His To Ruin Of Lust Desire and Obsessions

The champagne burned sweeter than it should've.

I tipped the glass back anyway, letting it wash over the taste of the lie on my lips and the ache in my chest. I wasn't supposed to be here. Not in this club. Not in this dress. And definitely not in his world.

But the thing about wanting to forget, you'll do anything to lose yourself.

 Tonight , I needed to forget.

Forget who I was.

Forget who I belonged to.

Forget the name of the man I'd been promised to marry.

The club pulsed around me, dark and dripping with desire. Bodies pressed, moaned, moved. I needed air. Space. Anything but this suffocating cage of glitter and heat.

I wandered down a hallway that was quieter, less crowded. Red velvet walls. Gilded doors. A hallway that whispered secrets with every step I took. My heels echoed until I found a door that was half-open, light spilling out like temptation.

I didn't knock. I just stepped inside.

He was there.

Alone.

Leaning back in a black leather armchair like he owned the air around him. A glass of something dark in his hand. His shirt half-open, revealing a chest inked in black lines and sharp sin. His tie undone, hair tousled, jaw shadowed with stubble.

I stopped breathing. He was a fine man, my eyes are blurry but I know he is a fine man.

My heart stuttered. I shouldn't be here. I'm engaged, somebody wife to be. 

He looked up at me through half-lidded eyes, slow and lazy like a lion toying with its prey. His gaze dragged across my body in a way that made my thighs clench.

"You're not supposed to be here."

His voice was smoke and gravel. Laced with something dangerous.

"I-I got lost," I whispered. My voice was breathless, thin. "Thought this was the bathroom."

His lips quirked. Not a smile. Just amusement. Dark and unreadable.

"You always walk into strange men's rooms wearing dresses like that?"

I glanced down.

The dress clung to me like it was painted on. Barely-there silk. No bra. No shame.

Blame the champagne.

Blame the fucking engagement I had no say about. 

Blame him for looking at me like I was something he'd already imagined on his tongue.

"Didn't mean to interrupt." I took a step back, but the door clicked shut behind me.

"You didn't." He took a long sip from his glass. "Unless you're planning on running. In that case..."

His eyes darkened.

"...don't."

I didn't move.

Something electric snapped between us. Sharp. Wild. Forbidden.

"You're drunk," I said, my voice shaking.

"So are you."

And it was true. I could feel it in my blood. Warm. Heavy. Reckless.

He set his glass down with a thud and stood.

My breath caught.

He was taller than I remembered.

Wider. Meaner.

"Come here," he said.

I didn't think. I just obeyed.

Step by step until there was no air between us. Just heat. Just breath. Just danger.

His hand lifted to my jaw. Fingers rough. Thumb brushing my lower lip.

"You looked delicious," he murmured. "You know that, right?"

"Yes," I whispered. I should have left at that moment. But I told myself there is nothing wrong with one last night of fling. A good sex where you can be bad as you want.

His thumb slid into my mouth.

I sucked on it.

Something snapped in his eyes.

He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me.

Not soft.

Not sweet.

Claiming.