Chapter 24
Katherine
Kath stood before the private room door, her hand trembling slightly as it rested on the handle.
She could feel the vibrations of the club's music through the floor, a dull, rhythmic pulse that matched her heartbeat.
Everything that had happened—the photograph, the threat, the fear—it all swirled inside her, threatening to pull her under.
But on the other side of this door was something else. Something she could control. Something that would make her forget, even if just for a little while.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The lock clicked loud in the quiet.
Intentional. Certain. A decision made, not taken lightly.
She hadn’t dressed to tempt—she’d chosen to reveal. To let truth settle where fabric once deceived.
No lace. No artifice. No barriers.
Only skin beneath silk. Honest. Unhidden.
Her breath stuttered. Her pulse was electric. Every nerve tuned to him, waiting for impact.
Erase it. Erase all of it. Crawford. The fear. The fight. Just—feel something else.
Ben was already there. Whiskey in hand. Legs spread like he owned this room.
No smirk. No taunt. Just something broken in his eyes.
And then—he looked up.
His gaze locked onto her with lethal precision. Unblinking. Slow. Possessive.
The air shifted, grew denser, taut with something unspoken. Her spine straightened, but her legs faltered beneath the weight of it.
"Come here," he said—quiet, guttural, as if the words had been carved out of restraint.
And she moved.
No tease. No pause. No games tonight.
Just obedience wrapped in need.
Kath moved toward him without hesitation, her body acting on instinct rather than thought. The world outside this room had disappeared—Crawford, the photograph, the threat against Lisa—all of it momentarily suspended in the gravity of his presence.
She reached him in three steps, her fingers already seeking the solid warmth of his shoulders.
One knee pressed into the chair beside his thigh, then the other followed, her weight settling against him as she straddled his lap.
The position was achingly familiar, yet entirely new—no performance tonight, no calculated moves designed to tease. Just raw need.
Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath the fabric. She pressed closer, fingers curling into his shirt, anchoring herself to him as though he were the only solid thing in a world gone liquid with fear.
Ben's hands found her waist immediately. Firm. Possessive. His fingers dug into the silk covering her skin, holding her with a certainty that made her breath catch. Not restraining her—staking his place like he belonged there.
And for a heartbeat—they didn't move.
The air between them felt charged, electric with something neither dared name. His eyes locked onto hers, searching for answers to questions he hadn't asked. She stared back, refusing to look away even as her pulse hammered wildly in her throat.
They just stared.
Just breathed.
Just burned.
She could feel the heat of him beneath her, the solid strength of his thighs supporting her weight. His breath ghosted across her lips, warm and whiskey-sweet. Every point of contact between them felt like a brand, marking her, changing her.
Kath felt herself drawn closer, unable to resist the magnetic pull between them.
They were close now—perilously close—and yet not nearly close enough.
Her forehead came to rest against his, their breath mingling in the small space between their lips.
Hot. Uneven. Charged with something dangerous and inevitable.
Her fingers slid upward, threading into his hair, tugging just enough to test his control. The response was immediate—a deep groan rumbled from his chest, his hips twitching beneath her in a small, involuntary movement that sent heat spiraling through her core.
Ben's hands on her hips tightened, fingers digging into her flesh like he was holding himself back from something reckless, something that would destroy them both. She could feel the tension in his body, tight and vibrating—like a fault line seconds before it breaks.
"Make me forget," she whispered against his mouth, the words half plea, half command.
Ben didn’t hesitate. The words tore through whatever self-control he had left, snapping something vital inside him. Instinct surged to the surface—raw, unfiltered, unstoppable.
His mouth crashed into hers with unyielding intensity, lips slanting over hers in a kiss that was all heat and pressure—no hesitation, no prelude.
His tongue followed, deep and sure, sweeping into her mouth like a promise he wasn’t ready to break.
He devoured her like he couldn’t get close enough, pulling her in until every inch of space between them vanished.
The taste of him—sweet vanilla and warm caramel whiskey, kissed with heat and something deeply male—melted across her tongue and lit her up from within.
Every breath of him curled around her senses, coaxing her deeper, pulling her under.
One hand slipped around to the back of her neck, his palm pressing firmly against the base of her skull—not to force, but to hold her there, locked against him. To keep her close. To make sure she didn’t go anywhere.
His mouth stayed locked on hers—urgent, consuming, relentless—kissing her like he was already losing her, like every second apart was a wound he couldn't afford to reopen.
Each breath she tried to take was stolen by his lips, and she gave in willingly, drowning in the heat of it, in him.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't slow. It was obliteration—a kiss that left no room for memory, no space for thought. Just sensation. Just need.
Kath moaned into his mouth, rolling her hips against him, chasing the sound of his answering groan. The friction was exquisite, maddening, and God—she was soaked already, the thin silk of her dress doing nothing to hide how desperately she wanted him.
Katherine felt Ben's hands sliding up her sides, his touch burning through the thin silk of her dress.
His fingers curled around the delicate straps, and with one swift, desperate motion, he tore them down.
The fabric gave way easily, slipping off her shoulders and pooling around her waist in a whisper of silk.
And then he froze.
Kath watched his expression shift, his eyes widening before darkening to something primal and hungry. His gaze raked over her exposed breasts—no lace, no pasties, no panty, nothing between them but the heated air of the private room.
"Fuck, Blondie. You really wanted this, didn't you?"
His voice was hoarse, feral, barely recognizable.
She didn't answer. She merely tilted her chin up, a silent challenge in her eyes even as her chest heaved with each ragged breath, even as her thighs trembled where they straddled his lap.
She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting how desperately she'd needed this—needed him—from the moment she'd walked through that door.
Ben didn't wait for her to speak. He didn't need words to understand what her body was already telling him.
His hands moved to cup her breasts, the heat of his palms almost scorching against her sensitive skin.
His thumbs dragged deliberately over her nipples, and she couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her lips, her back arching instinctively into his touch.
"That's a yes," he murmured, his lips finding the pulse point at her throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there as his fingers continued their torturous exploration.
His smug tone should have infuriated her, but all she could focus on was the heat building between her thighs, the way her body responded to his every touch like he owned it.
Katherine couldn't stand it anymore. Her fingers flew to his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against hers.
She fumbled with the buttons, cursing under her breath when they refused to yield fast enough. Impatience won out—she yanked, sending several buttons scattering across the floor with tiny plinks.
"Someone's eager," Ben murmured, his voice dark with amusement and something far more dangerous.
She didn't care. She couldn't care. She just needed to touch him, to feel him, to know this was real. She peeled the shirt from his shoulders, dragging it down his arms until he was bare before her.
His chest was all defined muscle. Heat radiated from his skin like a stormfront, promising devastation. Katherine's mouth went dry at the sight of him, at the raw masculine power barely contained beneath that smooth skin.
She dragged her nails down from his collarbone to his navel—slow and deliberate—leaving faint red trails in her wake. She watched, transfixed, as his muscles tensed beneath her touch.
God, he's unreal, she thought, unable to believe this man was here, beneath her hands, wanting her as desperately as she wanted him.
Ben hissed through his teeth, his hands tightening on her hips. He was letting her explore, letting her take control—for now. But Katherine could feel the restraint in his grip, the promise of what would happen when that control finally snapped.
She slid from his lap, kneeling between his legs. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for his belt, unbuckling it with a metallic clink that seemed too loud in the quiet room.
She tugged at his waistband, ready to free him.
But his hand caught her wrist, stopping her.
"You sure?" His voice was low, rough, but there was something else there—a question that went deeper than just this moment.
Katherine looked up at him, her chest rising and falling with each uneven breath. She felt utterly exposed, utterly bare before him—and not just physically. She'd never wanted anything more in her life than she wanted him right now.
She rose up, pressing her lips to his jaw, then his cheek, then finally capturing his mouth in a kiss that left no room for doubt.
"There's nothing I want more," she whispered against his lips.