The sheets still smelled like him, expensive cologne and sin.
When I opened my eyes, light was spilling into the penthouse through those endless glass windows, Manhattan gleaming like a crown of fire in the morning sun. But my body was too heavy, too sore, too branded to care.
Every inch of me ached. Between my thighs, I felt him still, hours later. My lips were swollen. My skin bore the marks of his mouth, 'hickeys' his hands, his claim.
I was ruined.
And God help me, I wanted more.
The memory of last night hit in flashes. His mouth on my throat. His voice in my ear. The way he had pinned me down, forced me to say the words I swore I'd never give a man: Yes, I'm yours.
I sat up too quickly, clutching the sheet to my chest as if it could erase what I had done. What I had let him do.
I wasn't that kind of woman. I wasn't reckless. I wasn't supposed to be one of Liam Knight's lovers paraded, used, and discarded.
But then I felt the soreness, the way my body throbbed with every movement, and heat flushed my cheeks. I had begged for him. I had screamed his name. I had given in so completely that even now, I wasn't sure where his touch ended and I began.
"Running already?"
His voice slid through the room, smooth and deep, and I froze.
Liam stood in the doorway to the bedroom, a glass of whiskey in his hand, at six in the morning. His shirt was undone, chest bare, hair mussed from sleep and sin. He looked like temptation made flesh, and he knew it.
"I... I wasn't" I stammered, clutching the sheet tighter.
He smirked. "You were."
I glared at him, forcing steel into my spine. "I need to get ready for work."
"You're already at work," he reminded me, sauntering closer. His eyes swept over me, dark and possessive. "In my bed, in my penthouse, with my name still on your lips."
"Don't," I whispered, though my pulse quickened.
He stopped at the edge of the bed, leaning down until his mouth hovered just above mine. "Don't what? Don't remind you of what you begged for? Or don't make you beg again?"
My breath hitched, and he smiled like a man who already knew the answer.
"Liam…" I tried to push him back, but his hand caught my wrist, pulling me onto my knees. The sheet slipped, baring my skin, and his eyes darkened with hunger.
"You belong to me now," he murmured, thumb tracing the curve of my jaw. "Last night wasn't an accident, Alicia. It was the real beginning."
"I'm not..."
"You are," he cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your body knows it. Your moans proved it. And now…" His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head back. "Now you'll learn what it means to be mine outside this bed too."
I shivered, torn between fury and desire. He wasn't just claiming me in the dark, he wanted to tether me in the light. To pull me into his world where there was no escape.
"I work for you," I reminded him sharply. "This is wrong."
His lips brushed mine, soft and lethal. "It's only wrong if you walk away. And you won't."
He kissed me then, slow and devastating, a kiss that burned deeper than the night before because it wasn't about lust, it was about power. His tongue stroked mine, his hand tightened in my hair, and I melted against him despite every voice in my head screaming no.
When he pulled back, his eyes were dark, certain. "Be downstairs at eight sharp. A new project. You'll shadow me directly."
"Shadow you?" I echoed, dazed.
He smirked. "Consider it… a test. And a reminder that you can't hide from me, Alicia. Not in my company. Not in my bed. Not anywhere."
And just like that, he left me trembling, half-naked in his sheets, with the city blazing outside and the truth burning inside me.
I wasn't just tangled in Liam Knight's world.
I was chained to it.
Liam's Pov
She stood in my doorway like temptation personified.
Midnight silk on her skin, that skirt teasing me with every inch it didn't cover. She was breathing fast, trying to look composed, but I could read the truth in her eyes. Want. Fear. Curiosity.
Exactly the cocktail I craved.
"Good girl," I murmured, and I watched her body betray her shoulders tightening, thighs clenching, lips parting as if the phrase itself was a caress.
I didn't touch her. Not yet. Anticipation was my favorite weapon.
"Take off your coat," I said, my voice even, unhurried.
She hesitated, then slipped it from her shoulders, folding it neatly as if clinging to some scrap of professionalism. The gesture amused me. Did she really think neat folds could protect her from me?
I circled her once, slow, deliberate. She kept her chin lifted, but her pulse fluttered at her throat. That pulse would look beautiful under my mouth.
"You wore it," I said, brushing my fingers lightly over the silk blouse. She shivered at the contact. "Good."
"Why… why me?" she asked softly.
Ah. The question every woman asked eventually.
I stepped closer until my lips nearly grazed her ear. "Because you make mistakes worth punishing. And because you look like you'll break… but you don't."
Her breath hitched.
"Tell me, Alicia," I murmured, "do you want to leave?"
Silence stretched. Her fists curled at her sides, her body trembling between retreat and surrender. Finally, she whispered:
"No."
Satisfaction burned through me. I tilted her chin up, forcing her eyes to mine. God, those eyes. Too honest. Too dangerous. They made me want things I shouldn't.
"You're in my world now," I warned. "Every rule is mine. Every touch is mine. Every lie will cost you. Understand?"
"Yes," she breathed.
I kissed her then. Hard. Claiming. Her lips yielded instantly, fire sparking as her hands fisted in my shirt. The taste of her made restraint nearly impossible. I pressed her back against the wall, my body caging hers, devouring the soft whimpers spilling from her throat.
But I pulled back just before she could drown in it. Her eyes were glazed, lips swollen, begging without words.
"Patience," I said, stroking her jaw. "I decide when."
She looked wrecked already, and I hadn't even begun.
I poured us wine, watching her fidget on the edge of the sofa. The skirt rode high on her thighs, but she didn't tug it down. She was learning already bending to the unspoken rules between us.
When I handed her the glass, our fingers brushed. Her blush bloomed instantly. I couldn't resist. I ran my thumb across her lower lip, smearing the faint trace of gloss.
"You drive me insane," she whispered before she could stop herself.
My chest tightened. Dangerous words. Too close to the truth. I masked it with a smirk. "Then let me drive you further."
I took the glass from her hand and set it aside. Then I pulled her onto my lap.
She gasped, but she didn't resist. Her body molded to mine as if it belonged there. My hands roamed…..silk, skin, heat. She clung to me, trembling, kissing me with desperation that threatened to unravel all my control.
When my mouth trailed down her neck, her head fell back, exposing herself fully, trusting me with that vulnerable line. It stirred something primal in me.
I could ruin her.
Or I could protect her.
Both desires warred inside me, and I hated that she made me hesitate.
Her whisper broke the war. "Liam… please."
Hearing my name on her lips like that plea, prayer, surrender, snapped something in me.
I lifted her, carried her to the bedroom, and laid her on my sheets. She looked up at me, wide-eyed, half-afraid, half-burning. My sheets had seen countless women, but none had looked like this. None had made me feel like the bed itself might never be the same.
I hovered over her, pressing a hand to her sternum, keeping her pinned. Her chest rose and fell under my palm.
"Last chance, Alicia," I said, my voice low, almost a growl. "If I touch you again, there's no going back."
Her answer came without hesitation. "Don't stop."
God help me, I didn't.
The night blurred into heat, whispered commands, gasps muffled against my mouth. She was stubborn, defiant even in her surrender, and I loved breaking that resistance piece by piece. Every time she tried to hide a sound, I dragged it out of her. Every time she thought she could resist, I reminded her she couldn't.
But somewhere between the fire and the frenzy, something shifted.
Her fingers traced my jaw like she was memorizing me, not just taking pleasure. Her eyes locked on mine in the middle of chaos, unflinching, searching.
It made me feel… seen.
And that terrified me more than any weakness ever had.
So I kissed her harder, trying to drown it. To turn her into another night, another body, another story I wouldn't remember tomorrow.
But I knew before dawn even threatened, that forgetting Alicia Blake would be impossible.
When she finally collapsed against me, boneless and spent, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Her breath was warm against my chest, steady, trusting. Too trusting.
I shouldn't have let her stay. I shouldn't have let her in.
But as my arm tightened around her unconsciously, one truth settled like a curse in my veins:
Alicia Blake was no longer just another game.
She was my weakness.
And in my world, weaknesses get destroyed.
God help me. Am in love with her already. But i won't let her know.