The injustice of it all, the cold dismissal of their children, ignited a fire in Amara's chest. She turned on her heel, intent on storming out, on salvating the last shreds of her dignity.
She never made it to the door.
Lucas's hand closed around her wrist, a band of steel, and he dragged her back against him. Her protest was a sharp gasp, swallowed whole as his mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn't a kiss of tenderness, but one of conquest and desperate, furious need. A low, involuntary moan escaped her throat,
mingling with his own guttural sound.
He walked her backward until the cool, polished wood of his desk met her back.
His lips trailed from her mouth, blazing a hot, wet path down her neck to the swell of her breast. His mouth was ruthless there, too, sucking through the fabric of her shirt until she cried out. At the same time, his hand slipped into her jeans, his fingers finding her slick and ready, a traitorous truth her body revealed despite her rage.
"Lucas please... easy," she gasped, her head falling back against the wall.
"You'll... bruise me."
His eyes, when they met hers, burned with a feral light. The civilized billionaire was gone, stripped away to reveal something raw and hungry.
"I don't want to be easy," he growled, his voice a rough whisper against her skin. "I want to fuck you until you can't walk. I want to fuck you so hard you forget your own name, Amara. So you forget everything but me."
The raw, vulgar truth in his words was a spark on gasoline. Her resistance, her righteous anger, melted into a pool of liquid need. He yanked her jeans down, and she helped him, a frantic, shared mission. He entered her in one deep, claiming all of her ..
His thrusts were not gentle; they were a declaration. Deep, hard, piston-like strokes that stole the air from her lungs and any coherent thought from her mind.
Faster. Harder. Each one a deliberate assault on her senses, a carnal promise and a punishment rolled into one.
Amara's Struggle in the Gilde...
For a fleeting, shameful second, the world and its consequences melted away. The weight of her pregnancy, his cold rejection in the study, the looming shadow of Cole and Elna-it all dissolved in the furnace of his touch. Here, pinned beneath him, being devoured with a fervor that felt like worship and damnation, she was just a woman, and he was a man starved for the taste of her.
The irony was a sharp, sweet agony. This man, who had so clinically suggested she erase the life growing within her, was now moving inside her with a frantic, almost violent need , as It he could
somehow reclaim a part of them both that was already lost. He feasted on her mouth, her neck, the swell of her lips , breast ..
Slowly the night faded as he gasped a loud moan .
He didn't let her go. They slept curled together, the warmth of their bare skin a fragile comfort against the looming uncertainty.
****************
The morning sun slipped quietly through the curtains, drawing soft golden lines across Lucas's bare chest. He was still asleep, his breathing calm, his arm stretched across the empty space where Amara had lain the night before. The memory of their closeness still lingered in the air the warmth, the heartbeat, the way she had melted into him as though time itself had paused.
But morning light always brings a new kind of reality. Amara sat up slowly, pressing her palm against her forehead. Her heart was still racing, not from excitement anymore, but from a strange mix of guilt and confusion. She looked at Lucas peaceful, almost innocent in his sleep and felt a wave of emotion she couldn't name. Quietly, she slipped out of bed, clutching the bedsheet around her as she reached for her scattered clothes.
The room was silent except for the faint hum of the morning breeze sneaking in through the window. She dressed quickly, fixing her skirt and tucking in her blouse with trembling hands. Her hair was messy, strands falling over her face, and she caught her reflection in the mirror eyes still heavy with last night's secrets. She took a deep breath, tied her hair neatly into a bun, and forced herself to smile, though her heart still thudded in confusion.
As she stepped out of Lucas's room, she could still smell him the faint scent of soap and cologne mixed with warmth. It almost made her turn back. But she couldn't. She needed space to think. To breathe.
By the time she reached her room, she already felt the rush of morning routine catching up. She changed into her work clothes, applying a light touch of powder and lip balm. Despite her inner turmoil, she looked stunning. The bun gave her face a graceful shape, her soft brown skin glowed in the morning light, and her eyes though a little tired still sparkled. She looked like a woman holding a thousand secrets behind a calm smile.
At work, she tried to bury herself in tasks. The hum of the washing machines filled the air, and the faint scent of detergent clung to her fingers. Every sound seemed louder than usual the clicking of hangers, the shuffle of customers, the sharp hiss of the steam iron. Anything to distract her from the thought of Lucas's touch, from the memory of his whisper against her ear.
She avoided looking at her phone, afraid he might have called or texted. How was she supposed to face him now? How could she stand in front of him after what had happened? Every time she thought about it, her stomach fluttered nervously.
Just when she started to feel a bit settled, the door swung open, and a familiar figure stepped inside Nick.
Nick was tall, confident, and annoyingly persistent. He had been a regular customer for months, always throwing playful comments and lingering gazes her way. He never hid what he wanted he had once offered her money to spend a night with him, something she had refused sharply. But now, as he stood there with that same sly smile, she felt her patience waver.
"Morning, Amara," he greeted, his voice thick with that teasing tone she despised. "You look… different today. Glowing, even."
Her heart skipped. Did he somehow know? She turned away quickly, pretending to fold some clothes. "Good morning, Nick. How can I help you?"
He leaned against the counter, his eyes scanning her like he could read her thoughts. "Just dropping off a few shirts. But I must say you're looking more beautiful every time I see you."
Amara forced a polite smile, refusing to meet his gaze. "Thank you. You can pick them up tomorrow."
Nick chuckled softly. "You sure you don't want to have dinner with me? I promise, I don't bite."
She turned sharply then, her tone firm. "Nick, please. I've told you before I'm not interested."
He raised his hands in mock surrender, still smiling. "Alright, alright. But I'll keep trying."
As he left, she let out a long sigh of relief. The day had only just begun, yet her mind was already tangled in emotions Lucas, Nick, work, and the weight of everything in between.
She pressed her hand against her chest and whispered to herself, "Just breathe, Amara. One step at a time."
Outside, the sun had risen higher, spreading its warmth through the streets. But inside her, the morning felt heavy with secrets she wasn't ready to share, and feelings she couldn't yet understand.