Chapter 6
Alexander
The taste of you still burned on my tongue as I drove through the slick, rain-glossed streets of the city. one hand on the wheel. The other gripping yours with a certainty that startled even me—like your hand belonged in mine, like you belonged exactly where I had you.
That kiss had detonated something in me.
You didn’t shy away. You didn’t gasp and push me back. No, you leaned in, soft mouth hungry, like you’d been starving for something you didn’t yet know how to ask for. For me.
My jaw flexed as I stole a glance at you, lit only by the dim wash of the dashboard lights. Your cheeks were flushed, lips kiss-bruised, pupils blown wide. Your chest rose and fell like every breath was a negotiation. Good. You weren’t supposed to breathe around me unless I gave you permission.
“You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” I muttered, voice low enough to vibrate between us. “You think you’re this quiet little shadow at work…”
I shook my head, grip tightening around the wheel. “…but you walk into a room, Evelyn, and I fucking feel it.”
You turned your head like you might pretend you didn’t affect me—but your thighs pressed together, betraying you.
Your hand tightened around mine like you were clinging to the only solid thing in the world.
By the time we pulled into the underground garage of my building, restraint was a thin, fraying thread.
The moment the car stopped, I stepped out, came around, and opened your door. Not out of courtesy. Not out of politeness. Out of control. Out of possession. Out of the need to guide you, touch you, keep you close.
You stood—legs unsteady, breath uneven, pupils still blown from champagne and something far more dangerous: desire.
I stepped into your space, close enough that my breath brushed your cheek.
“You sure you want this?” I murmured, my voice a velvet blade. “I need to hear you say it.” Your lips parted, but I didn’t let you answer—not yet. “Because once you step into that elevator with me, Evelyn…”
My fingers brushed your jaw, tilting your face up. “…I’m not stopping.”
My thumb brushed your lower lip, slow, deliberate. “Not tonight.”
I leaned closer, my mouth ghosting over your cheek, your ear, your throat—all without touching, all threat and promise. “Not until I’ve ruined every man who ever made you feel like you weren’t enough. You’ll never be alone again.”
You shivered—not from cold. From possibility.
From me.