Chapter 2

The buzzing didn’t stop. It vibrated against my hip where he was pressed flush against me, a harsh, rhythmic interruption to the heavy, suffocating tension in the elevator.

He cursed under his breath, a dark, rough sound that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my thighs, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid down, his thumb swiping across the screen to silence the call without even glancing at who was trying to reach him.

"Who was that?" I whispered, my voice trembling just a fraction.

"Nobody," he growled, his large hands dropping from my face to grip my waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. "Just a ghost. And right now, you’re the only thing that’s real."

Before I could even process the weight of that, his mouth crashed down on mine.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. His lips were hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to taste me, to conquer me.

I let out a muffled gasp, my hands flying up to grip the lapels of his leather jacket just to keep myself upright. He tasted like expensive bourbon , and I was absolutely addicted to it.

The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open to reveal a lavish, dimly lit hallway, but he didn’t give me a second to breathe. He grabbed my hand, pulling me out of the mirrored box and down the hall toward the penthouse suite.

The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind us, his hands were on me again.

He didn’t bother with the lights, just backed me up against the wall of the entryway, his mouth trailing down my neck, biting lightly at the sensitive skin right above the sweetheart neckline of my dress.

"You have no idea," he murmured against my skin, his voice a ragged rasp, "how long I’ve been watching you sit at that bar. How badly I wanted to drag you out of there."

"Then why did you wait?" I breathed, my fingers fumbling with the zipper at the back of my dress.

"Because I wanted to see if you’d let me," he replied, stepping back just enough to help me.

The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me in nothing but a scrap of black lace.

I suddenly felt a flash of insecurity, my instinct to cross my arms over my heavy breasts and hide my soft stomach flaring up. I wasn’t a size zero.

I was thick, plush, and built with curves that usually made women glare and men stare a little too hard.

But he didn’t look away. He didn’t tell me to cover up. Instead, his dark eyes swept over my body, darkening with a hunger that made my knees weak.

"Fuck," he breathed out, stepping into my space again.

His hands came up, to cup the heavy weight of my breasts, his thumbs brushing over the lace. "You’re absolutely perfect. So soft. So fucking perfect."

He dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, his hands sliding down to grip my thick thighs, spreading them apart.

When his mouth finally touched me, right through the damp lace, a sharp cry tore from my throat.

He was relentless, his tongue working magic, his hands gripping my hips tight enough to leave bruises.

He worshipped every inch of my plus-size body like it was a religion, and by the time he finally stripped off his own clothes and lifted me into his arms to carry me to the massive bed, I was completely unraveling.

The sheets were cool against my bare skin, but he was burning up. He settled between my thighs, his heavy, tattooed body caging me in, and when he finally pushed his cocoa inside me, the stretch was so intense, so full, that I arched off the mattress with a scream.

He groaned, a deep, guttural sound, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he held perfectly still, letting me adjust to his size.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his dark, blown-out gaze.

"You take every inch of me," he whispered, his hips finally starting to move, setting a deep, punishing rhythm that rattled my teeth. "You’re mine tonight. Understand?"

I couldn’t even form words. I just nodded, my nails digging into his broad, inked shoulders as he drove into me again and again. The friction was blinding, the heat between us suffocating, and when the climax finally hit me, it ripped through my body in violent.

He followed right after me, his grip on my waist bruising as he spilled inside me with a harsh, ragged shout.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was our heavy, synchronized breathing.

He collapsed against me, his weight a comforting, solid pressure, his face buried in my hair.

But then, the phone buzzed again.

This time, he didn’t ignore it. He pulled away, his jaw clenching so hard I thought his teeth might crack.

He grabbed the phone from the nightstand, looked at the screen, and his entire demeanor shifted. The raw, passionate lover vanished, replaced by a cold, hardened enforcer.

"I have to go," he said, his voice flat, already swinging his legs off the bed.

"What?" I sat up, the cool air hitting my sweat-slicked skin. "You just got here."

"Something came up. Business," he muttered, pulling on his jeans and a black t-shirt. He didn’t look at me, his movements sharp and efficient. "I can't explain it right now."

"Wait," I said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I don't even know your name."

He paused, looking down at me. For a second, I thought he was going to lean in and kiss me, but instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy, custom silver cufflink, tossing it onto the bed next to my hip.

"You'll figure it out," he said softly.

Before I could say another word, he turned and walked out the door, the heavy click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

I sat there for a long time, my body aching in the best way possible, staring at the silver cufflink.

I picked it up, running my thumb over the intricate engraving on the metal. It was a wild, crazy night, a final rebellion before my life belonged to the Sterlings. I told myself it didn't matter.

It was just a one-night stand. A fun, dirty secret to keep in my back pocket.

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