CHAPTER FOUR

DOMINIC’S POV

She broke the kiss almost immediately—brief and teasing. The taste of her lingered on my tongue, sour like the whiskey she'd both been drinking. 

I wanted to pull her back in, to finish the fire she started, but that mischievous smile stopped me cold. She knew exactly what she was doing.

 Her eyes sparkled with triumph, as if she’d already won whatever game we were playing. And I'm falling right into the little game she is playing.

“You see?” she whispered, her voice low and sultry, extending her pinky finger like we were making a childish promise. 

“You can’t resist me. Spend the night with me, Dominic. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I paused briefly, glancing at her all over again. This wasn’t the cold woman who had ended her engagement just hours ago. That version of her had been icy, distant, her words cutting like shards of glass.

 This one—warm, playful, dangerous—felt like an entirely different person. Her cheeks were flushed from the kiss, her hair slightly tousled from where my fingers had threaded through it moments before. 

The party lights danced across her skin, highlighting the elegant curve of her neck and the way her dress clung to her figure.

Since losing Selena, I hadn’t let myself truly enjoy a woman. Sex had become nothing more than a transaction—quick, paid for, forgotten by morning. 

Empty encounters in hotel rooms where emotions never entered the picture. But this heiress, with her sharp eyes, soft perfume that hinted at coconut and something darker, was making me consider breaking every rule I’d set for myself. 

Even if it meant opening doors I’d sworn to keep locked.

“Who told you to stop?” My voice came out rougher than I intended, gravelly with need. My body was already reacting, heat pooling low in my gut.

Her gaze softened with surprising warmth, the mischief giving way to something deeper. For a second, I understood why men ruined themselves over women like her. 

I knew how deadly attraction could be.

 Four years ago, I had ignored every warning from my family and married the woman they despised. 

Selena had been my everything—calm in the storm, light in the darkness. We barely fought. Our three years together felt like a dream. Until the incident ripped her away, leaving me hollow.

But right now, with Aria this close, her breath mingling with mine, my mind wasn’t drowning in memories of Selena. 

Not entirely. 

The guilt was there, simmering beneath the surface, but the pull toward this woman was stronger than I expected.

“You like me,” she cooed, stepping closer until her body brushed against mine. The faint scent of her perfume wrapped around me again, intoxicating. “Don’t you?”

Her way of flirting was straight and direct. Was she always this blunt?

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I caught her by the waist, my hands spanning the narrow curve there, and kissed her again—slower this time. 

Deeper. 

I wanted her to feel the decision I was making, the shift from resistance to surrender. 

Her body melted against mine almost instantly, soft and yielding, her hands sliding up my chest to grip my shirt. 

The party noise faded into a distant hum—the clink of glasses, muffled laughter, the low thrum of music. 

There was only the heat of her mouth, the faint taste of whiskey on her tongue, and the way her fingers curled into my jacket like she was claiming me as hers.

When I grazed her bottom lip with my teeth, her breath hitched sharply. That small, needy sound went straight to my cock, hardening it further against my trousers. I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with want, pupils blown wide.

This is the last chance I get before the little control slips.

“See?” she breathed, triumphant and breathless. “I knew it.”

I smiled despite myself, a reluctant curve of my lips. “And what if I do want you?”

“Then stop fighting it.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “Take me somewhere private. Now.”

My control slipped. My hand slid down her side, tracing the curve of her hip through the thin fabric of her dress. She arched into me, and the soft sound she made nearly undid me right there.

“You’re very sure of yourself,” I murmured against her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Her skin was warm, slightly damp from the crowded room.

“And you’re still here.” Her fingers traced the front of my shirt, then lower, brushing boldly over my belt buckle. The light touch made my muscles tense. “So what are you waiting for?”

I caught her wrist, not to stop her—but to slow her down. My thumb stroked her pulse point, feeling it race. “Are you always this forward with men you barely know?”

She looked up at me through her lashes, something unreadable flickering behind the desire—vulnerability, maybe, or a secret she wasn’t ready to share. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“No.”

“Good.” She smiled, slow and seductive. “Then you have your answer.”

The last of my resistance cracked. I kissed her hard, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it. I lifted her slightly so she sat across my lap as I pressed her against myself, her dress riding up her thighs. The heat of her core pressed against me, driving me wild.

 Her mouth never left mine—hungry, demanding, matching my intensity.

I stood fully, carrying her effortlessly toward the private rooms at the back of the venue. Her legs wrapped around me instinctively, heels digging into my lower back.

 We passed dimly lit hallways where the party sounds grew fainter. My heart pounded in my chest, a mix of lust and that old, familiar grief threatening to surface.

 But her fingers in my hair, her lips on my jaw, kept me anchored here.

By the time the door to the private suite clicked shut behind us, my hands were already sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders. The fabric whispered to the floor, pooling at her feet like spilled champagne.