Chapter 2
Chapter Two
ARIA
I blamed the tequila for what came out of my mouth in the elevator.
"I want you to ruin me."
The words hung in the air between us, and some distant part of my brain—the part that was still Aria Romano, perfect daughter—screamed that good girls didn't say things like that.
But that girl had died somewhere between the club and this elevator, and the one pressed against the wall with Kai's hand sliding up her thigh?
She didn't give a damn about being good.
Kai went very still. His fingers tightened on my leg, and when he looked at me, his eyes were so dark they were almost black.
"The alcohol—" I started, but he cut me off.
His mouth came down on mine, hard and demanding, swallowing whatever excuse I'd been about to make.
This wasn't like the kiss outside. That had been testing, careful.
This was raw hunger. His tongue swept past my lips and I opened for him, my back arching off the elevator wall as his hand moved higher, fingers brushing against lace.
The elevator dinged but I barely heard it. His thumb pressed against me through the thin fabric and pleasure shot through me so sharp I gasped into his mouth.
"Kai—"
He pulled back, breathing hard, and grabbed my hand. "Move."
We stumbled down the hallway. My legs weren't working properly, still shaking from that brief touch. He fumbled with the key card, cursed when it didn't work the first time, finally got the door open.
We barely made it inside before his hands were in my hair, tilting my head back, his mouth hot against my neck. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, trying to pull him closer even though there was no space left between us.
My back hit the wall. His hips pressed against mine and I could feel how hard he was, could feel exactly how much he wanted this. The evidence of his desire made something hot and desperate unfurl in my stomach.
His hands found the zipper of my dress. The sound of it lowering seemed impossibly loud. Cool air kissed my skin as the fabric loosened, then his hands were sliding the straps down my shoulders, peeling the dress away until it pooled at my feet.
I stood there in black lace and nothing else, my chest heaving, my skin flushed everywhere his eyes touched.
He stepped back, just looking at me. His hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was physically restraining himself.
"Perfect." His voice was wrecked. "You're so fucking perfect."
Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us. His hands spanned my waist, lifting me, and I wrapped my legs around him on instinct. He carried me to the bed, laying me down on silk sheets that felt cool against my overheated skin.
His body covered mine, solid and heavy and exactly what I needed. His mouth found mine again while his hands explored—sliding up my ribs, cupping my breasts through lace, thumb brushing across my nipple until I arched into his touch.
I'd never been touched like this. Never felt this overwhelming need to get closer, to have more, to feel everything all at once. My hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally giving up and just pulling until they popped free.
His skin was hot under my palms. Smooth muscle and hard lines and scattered scars I wanted to trace with my tongue. He shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it aside, and the sight of him made my mouth go dry.
His hand slid behind my back, finding the clasp of my bra. The lace fell away and suddenly I was bare from the waist up, my breasts exposed to his gaze.
I should have felt self-conscious. Should have wanted to cover myself. Instead, all I felt was impatient.
His head dipped, mouth finding my breast, and white-hot pleasure shot through me. His tongue circled my nipple before his teeth grazed it, just enough to sting, and I made a sound I'd never made before—high and desperate and completely beyond my control.
"That's it." His voice was pure gravel against my skin. "Let me hear you."
His hand slid down my stomach, fingers hooking into the lace at my hips. He looked up at me, asking permission without words.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He pulled the lace down my legs slowly, torturously, his eyes never leaving mine. Then I was completely naked, spread out on expensive sheets while he looked at me like I was something precious and profane all at once.
His hands moved up my legs, starting at my ankles, fingers trailing fire up my calves, my thighs, spreading them wider. I was shaking, my entire body wound so tight I thought I might shatter.
When his fingers finally touched me where I needed him most, I nearly came apart right then. He groaned, his forehead dropping to my stomach.
"So wet." His thumb circled, and stars exploded behind my eyes. "Is this all for me?"
I couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Just nodded frantically, my hips lifting toward his hand.
He worked me with his fingers, building pressure and heat until I was writhing beneath him, making sounds that should have embarrassed me but didn't. Nothing mattered except his hands, his mouth, the way he was taking me apart piece by piece.
Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, when the pressure was so intense I was begging without words, he pulled away. I made a sound of protest but he was already moving, standing to remove the rest of his clothes. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband, pushing them down. His cock sprang free, hard and flushed, the tip already glistening. My eyes widened. He’s—god, he’s huge.
The sight of him fully naked made my breath catch. He was beautiful in a way that seemed almost unfair. All lean muscle and controlled power and hard evidence of how much he wanted me.
He came back to the bed, settling between my legs, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His mouth found mine while his hand guided himself to my entrance.
His hand traced from my collarbone down between my breasts, over my stomach. " You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
My face burned. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. No one had ever looked at me like this—like they wanted to consume me whole.
I was bare from the waist up, exposed and vulnerable and more turned on than I'd ever been in my life.
Kai didn't move. Didn't touch. Just looked at me like I was something sacred.
"Please." I didn't even know what I was begging for. Just knew I needed something. Needed him to touch me before I lost my mind.
His hand came up, palm cupping my breast. His thumb brushed across the peak and pleasure shot straight through me, sharp and electric.
I gasped, my back arching into his touch.
"Sensitive." He sounded satisfied. Pleased. His thumb circled again, and I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped. "I'm going to enjoy finding out what else makes you sound like that."
Then his mouth replaced his hand— His teeth grazed my lower lip, just enough to sting, and I whimpered into his mouth. God, he tastes like sin.
He pulled back just enough to study my face, his dark eyes burning into mine like he was searching for any hint of hesitation.
I didn’t let myself look away. I couldn’t.
There was something in his gaze—something feral, something hungry—that made my stomach clench.
The city lights bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, painting his sharp features in gold and shadow, turning him into something otherworldly. A god. A devil. Mine.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then his hands were on me again, but slower this time, deliberate.
He guided me backward, step by step, until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the circular bed.
The silk sheets whispered against my skin as I sank onto the mattress, my pulse roaring in my ears
The sound of the teeth parting was obscenely loud in the quiet of the suite.
I should’ve felt exposed. Vulnerable. But the way he looked at me—like I was something rare, something precious—made my chest tighten.
His palm cupped one, his thumb circling the peak before he pinched—just enough to make me gasp.
Then his mouth was on me, hot and wet, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before he sucked it between his lips.
“Kai—” His name tore from my throat, half plea, half prayer. His free hand slid down my stomach, his fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I stiffened, my breath hitching.
He froze. His head lifted, his dark eyes locking onto mine. “Have you…?”
I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. “I haven’t.”
Something shifted in his gaze. A flicker of something primal, something possessive. His thumb brushed my hipbone, slow, soothing. “You can say no,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “I won’t resent you.”
I shook my head, my fingers curling into the crisp fabric of his shirt. “I’d resent you if you stopped.” The words came out steadier than I felt. “I want it to be you. Only you.”
His nostrils flared. His jaw clenched, like he was fighting for control. “Are you sure?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Keep going.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t move. Then his mouth was on mine again, harder this time, his kiss bruising.
His hands were everywhere—tangling in my hair, gripping my waist, sliding down to my thighs, pushing them apart.
He knelt before me, his breath hot against the damp lace of my panties.
“Let me prepare you,” he growled, his voice a dark promise.
I should’ve been nervous. Terrified, even. But the way he looked at me—like he was worshipping at an altar—made my pulse race for entirely different reasons. Cool air hit my bare skin, and then his hands were on my thighs, pushing them wider, exposing me completely.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my folds. I trembled, my hands fisting in the silk sheets beneath me. Then his mouth was on me, his tongue flat and hot against my slit, dragging up in one slow, deliberate stroke.