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I recall every moment of how he felt inside me, how his mouth and fingers brought me pleasure I never knew before. With a soft kiss, Ares makes me shiver as he cocoons me from behind. He’s a head taller than me, and I have to tilt my face ever so slightly to meet his hazel gaze.
“You look…” He allows the words to filter into nothing. I’ve never wanted to impress anyone before. Never craved attention or the validation from anyone in my life. But I want to hear it from him.
“I do?” I quip, my brow arching in question.
“You definitely do.” He turns me around, so we’re face to face, and I take in his strong, smooth jawline, his full lips, sharp nose, and those beautiful eyes that shine with everything and nothing all at the same time.
“So do you,” I tell him.
“You in that dress…” He shakes his head. “It makes me want to rip it from your body and bend you over in front of this mirror, so I can show you how much I want you.” The raw honesty in his words causes a tremble to travel from the top of my head all the way down to my toes.
“If you rip it off, I’ll have nothing to wear,” I tell him. “And I don’t think you want me attending the dinner without clothes on.” I intend for him to notice the inflection when I mention the word dinner. I’m not sure what they’re hiding, but somehow, I know Ares won’t give me the full story, even if I ask.
“That’s true. I’m the only person allowed to see you naked.”
“Right. So, will you tell me what tonight is about?”
“No.” Short, clipped, nothing more. “But you look breathtaking.” Ares presses a kiss on my mouth, the minty taste of him has me craving more. “I wish we could run away, never come back to Tynewood.”
“Why? It’s your home.”
When those hazel eyes meet mine, he nods. “It is. But sometimes there’s more to life than a house you grew up in. Sometimes the truth clears your ideals and makes you want more.”
“Do you enjoy speaking in riddles?”
His mouth tilts into a handsome grin, which makes his eyes sparkle, and I’m once again enamored by Ares Lancaster. He’s an asshole at the best of times, but every now and then, he offers a glimpse into the man underneath the cold veneer.
“I like to see you smile.” And there it is, the gentleman hiding in the shadows of a normally cold-hearted bastard. “Tonight won’t be easy,” he informs me.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re going to learn more about my father and me, and you’ll learn about your dad,” he utters with pained contempt. Guilt flashes in his eyes when he sees me wince at the mention of my father. Does he truly understand the heartache I feel? Yes. He lost his mother, but it wasn’t because of her job or because she was sick.
“How can the past have so much influence on the future?” I turn away from him, not wanting to see the emotions in his gaze anymore. Lowering my head, I stare at my feet. The sparkling heels I’m wearing shimmer with promise, but I know we’re about to walk into nothing but war.
“It doesn’t have to.”
I don’t turn to him when he says this because I know the moment I do, I’ll reconsider his offer to run away. As much as Ares annoys me at the best of times, he also makes me feel things. He knows deep down I have darkness in me, and it matches his own.
“Look at me, little flower,” he insists, but this time, I don’t obey. I can’t.
Before any more words tumble between us, his hand lands on my back, forcing me to bend for him. The hem of my dress is flicked over my hips, and my panties are bare to him.
“What are you doing?” My question is mumbled. But Ares ignores me as he kicks my legs open. He doesn’t wait for me to stop him. His fingers tug the material to the side before slipping inside me as he taunts me.
“You look so fucking good bent over for me,” he praises, low and feral as he adds a second finger, opening me, spreading me for him. “Your little pussy is soaked, Dahlia,” he tells me something I already know because every pump of his fingers causes my walls to tighten around his ministrations.
“Please, fuck, I need to come,” I plead with him. My palms are flat against the mirror, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes wide and shiny with desire, and the way Ares stares at me in the glass makes my knees buckle from the pleasure that’s slowly consuming me.
“You’re mine,” he tells me earnestly, our gazes locked in a heated standoff. I want to refute him, tell him that he’s dreaming, but it’s not a lie. “Tell me, Dahlia.” His request is gravel over my skin, causing a shiver to race down my spine and a shiver to attack my body.
