The kiss was not gentle. It was anger, hunger, memory, and need colliding all at once, his mouth taking mine as if the years between us had only made him more reckless. He tasted of mint, smoke, and the faint bitterness of champagne, a combination so painfully familiar and unfamiliar at once that it sent a shiver through me. I should have pushed him away. I should have ended it before it became another thing I would hate myself for remembering, but his body was against mine, his hand was at my waist, and some ruined part of me still knew exactly how to answer him.
My hands found him before my pride could stop them, slipping beneath the edge of his jacket, pressing against the warmth of his body as if touch alone could make sense of what words had destroyed. Everything I had buried rose too fast, the taste of him, the weight of him, the way he still fit against me with a familiarity that made my chest ache.
I kissed him back.
God help me, I kissed him back.
For one terrible moment, I let myself want him. I let myself forget the anger, the lies, the years I had spent trying to survive without him. I let myself become the girl who had once believed his hands were the safest place in the world, and that surrender frightened me more than the kiss itself.
Because Hayden Stone had always known how to ruin me. He had once been the center of my world, and even now, aftereverything, he still had the power to pull me under, to make me forget where the wound ended and the wanting began.
He pulled back only enough to look at me, his breath uneven, his eyes moving over my face as if he were trying to memorize what he had no right to keep.
“You look so fucking hot in this red dress,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.
A shiver ran through me at his words, heat pooling in my stomach.
“Thank you,” I breathed, my heart pounding in my chest.
His fingers found the hem of my dress, trailing along the fabric teasingly before slipping underneath. As his fingers teased my skin, leaving behind a trail of searing heat, my senses were overwhelmed with the intensity of his presence. My body craved every inch of contact, each touch igniting a fire within me that threatened to consume us both.
“Fuck, I want you so badly,” he growled, his voice dripping with need. The raw hunger in his tone sent shivers down my spine, causing my breath to hitch in response. Anticipation mounted as he slowly traced the curve of my hip, his fingers trembling with barely contained desire.
“Hay...Hayden,” I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation. He smiled knowingly at the sound of his name on my lips.
“I want to rip off this dress and fuck you senseless,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he slid his hand up my thigh. Each movement was filled with purpose, heightening the anticipation that coursed through me like electricity. Heat pooled between my thighs at his words, making me shiver uncontrollably with arousal.
As he pushed two fingers inside me, thrusting deep, my back arched instinctively towards him, desperate for more. Pleasure erupted from his touch, causing me to cry out his name inecstasy. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear as he continued to work his fingers in and out of me, each movement more intense than the last.
“Did you let anyone else touch what's mine?” he asked possessively, his voice dripping with a dangerous edge. The question hung heavy between us, but I was lost in the sensation, unable to form a coherent response. Instead, I moaned loudly as he pumped his fingers faster, hitting that perfect spot inside me, making my hips rock against his hand, craving the release building within.
He chuckled darkly at my response, the sound sending a thrill through me. Knowing he had such power over my body only heightened my arousal, making me even wetter. “You're still mine, aren't you?” he said with a satisfaction that threatened to send me over the edge. I could only whimper and surrender to the pleasure he was giving me as another orgasm began to build, the tension coiling deep within me.
“Hayden, please,” I begged, my voice shaky with need. He growled in response, thrusting his fingers deeper, claiming me with each movement. “That's right,” he said, his voice filled with a mixture of possession and desire. “You'll always be mine.” His words sent me tumbling over the edge, my orgasm crashing over me in intense waves that left me breathless and trembling in his arms. My body quivered as the sensations consumed me, making it nearly impossible to stand.
Chapter Nine
Hayden
Kissingherfeltlikecoming home, a familiar comfort that settled deep within my soul. I reveled in the sensation of her soft lips against mine, savoring every moment as our tongues danced together in a passionate embrace.
Touching her was like exploring uncharted territory, each curve and contour a new discovery waiting to be made. Her taste was intoxicating, a heady mix of sweet and savory that left me craving more. After pulling my fingers from her depths after her orgasm, I couldn't resist the urge to savor the evidence of her pleasure.
The taste was unique, a combination of muskiness and sweetness that was purely her own. She was still shaking, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release. As I licked my fingers clean, I couldn't help but groan in satisfaction. “Fuck,I missed this taste,” I murmured, my voice rough with desire. “You still taste like heaven, my little Flare.”
I watched her for a moment after she stepped back, the hallway light catching the color still on her cheeks. Part of me wanted to drag her back before she could return to that room, before Whitmore could look at her again with that concerned little expression he had no fucking right to wear. The thought of him standing when she came back, watching her mouth, asking if she was all right, made something vicious crawl under my skin.
The red dress disappeared down the hallway as she walked toward the reception, her steps quick and composed, as though she was determined to keep whatever had happened between us from showing on her face. I gave her a few seconds before following, because walking back into that room right behind her would have told everyone far too much, and I had no interest in handing the entire room a scandal to chew on.
When I stepped back into the reception hall, the music and laughter hit me at once, the warmth of the room closing around me as if nothing had happened. Across the room, I found their table immediately. Whitmore was already half out of his chair, his attention locked on Edwina as she returned, and the sight made my grip curl into a fist at my side.
He noticed her too quickly, the bastard. Worse, he looked worried. I kept my expression calm as I moved through the room, but every step carried something meaner beneath it, because watching another man rush to check on her after I had just had her mouth under mine made restraint feel like a fucking insult.
“There you are,” Whitmore said, his voice carrying across the table. “I was starting to think you got lost.”
Edwina reached for her champagne glass, using the movement to avoid looking at him directly. “I just needed some air.”
Whitmore studied her for a moment. “You look flushed.”
