I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the door handle. I’ve reached for the deadbolt six times in the last twenty minutes. Every time, my fingers graze the cold metal, and every time, I pull back like it’s electrified.
Are you really doing this, Atara? He’s a weird, arrogant businessman. He’s definitely not stable.
“Shut up, brain,” I whisper, flopping back onto the pillows. “Stability gave me Mark. Stability gave me a five-year internship as a tutor for a man who dumped me with a ‘severance’ ticket. Maybe I’m done with stable.”
The truth is, I’m vibrating. It’s not the leftover adrenaline from the cliff or the coffee from breakfast. It’s him. It’s the way he looked at me when he said he wanted me—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The click of the door handle is quiet, but in the silence of the suite, it sounds like a gunshot.
I sit up, my heart doing a clumsy dance against my ribs. The door swings open slowly. He is standing there, silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. He’s changed into a black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders, the ink on his arms dark and sprawling. He looks tired, but his eyes are wired, glowing with a heat that makes my breath hitch.
He’s here…
He steps inside and closes the door behind him. He doesn't lock it. He just stands there, watching me.
“The door was unlocked,” he says. His voice is a low, rough rumble that vibrates right through the mattress and into my bones.
“Maybe the lock is sticky,” I lie, standing up. I’m wearing a silk slip dress. It’s blush pink, thin, and entirely too revealing for a ‘professional’ confrontation. “I tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge.”
Lorcan tilts his head, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. He walks toward me, his movements slow and deliberate, like a tiger who knows the cage is already open.
“Is that right?” He stops a foot away. The air around him smells like sandalwood, expensive tobacco, and something sharper, something metallic. “You’re a terrible liar, Atara.” He reaches out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck. His skin is hot, his grip firm. “You wanted me to walk through that door. You’ve been sitting here waiting for it.”
“You’re arrogant,” I breathe, my head tilting back as he pulls me closer. “And you’re late. If you’re going to be a dark, mysterious stranger, you should really work on your punctuality.”
“I had a debt to collect,” he mutters, his eyes dropping to my mouth. “But I’m here now. Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to devour me like you’ve been dreaming about?”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
He doesn't let me finish. He lunges, his mouth crashing against mine.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, demanding, claiming, and I meet him with a ferocity that surprises even me. I wrap my arms around his neck, my fingers tangling in the dark hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no air left between us.
He tastes like sweet whiskey.
He groans, a deep, guttural sound in the back of his throat, and lifts me off my feet. I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back.
“My room,” he growls against my lips. “Now.”
“Why? Does my room not meet your requirements?”
“I don’t fucking care if we are rolling on the grass right now. But my floor is more secure,”
He carries me out of the suite. I’m barely conscious of the hallway, of the two suited men standing guard who look away as we pass.
“Wait,” I pant as we reach the double doors of the penthouse. “Why do you have so many bodyguards? You’re just a businessman.”
Lorcan chuckles, the sound dark and vibrating against my chest as he kicks his door open. “I am just a businessman, Atara. I just deal in very high-risk assets.”
He sets me down in the center of the massive, dimly lit room. He turns to the two men who started to follow us in.
“Get out,” he snarls. “And don't even think about knocking unless the building is on fire.”
The doors slam shut, and suddenly, the world is just the two of us.
He turns back to me, and the look in his eyes makes my knees buckle. He doesn't waste time. He’s across the room in two strides, his hands back on me, pulling the straps of my slip dress down. The silk pools at my feet, leaving me standing there in nothing but a pair of lace panties.
He stops, his gaze raking over my body with a deliberateness that feels like a brand.
