Chapter 3

ZARA’S POV

The elevator doors had barely closed behind us before Cael had me pressed against the cold metal wall. His lips crashed down on mine with a hunger that stole what little breath I had left in my lungs.

This kiss was nothing like the polite one at the chapel. This one was hungry, demanding, and filled with desire.

I moaned into his mouth, fisting my hands in the front of his shirt as all the pain from earlier—Marcus’s betrayal, Nadia’s moans, Victor’s smug voice in my head, all poured out of me. I kissed him back like I was trying to erase every memory of the life I’d lost that day. The feeling of the alcohol was still active in my veins, it made everything feel more alive and blurry at the same time.

Cael didn’t hold back.

One of his large hands gripped my waist, pulling me hard against him while the other tangled in my messy hair, tilting my head exactly how he wanted.

I could feel how much he wanted me, the hardness of him pressing insistently against my stomach through his pants. It sent a thrill through me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The elevator dinged at the top floor and without missing a beat, Cael lifted me like I weighed nothing.

I wrapped my legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried me out, his lips were still on mine, devouring me none the less.

He fumbled with the keycard for only a minute before kicking the penthouse door open and slamming it shut behind us.

The moment we were inside, he pinned me against the door again. His lips moved down my neck, sucking and biting me in a way that made my knees feel like jelly.

“Zara…” he growled my name against my neck, his voice sounded lower and rough this time, it was like he was a completely different from the calm man I’d met at the bar.

But I didn’t want him to be gentle. I didn’t want sweet words or slow caresses. I wanted to be fucked until I couldn’t remember my own name, let alone Marcus and Nadia’s.

“Shut up and fuck me,” I whispered, as I tugged desperately at his shirt.

Our clothes came off in a frantic, messy rush and his hands were confidently everywhere, it was almost like he was too sure of himself.

He touched me like a man who already knew exactly what I liked, even though we were strangers. When he finally pushed inside me, I cried out and dug my nails into his shoulders.

The stretch inside me was intense, almost too much, but I was so wet and desperate that it quickly turned into overwhelming pleasure.

We didn’t even make it to the bedroom the first time. He took me right there against the door, pushing into me with hard, deep humps that made my head spin.

I came quickly, shaking violently in his arms while moaning his name loudly,not caring who could hear me. He followed soon after, burying himself inside me with a guttural moan that sounded almost pained, like he was losing control for the first time that night.

Then he carried me to the bedroom and the night became a haze of heat and sensation. We went at it again and again, each time was more intense than the last.

And I lost track of how many times he made me cum that night. Sometimes with his fingers, sometimes with his mouth, sometimes while I rode him and he watched me with those dark, inscrutable brown eyes that never seemed to close completely.

He was relentless but always in control and by the time exhaustion finally caught up to us, I was sore, covered in sweat, and my mind was mercifully quiet for the first time since I’d walked into my apartment that evening.

I lay draped across his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The silver wedding band on my finger felt heavier than it should be and for a few hazy, alcohol-soaked minutes, this whole insane night felt strangely… right.

Cael’s fingers traced slow, lazy patterns down my naked spine. His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet in the dark.

“You’re going to regret this in the morning, Zara.”

I let out a soft, tired laugh, already closing my eyes. “Probably. But right now… I really don’t care.”

He didn’t say anything else. But even as sleep took me, I could feel him watching me.

That same unnerving, too-perfect calmness from the bar was still there. It was like nothing that had happened tonight—the impulsive marriage, the wild sex, me falling apart in his arms—had truly surprised him.

Honestly that sort of thing should have scared me. Instead, it felt like the only safe thing left in my completely messed up world.