I kept my eyes on the road, jaw clenched, hands steady on the wheel.
Suddenly, I heard her shift, felt her watching me. I didn't react. I didn't need to. Ugh, I'm starting to feel more awkward.
But then she moved again — just slightly — I felt it. The space between us popped..
And then…
Her lips pressed against mine.
Soft… sweet
A single jolt shot through me, melting down every thread of restraint I had left. Damn it.
The taste of her lips — warmt, salt, a trace of alcohol and mint — hit me like a punch. I slammed on the brakes. The car halted, tires skidding slightly against the road surface.
My hand gripped the wheel so tight my knuckles ached.
The kiss was unexpected, a soft brush against my lips that made me gasp.
She pulled back immediately, wide-eyed. Probably expecting me to tell her off. To pretend I didn't feel anything.
But I did.
God, I did.
The sight of her sitting there, uncertain and beautiful, was more than I could take.
"Fuck," I breathed, voice low, hoarse.
My mind was clouded and my blood was coursing through my veins. I wanted… more
Then I grabbed her.
My hand grabbing on to the fabric of her clothes as I pulled her toward me and crushed my mouth against hers. No hesitation. No thought. Just hunger — raw, immediate, impossible to deny.
She kissed me back just as hard, her fingers threading into my hair, nails scraping against my scalp. The contact made something sharp spread out in my chest.
I dragged her onto my lap, needing her closer, needing to drown in her, in this — whatever the hell this was. My hands slid over her thighs, her hips, gripping tight like I was engaging myself to something real.
Her body was soft and warm against mine, and her scent, a mix of sweetness and something almost wild, hit me like a bolt of lightning.
Her fingers were in my hair, tugging and pulling, and she moaned into my mouth. It was all so intense, so overwhelming, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away.
My body reacted, hard and demanding as I bite down at her lower lip, my hands roaming over her body without restraint. Her soft moans were the sweetest sound I have ever heard.
For a moment, the world outside the car didn't exist.
Just her. Her breath. Her skin. Her lips.
And then —
I stopped.
Pulled back.
My breath came out in harsh, uneven bursts as I stared at her, lips swollen, eyes glassy.
What the fuck was I doing?
My breathing was unsteady, chest rising and falling like I'd just come off a battlefield.
For a second, I didn't move.
Her body was still pressed against mine — warm, alive, reckless.
every of my nerve still wired from the taste of her, from the way she melted into me like she belonged there.
For a second, I didn't move. I needed the stillness — to wrestle back a sliver of control before I lost all of it.
Then, carefully, I lifted her off my lap. She shivered the moment we parted, and something inside me responded to that. I buckled her seatbelt, fingers brushing against the curve of her waist, slow, deliberate. I knew exactly what I was doing.
Click.
The belt snapped into place, but I wasn't done. My hand lingered on her shoulder, thumb grazing her skin once —
I didn't look at her. If I did, I wouldn't stop myself.
"Don't regret this decision," I said, my voice low, hoarse with restrained want. It wasn't a warning. It was a promise.
Because I wasn't taking her home to forget any of this.
I was taking her home to finish what we started.
Properly.
I turned back to the wheel and hit the accelerator. The engine growled beneath us like it knew exactly where we were going.
She fell asleep halfway through the drive.
I noticed when her breathing shifted—slower, softer. Her head leaned toward the window, lashes fanned over flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted. She looked peaceful. Beautiful. Completely unaware of the effect she still had on me, even in sleep.
I didn't wake her.
Instead, I drove the rest of the way in silence, the night swallowing us whole as the city lights faded behind. My place sat on the outskirts, private, tucked away from the noise and chaos. For nights like this, maybe. For moments I never planned to happen.
The gates swung open before I even reached them—Thomas, as efficient as ever. He knew better than to ask questions.
I drove through the long, winding driveway, the headlights casting shadows along the tall hedges and marble statues lining the path. The mansion loomed ahead, dark stone and glass, quiet and waiting. Home, though it rarely ever felt like one.
Thomas was already waiting by the entrance, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back. I didn't acknowledge him with more than a nod as I parked the car directly in front of the main steps.
I stepped out, walking around to the passenger side. The door opened with a soft click, and I found her still asleep—head tilted slightly, chest rising and falling in even rhythm. She hadn't stirred once since the last red light. Not even when we hit the road.
I stood there for a second, unmoving. Then I leaned down and slipped my arms under her body.
She didn't wake—not even when I lifted her into my arms, careful not to wake her up. She was warm and soft against me, her head falling gently against my chest.
Why was I doing this?
I didn't know.
I could've woken her. Could've told Thomas to handle it. Could've left her in the car. Hell, I didn't even bring people here. Not like this. Not unconscious. Not… vulnerable.
But I carried her anyway.
Because somehow, for some reason I wasn't ready to name, I didn't want her anywhere else.
Thomas stepped aside without a word, though I caught the subtle raise of his brow. He'd ask later. Or not at all. That was what I paid him for.
Inside, the marble floors echoed beneath my steps. I headed straight for the guest room on the east wing─furthest from my own, but clean, comfortable, quiet. As I reached the door, I glanced down at her sleeping face.
Still peaceful.
Still wrecking my world without even trying.
I shifted her gently, reaching for the door handle.
I am just being polite, I repeat to myself.
I pushed open the door to the guest room, cradling her against my chest like something fragile. My arm had gone a little numb from the weight, but I didn't care. She was light─lighter than I expected─and warm. Too warm.
I stepped inside, already mapping the path to the bed, when I felt her shift in my hold.
Then I heard it.
A low, wet sound─followed by the violent wobble of her body.
Before I could react, she turned her head─and vomited. All over my shirt. Down the front of me. Warm, acidic, smelly.
My entire body went still.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sharp, wet splatter of it hitting the marble floor, my shoes, the sleeve of my damn coat.
I blinked.
She moaned softly, clearly still half-asleep, and sank back against me like nothing happened. My jaw tightened, a muscle ticking near my temple.
Of course.
Of course this would happen.
I looked down at the wreckage wiped across my once-pristine shirt and let out a slow, unbelieving breath.
"Unbelievable," I muttered, though my voice lacked real anger. I was too tired. Too thrown off. Too… something. Ugh I'm so disgusted.
She whimpered again.
And against all reason, I adjusted my grip, held her tighter─making sure she didn't slide. Then I carried her the rest of the way in and gently set her down on the bed, resisting the urge to swear again.
I stared down at her, now curled on her side, sleeping like the world hadn't just turned into a biohazard zone.
This girl was chaos.
Pure, ridiculous, messy chaos.
And God help me… I still didn't want to walk away. What on earth is wrong with me…
I stepped back from the bed, careful not to let the mess on my shirt drip any further. My fingers flexed at my sides, the urge to tear the thing off building by the second. I turned away before I gave in to it, pacing out of the room with long, controlled strides.
The butler was waiting just down the hall, his expression unreadable as always. I stopped in front of him, voice low.
"Have someone clean the guest room. She─" I hesitated, disgusted. "She threw up. On me."
He nodded once, already professional about it. I glanced down at the vomit streaking my clothes and added tightly, "Send a maid in. Get her out of that dress and into one of my shirts. Something loose. Comfortable."
Thomas tilted his head slightly. "Sir?"
"I'm not touching her," I said sharply, jaw clenched. "Not without her permission."
His expression didn't change, but he dipped his head in acknowledgment.
"And burn the dress," I muttered, heading for my room. "Or bleach it. I don't care."
Once inside my room, I peeled the shirt off with a disgusted sigh, tossing it straight into the clothes lift. The smell still clung to me, smelly and bitter. I turned on the shower, stepping under the spray without waiting for it to warm.
The cold hit me hard, but it helped.
I stood there for a while, letting the water pound against my back, jaw tight, eyes closed. She was trouble─drunk, reckless, and unpredictable. And still, something about her made it impossible for me to walk away.
It wasn't just attraction. It was something worse.
Something that felt like curiosity… laced with the kind of pukll I hadn't felt in a long time.
I placed a hand down my face, already regretting everything—and somehow wanting more of it at the same time.
When I stepped out, towel slung low on my hips, I heard soft footsteps down the hall and a maid's quiet voice. They were doing what I asked.
Good.
I dried off, dressed in black sweatpants and a plain T-shirt, and walked back to the guest room.
She was still out cold, her hair scattered across the pillow, now wearing one of my shirts. The room smelled faintly of lavender and bleach. Fresh linens. Clean air.
And her.
I stood there for a long moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, arms crossed over mine.
Then I turned and shut the door behind me.