Empire of Lies and Flames (Ruins of Power #1)

Chapter 7

RENéE

Keep it cool, Renée. It was just a dare.

The mantra played on a loop in my head as I threw back a shot of tequila, the burn doing nothing to drown out the buzzing on my lips. I could still feel the kiss, vivid and electric, like it had left a brand behind.

Around me, my friends were frozen, staring at me like I’d just grown wings. Elise blinked, her glass dangling precariously in her hand. “Wait… did you seriously just kiss Javier Densmore ? Or am I officially too drunk to function?”

“You’re not seeing things,” Mia chimed in. “She actually kissed him. Kissed him! ” She flopped back into her chair, clutching her stomach. “I thought you were gonna deck him, but nope—you went right in for the kill.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing for another shot, but Rose lunged across the table, stopping me mid-reach. “Renée, oh my God. I had no idea this would happen! I swear, if I’d known—”

“It’s fine,” I cut her off, maybe a little too quickly. My voice sounded calm, but my mind? Full riot mode.

“Fine?” Ruth’s hand landed on my shoulder; her face etched with concern. “You just kissed the guy you complain about 24/7, and you’re fine ? Are you sure?”

Honestly? No. I wasn’t sure about anything anymore. That kiss had been… unexpected. More than that, it had felt dangerous. His lips had been warmer than I’d imagined (not that I’d imagined, obviously), firm yet soft, and it had been over too quickly—too much and not enough, all at once. And then there was that moment, right before we broke apart, where his hand had almost— almost —reached for me.

“Look at him,” Ava’s voice broke into my thoughts, her gaze fixed on a table across the room. “Sitting there like he didn’t just get kissed by someone way out of his league.”

I snorted, but her words sent an involuntary rush of heat to my cheeks. “Out of his league” wasn’t how I’d describe it, but… wait. Was he looking over here?

Against my better judgment, my eyes flicked toward him. Sure enough, there he was, Javier Mase in all his infuriating glory. Sitting with his friends, straight-backed, composed, and completely unreadable. For a moment, I thought I’d gotten away with it—until his lips twitched. Just barely. But it was there.

And then his eyes locked onto mine, steady and unflinching.

My stomach flipped.

The moment stretched, an invisible thread pulling taut between us. His expression gave nothing away, but his eyes… there was something there, something that made my breath hitch. Was that—was that a smile?

Ava nudged me, her voice low. “What’s happening right now? Are you two… communicating or something?”

I blinked, snapping my gaze back to the table. “Nope,” I muttered, reaching for another drink like my life depended on it. “Definitely not.”

But the tequila didn’t erase the memory of his lips, or the scent of his cologne that lingered like a whisper in the back of my mind.

And it didn’t erase the reckless little thought buzzing in my head: What if he felt it too?

I told myself to stay calm—easier said than done with Javier pinning me down.

The heat that shot through me as he pressed me into the mattress felt like wildfire. His touch was firm, so deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing, each movement sending shivers over my skin. Before I even realized it, he had my wrists pinned above my head, his grip just rough enough to make me feel completely at his mercy. His other hand trailed up to my neck, adding just the right amount of pressure to keep me on edge.

He knew what he was doing.

And damn if I didn’t like it. His mouth captured mine with raw hunger, his kiss claiming me like he’d been waiting ages for this moment. I could feel it—the rough edge in each kiss, the low, breathless moans we both made, mingling in the air between us as his mouth moved to my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, leaving little marks, staking a claim I couldn’t shake even if I wanted to.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and thick as he rocked his hips against mine, his heat matching my own. My body arched up to meet him, craving more, as his hand left my neck, tracing a line down my body—slow, teasing, making me shiver until his fingers slipped between my legs.

A tremor went through me as he nudged my underwear aside, his fingers finding that perfect spot. My hips moved instinctively, and a soft, helpless moan escaped before I could stop it.

“Javier,” I gasped, his name tumbling out without a thought, almost like a plea, as his fingers teased me in a maddening, slow rhythm that only made me want him more. My gaze locked with his, my body trembling, every nerve tingling, pulling me deeper into whatever spell he was casting.

Then he added another finger, slipping between my folds, and my head tipped back, lost in the sensation. His voice, rough and possessive, cut through the haze.

“That’s right,” he breathed, his fingers pressing deeper, pushing me higher. “Only I can make you feel like this. Only I can take you this high.”

And then he was inside me, moving slowly, purposefully, as everything else faded away, leaving just his touch, his weight, and this need that felt like it might tear me apart.

I jolted awake, gasping, fingers still tucked between my legs like a damn fool. For a second, I just lay there, trapped between the hot mess of that dream and the uncomfortable reality of my own… situation . My heart was racing, and every inch of me could still feel him—his hands, his mouth, the way his voice felt when he cursed under his breath. The weight of his body, his lips—ugh, it all felt so real.

Except it wasn’t. I blinked, taking in my familiar room. Just me, alone under my duvet, fingers embarrassingly damp from, well, the aftermath of whatever wild fantasy my subconscious thought was necessary to ruin my night. Shame and confusion came crashing in as I yanked my hand away, squeezing my eyes shut, praying I could scrub the whole thing from my brain.

Why him? Why Javier, of all people?

A fresh wave of loathing hit me. I couldn’t stand him—honestly, he drives me up the wall—and yet here I was, dreaming about him in the kind of way that has me waking up breathless. It made zero sense. I hadn’t been with anyone in years, sure, but I wasn’t that desperate. Definitely not desperate enough to be dreaming about Javier of all people.

There’s no way I’d ever end up in bed with him. Even in some twisted, impossible scenario, it couldn’t be half as intense as that dream made it out to be. No one’s that good of a kisser, especially not Javier—a guy whose mouth seems only good for spouting nonsense. The thought of his hands, those thick fingers, his muscles—no, absolutely not. I shut it down before it got any further. Nope. Not happening.

It was just a dream—a wild, ridiculous dream. I would never let myself get wrapped up in someone like him, no matter how intense the pull might feel at the moment. Getting involved with someone I can barely tolerate? Completely out of the question. And it’s not like Javier feels anything like that for me, either. We hardly even talk outside work, and when we do, it’s strictly business. I do my best to avoid him, and he’s usually too busy to be around, anyway. It’s not like we’re giving each other secret glances across the office or anything. Our connection is nonexistent, aside from the occasional nod or “what’s the status on this.”

But still, there was this stupid thrill lurking under it all, something I couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried.

I tossed and turned, but sleep wasn’t coming back. Not after that . With an annoyed sigh, I threw off the duvet and sat up. I needed a distraction, something to clear my head and yank me out of this ridiculous state. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my notifications mindlessly until one caught my attention: a reminder for the annual party next week.