CHAPTER 4
Invitation
“I love all of you. The good and bad.”
His voice echoes like it’s underwater. We’re not kissing. Breathing hard, mouths inches apart, breathing the same air. I squeeze my eyes shut as he tries to fit his entire length inside me. It hurts for a few seconds, but when he starts to move, the pain is replaced by a pleasurable fullness that makes me moan. Arousal is gathering low in my stomach, and my intimate part throbs from how potent it is.
“Like that,” he echoes, biting me again.
He’s sliding inside me causing me to shudder from how fucking good it feels. “Don’t stop,” I gasp, my head falling back and my legs widening. Another moan bounces off the stone walls when he heeds my request.
“Open wider,my love, I need more of you.” I do as he says, hiking my knees as far up as I can. It feels like I’m on the verge of losing control of my bladder, yet it mingles with the acute need to come. But I don’t want to give him that. I don’t want to lose myself completely.
So I give him a wicked smile and climb on top of him. I’m above him now. Just how I like it. My hands are now around his throat, pressing just enough to feel control. His face beneath me is infuriatingly beautiful. His eyes flicker, confusion bleeding into something else. His mouth parts like he’s about to say my name.
Or apologize.
Or lie.
His pulse beats against my palms. Fast. Fragile. For a second, I tighten my grip. Just to feel what it’s like to have power instead of questions. His eyes glaze, dimming slowly, like a light lowering in a room no one plans to return to.
I wake up gasping, sitting upright in a bed that isn’t mine.
It’s just a dream.
The betrayal, though, that part isn’t imagined. That part is real. Sharper than sleep. Heavier than fantasy. It presses against my ribs like something trying to break through.
Not grief. Not love. Something darker.
I glance at my phone. 4:30 p.m. For a moment, I just sit there, letting the number settle. My lungs still feel heavy from the dream. I push the covers aside and sit up slowly. I need a shower. I need cold water. I need something, anything, that doesn’t involve Dominic.
He chose her.
Not me.
The thought lands differently now. Less explosive. More permanent.
Tonight, I choose myself.
The shower runs hot at first. I stand under it longer than necessary, letting the water hit my shoulders until my skin turns pink. I scrub like betrayal is something physical I can rinse off.
It isn’t. It lingers.
When I step out, I don’t overthink what to wear. Dark jeans that fit the way they’re supposed to. Black boots with just enough heel to change my posture. A fitted black top, simple, but deliberate. Not careless. Nottrying too hard. I clasp the delicate gold chain around my neck, the small key charm catching the light.
I used to think it meant holding onto things. Tonight, it feels more like letting something go. In the mirror, I don’t look healed, just composed.
That’s enough.
Lucien is waiting in the lobby when I step off the elevator. He’s changed. Dark green button-down, the color deep enough to pull the color from his eyes and make them sharper. The sleeves are rolled neatly to his forearms.
And there it is again. My weakness. Rolled-up sleeves. There’s something about a man’s forearms exposed like that, controlled strength without showing off. Effort without effort. The shirt fits him cleanly across his shoulders. Tailored black trousers. Polished shoes.
Nothing flashy. Just… put together.
His face is unfair. Strong lines, a straight nose, a jaw so defined it looks sculpted rather than grown. Dark blond hair falls slightly out of place, the kind that looks like he’s run his hand through it instead of bothering with a mirror. There’s something almost mythic about him, like a modern version of some hero who traded armor for cufflinks. He looks like he belongs in marble.
And I hate that my stomach flips.