Chapter 3

She should have left the next morning.

That was the agreement. One night. No strings. No promises.

But when Avery woke to pale sunlight filtering through the floor to ceiling windows of Drake's suite, his arm was still wrapped around her waist, and his breathing was slow and warm against her bare shoulder. She should have slipped out of bed. Should have gathered her dress from where it had fallen beside the fireplace. Should have called a car and disappeared before he opened his eyes.

Instead, she lay perfectly still and watched him sleep.

It was strange to see Drake Montenegro without his armor. The sharp jaw was relaxed. The calculating eyes were hidden beneath dark lashes. His lips, usually curved in a smirk or pressed into a hard line, were soft and slightly parted. He looked younger like this. Almost gentle.

Then his arm tightened around her waist, and his voice came out low and rough.

"You're staring."

Avery's heart stumbled. "You're supposed to be asleep."

"I don't sleep well." His eyes opened slowly, finding hers immediately. "But last night was an exception."

Heat flooded her cheeks. She remembered every detail of the night before. The way he had touched her. The sounds he had pulled from her throat. The way he had looked at her in the darkness like she was the only woman who had ever existed.

"I should go," she whispered.

"No."

The word was simple. Absolute.

Drake rolled onto his side, facing her fully. His hand traveled from her waist to her hip, fingers splaying across her skin with possessive ease. The silk sheets had slipped during the night, leaving her nearly exposed, and his gaze dropped to take in every inch of her with an appreciation that made her stomach clench.

"I'm not finished with you," he said.

"Drake."

"Avery." He echoed her tone exactly, a dark smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You didn't think one night would be enough, did you?"

She should have said yes. She should have reminded him of his own words. No strings. No promises.

Instead, she reached up and touched his jaw, feeling the roughness of morning stubble against her fingertips. "You said one night."

"I lied."

Before she could respond, he lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss was nothing like the night before. Those had been hungry, desperate, frantic. This was slow. Deliberate. His tongue traced her lower lip before slipping inside, and she moaned against him without meaning to. His hand slid from her hip to the inside of her thigh, pushing her legs apart with lazy confidence.

"I want to watch you fall apart again," he murmured against her mouth. "And again. And again. Until you forget there was ever a time you didn't belong to me."

Her breath caught. "I don't belong to anyone."

His fingers found the heat between her thighs, and her argument dissolved into a sharp gasp. He smiled at her reaction, slow and satisfied, as he began to move against her in small, torturous circles.

"We'll see about that."

---

What followed was not a negotiation. It was a seduction.

Drake took his time in a way he hadn't the night before. He kissed every inch of her body, starting at her collarbone and working downward with an attention to detail that felt almost reverent. When his mouth reached her stomach, he paused, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin just below her navel. When she trembled, he looked up at her with those cold eyes now burning with something far hotter.

"You're sensitive here," he observed.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Like he could see straight through her skin. Like he already knew every secret she had ever tried to hide.

Drake hooked his arms under her thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed, settling between her legs with an ease that made her feel both vulnerable and worshipped. He lowered his mouth to her center without warning, and Avery cried out, her fingers fisting in the sheets as pleasure shot through her like lightning.

He was skilled. That was the problem. He was too skilled, too patient, too attuned to every shift of her body. Every time she thought she couldn't take any more, he changed his rhythm, drew back, started again. He built her up and let her hover on the edge of release, only to slow down and make her wait.

"Please," she heard herself beg.

"What do you want, Avery?"

"You."

"How?"

"Inside me. Please. I need you inside me."

That seemed to satisfy him. He rose above her, positioning himself at her entrance, and paused with his forehead pressed against hers.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

She opened her eyes.

He pushed inside her in one slow, smooth motion, and the sound she made was almost embarrassing in its desperation. He filled her completely, stretching her in ways that made her see stars behind her eyelids. But she kept her eyes open as he had asked, watching his face as pleasure and control warred across his features.

"Mine," he whispered, and began to move.

---

Hours later, Avery finally left the suite.

Her body ached in the most delicious way. Her hair was a disaster. Her dress had been wrinkled beyond repair, so Drake had sent someone to fetch clothes from somewhere. A black silk robe, absurdly expensive, that she had no right to wear. He had watched her tie it around herself with an expression that made her feel like he was already planning her return.

"You're thinking too much," he said from the bed, where he lounged against the headboard completely naked, making no move to cover himself.

"You're not thinking enough."

"That's where you're wrong." He reached for his phone on the nightstand, scrolling through messages without looking at her. "I've thought about nothing but you for three days."

Avery paused with her hand on the door. "Three days?"

"Since the moment I saw you across that room." His eyes lifted to hers, and for just a second, the mask slipped. She saw something raw underneath. Something hungry and restless and entirely undisguised. "You consumed me, Avery. You still do."

Her throat tightened. "That's not healthy."

"Nothing about me is healthy." He set down his phone and rose from the bed, crossing the room in three long strides. He stopped inches from her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "But you don't want healthy. You want this. You want me. I saw it in your eyes the moment I walked toward you."

She couldn't deny it.

He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her chin upward. "Come back tonight."

"Drake."

"Come back tonight, and I'll make you forget every man who came before me. Come back tomorrow night, and I'll make you forget your own name. Come back every night, and I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never want to leave."

Her heart pounded so hard she thought he must feel it through his palms. "You don't mean that."

"I don't say things I don't mean."

"People like you don't fall in love."

He smiled then. Not a smirk. Not a dangerous curve of his lips. A real smile, small and almost sad, that transformed his entire face into something unbearably human.

"Who said anything about love?" he murmured. "I'm talking about obsession. Addiction. The kind of need that ruins men like me." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, so soft it made her chest ache. "And I'm telling you, Avery Morgan, that I have never needed anyone the way I need you."

She left the suite with her knees shaking and his taste still on her tongue.

And she came back that night.

And the night after that.

And every night for two weeks, until she stopped pretending she had any control left at all.