Chapter 6
6
ATLAS
I didn’t mean to follow her.
Every part of me screamed to walk away, to let her vanish into the shadows like a fever dream I could forget. But I couldn’t. Not when her fingers were tangled in mine. Not when her lips had already tasted like something I’d kill to remember.
Anna didn’t look back.
She didn’t have to.
I followed, silent, powerful, her gravity pulling me deeper into the dark like a tide I couldn’t resist. The hallway twisted away from the party, the hum of music fading behind us, replaced by the pounding of my pulse in my ears. Stone walls. Vines. Soft lantern light.
She turned to face me, her dress clinging to her like it wanted to be torn off.
And I nearly lost control right then.
My hands braced against the wall, boxing her in. She didn’t flinch—just looked up at me with those wanting eyes. Eyes that dared me to take what she was offering.
“This isn’t right,” I said, voice low and raw.
Her lips curled in a smile that was all heat. “And yet, here we are.”
My breath caught. My restraint cracked. And when she reached for me—when her fingers found the lapels of my tux, when she lifted her face toward mine—I fell.
Our mouths crashed together.
She tasted like champagne and sin. Sweet and heady and maddening. Her lips parted beneath mine, soft and eager, and I drank her in like I’d been crawling through the desert. My tongue slid into her mouth, stroking deep, claiming her in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and heat. Her moan vibrated against my chest.
I grabbed her hips, hard enough to make her gasp, and lifted her in one fluid motion. She wrapped her legs around me like they belonged there, grinding against the thick bulge straining in my slacks.
She was so warm. So ready. I could feel her heat through the fabric, damp and tempting.
She wanted me. All of me.
And I was going to give it to her.
I spun us, pressing her back to the stone wall, one hand already sliding up her thigh. I found the slit in her dress, shoved the silk aside, and then I was there—stroking between her legs, fingers gliding through slick heat.
No panties.
A low groan escaped me.
I shoved two fingers inside her. Deep. She cried out, her hips rocking against my hand. Tight, wet, pulsing around me like her body was already clinging to what was coming.
My cock throbbed painfully.
I needed her. Now.
I released her just long enough to undo my belt and shove my pants down. My cock sprang free, thick and heavy and ready. She looked down between us, her pupils blown wide, lips parted in awe.
She reached down and wrapped her hand around it. Then she looked back up and whispered, “Please.”
I didn’t give her time to beg again.
I lined myself up, dragged the swollen head through her wetness, then drove in.
Deep.
Hard.
She cried out, clutching at my shoulders as I filled her. Her walls clamped around me, slick and tight and perfect . I growled her name into the crook of her neck as I sank to the hilt.
She arched against me. “God, Atlas?—”
I pulled back and slammed in again, setting a brutal rhythm. She was already panting, her hands scrambling for purchase, her back arching off the wall.
I grabbed one of her thighs, hiked it higher over my hip, and slammed in again. Her gasp turned into a moan, her head falling back as I took her, rough and relentless.
“Look at me,” I demanded, thrusting deep.
She opened her eyes, and it broke me.
I drove into her harder, faster, the wet slap of skin echoing off stone. I gripped her ass, dragged her hips down to meet every thrust, grinding deep inside her.
“God, you feel—so—fucking—good,” I grunted between strokes.
Her mouth opened on a silent cry. “I’m—Atlas—I’m?—”
I kissed her again, devouring the sound as she shattered around me. Her inner muscles clamped down, pulsing, milking me as she came hard on my cock. Her whole body shook in my arms.
That was all it took.
I gritted my teeth, thrust twice more, then buried myself deep and let go. Heat poured into her as I groaned into her mouth, holding her tight, pulsing through wave after wave of release.
We were shaking.
Panting.
Bound together by sweat and breath and something I didn’t want to name.
And then?—
Reality returned.
Like a cold wind through a broken window.
I felt the wet heat between us. The weight of her legs still wrapped around me. The way her fingers clung to my neck, gentle now. Trusting.
What the hell had I done?
The voice in my head—quiet through the storm—was roaring now.
You idiot. You let her in. You let it happen again.
I slowly set her down, guiding her back to the ground like she was fragile—when really, I was the one breaking.
“Atlas,” she whispered, still dazed.
I couldn’t look at her.
I tucked myself back in, buttoned my pants with stiff, shaking fingers. Her hands reached for me, slow, unsure.
I stepped out of reach.
Her brows pulled together. “What’s wrong?”
Everything.
Everything was wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice flat, hollow.
“Wait—what?” Her expression shifted, confusion cutting through the afterglow.
I didn’t answer.
I just walked away. Fast. Not looking back. Each step a retreat into the man I had trained myself to be—the one who didn’t trust, didn’t feel, didn’t let anyone close enough to hurt him again.
Anna had seen too much already.
I couldn’t let her see more.