All Chapters of Wild Desires: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The elevator doors closed behind us, sealing out the noise of the party below.Drake stood with his back to the mirrored wall, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. The space between us felt charged, electric, like the air before a thunderstorm. I pressed myself against the opposite wall, trying to put distance between us, but the elevator was small and he was everywhere. His scent. His heat. The weight of his gaze crawling over my body like a physical touch."You're shaking," he observed."I'm cold.""You're lying."Before I could argue, he pushed off from the wall and crossed the distance between us in one step. His hands braced against the mirrors on either side of my head, caging me in. His body didn't touch mine, not yet, but I could feel the warmth radiating from him, could feel the promise of what was coming."Tell me to stop," he said quietly. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll walk away. I'll have my driver take you home, and we'll pretend this never ha

Two weeks turned into three, and three turned into a month.Avery stopped counting the nights she spent in Drake's penthouse because counting implied an end, and she had stopped believing in endings somewhere around the tenth time he made her cry out his name against the silk sheets. Her own apartment became a place she visited only to change clothes and water the single dying plant on her windowsill. Everything she needed lived on the other side of the city, behind a private elevator that required a key card she now carried in her wallet like a secret badge of honor.She was drowning in him. And she had never felt more alive.---"You're late."Drake's voice greeted her the moment she stepped into the suite. He stood by the window overlooking the city, dressed in charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A glass of whiskey dangled from his fingers, barely touched.Avery set her bag down on the marble console table. "Traffic was terrible.""You cou

The first crack appeared on a Tuesday. It wasn't dramatic. No shouting, no slammed doors, no tears. Just a quiet fissure that spread through the foundation of whatever they were building, thin and fragile and impossible to ignore. Avery had arrived at the penthouse straight from work, still wearing her gray pencil skirt and silk blouse, her hair pinned up in a messy twist. She was tired. The kind of bone deep exhaustion that came from back to back meetings and a publisher who kept changing deadlines. All she wanted was a glass of wine and Drake's arms around her. What she found was an empty suite. That wasn't unusual. Drake worked late more often than not, and he had never promised to wait for her by the door like a loyal husband. But something felt different tonight. The air in the penthouse was cold. The lights were dim. And on the kitchen island, beside a bouquet of white roses, sat a single piece of paper. Avery picked it up. It was a photograph. Glossy. Professional.

She didn't sleep. The second note sat in her drawer like a living thing, breathing poison into her apartment. Avery lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment with Drake, searching for cracks she might have missed. Did he love her or the idea of her? Was there really a difference? By dawn, she had made a decision. She wasn't going to let some anonymous coward dictate her relationship. If someone wanted to scare her away from Drake Montenegro, they would have to try harder than cryptic notes and old photographs. She dressed for work with deliberate care. A red blouse, the color of confidence. Dark jeans that hugged her curves. Heels that made her feel powerful. She looked in the mirror and told herself she was fine. She was strong. She was not going to crumble. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Drake: Come over tonight. I need to see you. Her heart flipped. Even after everything, even after the suspicion and the fear, he still had that effect on her. She typ

She lay perfectly still when Drake returned to the bedroom. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he settled beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His hand found her hip, fingers curling around the curve of her bone through the thin fabric of his shirt. He thought she was asleep. She could tell by the careful way he breathed, the deliberate softness of his touch. Avery kept her eyes closed and her heart racing. She should confront him. She should open her eyes and tell him she had seen everything. Heard everything. The way Celeste had touched his chest. The way she had whispered about the women he had ruined. The way she had promised not to go away. But something held her back. Fear, maybe. Or pride. Or the terrible possibility that if she asked the wrong question, he would give her an answer she couldn't survive. So she let him pull her against his chest. She let him press a kiss to her hair. She let him hold her like she was somet