devoured the sight. He reached out, his fingers brushing the curve of her hip, a feather-light touch that still made her skin prickle.

“Good point,” he conceded, his thumb stroking the soft skin. “Don’t recall giving you permission to leave.”

A playful challenge sparkled in her eyes. “I don’t recall needing your permission.” She leaned in, her lips hovering just above his.

The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken desire. “You’re a little possessive this morning, aren’t you?”

He chuckled, a rich, deep sound that vibrated through her. “And you’re a little too pleased about it.” He pulled her closer, his hand sliding up her back, cupping the nape of her neck.

His lips, warm and soft, met hers, a gentle, lingering kiss that promised more. He deepened it then, a slow exploration, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth, coaxing her open.

She responded instantly, her own tongue meeting his, a dance of give and take, sweet and unhurried, a stark contrast to the frantic urgency of their earlier encounters.

He tasted of coffee and something uniquely male, a heady mix that made her head swim.

He broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with an unreadable intensity. “We have a flight to catch.”

The words, so mundane, crashed into the quiet intimacy of the room. Ella’s breath hitched. We back so soon ,a cold tendril of something she refused to name disappointment, snaked through her. She blinked, trying to process the abrupt shift. “A flight?”

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Business. An unscheduled trip.” He watched her, a flicker of something she couldn’t decipher in his eyes. “ And you have school tomorrow.

“Oh.” The single syllable felt flat, inadequate. She pulled back slightly, the warmth of his body already beginning to recede. The air in the room suddenly felt cooler.

“Right.”

He reached out, his calloused thumb brushing her bottom lip, a gentle, almost tender gesture.

“Don’t look so forlorn, little viper. We could always come back.”

She tried to conjure a smile, but it felt brittle. “I know.” She didn’t know. Not really. The thought of them leaving and going back home felt unexpectedly sharp. “Just… unexpected.”

He shifted, rising slightly, pulling the sheet with him. His body, lean and powerful, was a sculpture in the morning light. She tore her gaze away, a blush rising.

He moved with an innate grace, a fluid strength that was mesmerizing. He walked to the bedside table, picking up his phone.

A few swift taps, a brief conversation she couldn’t quite make out, then he ended the call.

“My private jet will be ready in an hour,” he announced, turning back to her.

She sat up fully, pulling the sheet higher, a sudden self-consciousness washing over her. “An hour? That’s fast , I guess I will have to start preparing now.

He gave her that slow, knowing smile again. “I like efficiency. drapes. And they headed out to fly back to the city.

The city below was waking up, a sprawling canvas of energy. She watched his car pull away from the curb, a sleek black shadow disappearing into the urban maze.

A sigh escaped her, long and shaky. She was still reeling, still vibrating from their encounter. The sheer audacity of it all, the thrilling danger, the forbidden pleasure.

She had gone to Paris expecting a quiet escape, a chance to clear her head after her father’s death, after James had stepped into his place, into her life.

Instead, she had fallen into his bed, into his arms, into a vortex of desire she never knew existed. And she had no regrets. Not yet, anyway.

Later that morning, the city was fully alive, a symphony of honking horns and chattering voices.

Ella, dressed in a floral sundress that felt light and carefree, hailed a cab to take her to the university.

The campus, a sprawling expanse of red brick buildings and ancient oak trees, was a familiar comfort.

The air buzzed with the energy of returning students, a kaleidoscope of faces, some familiar, some new.

She walked through the main quad, the weight of her backpack a reassuring presence on her shoulders.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the faint aroma of coffee from the campus café.

Her steps felt lighter, more confident than they had in weeks.

Paris, and James, had done something to her, unleashed a part of herself she hadn’t known existed.

A familiar voice cut through the general din. “Ella! Oh my god, you’re back!”