Chapter 3: Lines and Temptations
I don't dream.
Not since I was twenty-two and buried every soft thing in me beneath money, sex, and signed deals. But last night, I dreamed of Aria Langley.
Not her face.
Her voice.
Soft. Gaspy. Whispering my name.
The way it might sound if I—
No.
I snapped awake with her name in my mouth and my body burning like I hadn't touched a woman in months.
Truth was… I hadn't. Not since the first time I laid eyes on her.
Pathetic? Maybe.
But obsession doesn't follow logic.
---
8:02 a.m.
I was in the office early again. She was already there.
She looked tired, like she hadn't slept either. But there was a fire behind her eyes that told me she'd decided something.
And I didn't like not knowing what.
"You didn't take a break yesterday," I said. "That wasn't a test."
She straightened. "I wasn't being tested."
"No. You were tempting me."
She froze.
Then, slowly, her lips parted. Not in shock.
In understanding.
"I didn't mean to," she said softly.
"You don't have to mean it. You just are."
I stepped close. Close enough to smell her shampoo—coconut, something soft and cruelly sweet.
Her breath hitched.
"Tell me to stop," I murmured, my hand ghosting the curve of her waist.
She didn't.
Not when my fingers brushed the hem of her blouse. Not when I leaned in, just enough that my lips hovered near her ear.
"You have no idea what you're playing with, Aria."
She turned her head. Barely an inch between our mouths.
"Then teach me."
My restraint shattered.
---
The first kiss wasn't soft.
It was possession.
My mouth crashed into hers like I'd been starving. She gasped—I swallowed it. My hand tangled in her hair. Her body arched toward mine, uncertain but willing.
She was warm. New. Untouched.
And mine.
My fingers found her waist and lifted her onto my desk without breaking the kiss. Papers scattered. My laptop slid.
She didn't care. Neither did I.
Her hands were trembling against my chest as she touched me. Exploring. Innocent and bold at once.
I pulled back only long enough to look into her eyes.
"Have you ever done this before?"
She shook her head.
I swore under my breath.
"You don't have to do this."
"I want to."
That was all I needed.
But just as I reached for her blouse—my phone rang.
Loud. Sharp. Intrusive.
I cursed and backed away, breath heaving, jaw tight. She looked dazed, lips bruised, chest rising and falling like she'd been running.
I wanted her.
Right there. Right then.
But not like this.
Not when her first time could be rushed, interrupted, reduced to a stolen moment between meetings.
Not when she deserved more.
I picked up the phone. Barked orders. Hung up.
Then turned to her.
"I want you."
Her eyes widened.
"But not like this," I said. "Not while we're pretending this is still professional. Not when I can't do it properly."
Her voice was shaky. "Properly?"
I stepped in again, brushing my fingers against her thigh. "Candles. Wine. Silk sheets. Me undressing you one piece at a time… until there's nothing left but your moans in my mouth."
Her breath hitched again.
"I want you to remember your first time for the rest of your life," I whispered. "Because you gave it to a man who didn't just take it... he earned it."
And then, I stepped back.
Because if I didn't… I wouldn't stop.
And I wanted her too much to ruin her.