Tangled In Heat

Sophia’s POV

The safehouse is a sleek, modern penthouse tucked away in a quiet corner of Manhattan, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline. The lights of New York twinkle like stars against the night, but inside, the air is thick with tension and unspoken desire. Julian closes the door behind us, the soft click echoing in the dimly lit space. My heart pounds not just from the fear of Lucas’s text, but from the way Julian’s presence fills the room, commanding and electric.

He turns to me, his piercing blue eyes catching the faint glow of the city lights. “You’re safe here,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. “No one knows about this place. Not Lucas, not your family.”

I nod, but my body is trembling, caught between the terror of being discovered and the pull of something far more dangerous Julian. He steps closer, and I can feel the heat radiating from him, his tailored suit hugging his broad shoulders and lean frame. The memory of our night together at the gala floods back, unbidden. The way his hands felt on my skin, the way his lips claimed mine with a hunger that left me breathless. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. But my body betrays me, a flush creeping up my neck as my breath quickens.

“Sophia,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he reaches out, brushing a stray curl from my face. His fingers linger, grazing my cheek, and a shiver runs through me. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Not with me.”

His words unravel something inside me, a knot of fear and longing that’s been tightening for years. I step closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, my hands trembling as they rest against his chest. His heartbeat is steady under my palms, a stark contrast to the wild rhythm of my own. “Julian,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

His hand slides to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin there, sending sparks down my spine. “You’re choosing yourself,” he says, his gaze locked on mine, intense and unyielding. “You’re choosing us.”

The word us hits me like a spark, igniting something reckless and raw. Before I can overthink it, I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his. The kiss is tentative at first, a question, but Julian responds with a hunger that steals my breath. His mouth moves against mine, firm and commanding, his tongue teasing the seam of my lips until I part them, letting him in. The taste of him—whiskey and heat floods my senses, and I moan softly, my hands fisting in his shirt.

He groans, a low, primal sound that vibrates through me, and suddenly, I’m pressed against the wall, his body pinning mine. The cool plaster against my back contrasts with the searing heat of his hands as they roam my sides, tracing the curve of my waist, the dip of my hips. “Sophia,” he breathes against my lips, his voice rough with want. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

His words send a thrill through me, and I arch into him, craving more. His hands slide under my blouse, his fingers skimming the bare skin of my stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. My breath hitches as he tugs the fabric over my head, tossing it aside, his eyes darkening as they take in the sight of me in my lace bra. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice reverent, and I feel a surge of confidence I haven’t felt in years.

I reach for him, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. He helps me, shrugging out of the fabric, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest, the taut muscles of his abdomen. My hands explore him, tracing the lines of his body, and he lets out a shaky breath, his control fraying. “Careful,” he warns, his voice a low rumble. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Then burn me,” I whisper, reckless and bold, and something shifts in his eyes—desire, yes, but something deeper, something that makes my heart stutter.

He kisses me again, harder this time, his hands finding the clasp of my bra and deftly undoing it. The fabric falls away, and his mouth is on me, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, until he reaches the sensitive peak of my breast. I gasp, my head falling back against the wall as his tongue teases me, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. My hands tangle in his dark hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing him.

“Julian,” I moan, my voice a desperate plea, and he groans in response, his hands sliding to the waistband of my jeans. He unbuttons them with practiced ease, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric, brushing against the lace of my panties. My hips buck against his touch, a silent demand, and he chuckles darkly, his breath hot against my skin.

“Patience,” he murmurs, but there’s no patience in the way he tugs my jeans down, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. His hands grip my thighs, lifting me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, the hard length of him pressing against me through his trousers. The friction is maddening, and I rock against him, chasing the pleasure that’s building inside me.

He carries me to the plush leather couch in the center of the room, laying me down gently, his eyes never leaving mine. There’s something in his gaze—possession, adoration, a promise I’m not sure I’m ready to believe. He sheds his trousers, and I drink in the sight of him, all hard lines and raw power, his body a masterpiece of strength and desire. He lowers himself over me, his weight a delicious pressure, and I feel the heat of him against my core, separated only by the thin barrier of fabric.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, his voice rough, his lips brushing against mine. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” I breathe, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I want all of you.”

That’s all he needs. His mouth crashes against mine, and his hand slips beneath my panties, finding me wet and ready. His fingers move with expert precision, stroking me until I’m writhing beneath him, my nails digging into his shoulders. “Julian,” I gasp, my body arching as pleasure coils tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

He pulls back just long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, and I watch, mesmerized, as he reveals himself fully. He’s breathtaking, every inch of him radiating power and need. He reaches for me again, tearing my panties away with a single, swift motion, and then he’s there, pressing against me, his eyes locked on mine as he enters me slowly, deliberately.

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect mix of pleasure and pain as he fills me, stretching me in ways that make my toes curl. I cling to him, my legs wrapping around his hips, urging him deeper. He moves with a rhythm that’s both tender and relentless, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. His hands grip my hips, anchoring me as he sets a pace that’s almost too much, yet not enough.

“Sophia,” he groans, his voice raw, his breath ragged. “You feel so good.”

I can’t speak, can’t think, lost in the sensation of him moving inside me, the heat of his skin, the intensity of his gaze. My body responds to his every touch, every thrust, building toward a climax that feels like it might shatter me. His lips find mine again, swallowing my moans as I te teeter on the edge, and then I’m falling, my body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crash over me.

He follows moments later, his release a low, guttural groan against my neck, his body shuddering as he holds me close. We stay like that, tangled together, our chests heaving, the world reduced to the sound of our breathing and the city humming outside.

But the moment of bliss is fleeting. As we lie there, catching our breath, my phone buzzes on the coffee table. I reach for it, my heart sinking as I see the screen. A new message, from an unknown number. My hands tremble as I open it, revealing a grainy photo of Julian’s car parked outside the safehouse, my silhouette visible in the passenger seat.

The text reads: “I know where you are. And I know what you’re doing. You can’t hide from me.”

My blood runs cold. Lucas? Emily? Nadya? Someone else entirely? The walls of the safehouse, once a sanctuary, now feel like a trap closing in. Julian notices my expression and grabs the phone, his face darkening as he reads the message.

“Who sent this?” he demands, his voice sharp with protectiveness.

“I don’t know,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “But they’re watching us.”

As Julian pulls me close, vowing to find out who’s behind the message, a faint creak echoes from the hallway outside the safehouse. Someone is here, lurking just beyond the door. Friend or foe? And what secrets are they carrying that could destroy everything i and Julian are fighting for?