⚠️ Warning: Sexual Tension Ahead
This chapter contains explicit sexual content and intense romantic/physical encounters. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
Jason's apartment door rattled with a sharp knock.
He frowned, annoyed at first—then wary. Visitors at this hour were never good.
"Who is it?" he called, voice guarded.
Silence.
Then the door cracked open, revealing a bulky man whose presence felt like a warning.
"Somebody wants to speak to you," he said flatly, tilting his head toward a sleek black car idling by the curb.
Jason's brows drew together. "And who might that be?"
The man didn't answer—just stepped aside so Jason could see inside.
A woman sat in the backseat, posture poised, a dark veil masking everything but the curve of her chin and the stillness of her body.
Something about her presence made the hairs on Jason's neck rise—like he was standing in front of a queen who'd once been a villain in another life.
He approached cautiously.
"I know who you are," she said before he opened his mouth. Her voice was like silk stretched over a blade. "I know your loyalty. Your sacrifices. And I know what it feels like… when the person you love gives their heart to someone else."
Jason stiffened.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
Her words hit deeper than he expected—because they were true.
"What do you want?" he asked, more defensive than curious.
She opened a suitcase. Stacks of cash gleamed under the streetlights—organized, obscene wealth.
"This," she said simply, sliding the case a fraction closer. "Enough to rewrite your life. Enough to take back what should have been yours."
Jason swallowed hard.
His fists clenched at his sides.
She doesn't know Auri, he told himself.
She doesn't know what I've done… what I've given… what I've lost.
And yet part of him asked:
Why does it feel like she sees everything?
She leaned forward slightly.
"I can give you the chance you think you never had. The chance to win her back. But you'll do exactly as I instruct."
Jason's breath wavered.
Temptation pressed down like a hand around his throat.
"What do you get out of it?" he asked quietly.
She smiled beneath the veil, voice soft but venomous.
"Balance."
He didn't know what that meant.
But the way she said it chilled him.
"Are you willing?" she asked.
For a second, he saw Auri's face—the way she used to smile at him like he was enough… before Kieran walked in and rewrote her whole world.
"I don't need your money," he said, but even he could hear the crack in his own voice.
The woman tilted her head. "Then why are your hands shaking?"
They were. Damn it.
Because part of him DID want this.
Part of him wanted every chance he never got.
Part of him wanted to be the man Auri chose.
Not the one she ran from.
.....
Kieran's private training room smelled like gunpowder and cold metal. The walls were soundproof, the lights dim, and on the far end of the room, glass bottles were lined up on a rusted silver stand like sacrificial lambs.
My stomach twisted. I'd never even touched a real g*n before tonight. "Kieran, I can't—"
"You can."
He stepped behind me, his hands sliding over mine, adjusting my grip like it was nothing. My heartbeat was louder than the room's silence. His chest pressed lightly against my back, his breath brushing my neck.
"Feet apart," he murmured. "Aim for the neck of the bottle. Don't hesitate."
Easy for him to say.
He lifted my arms with his, guiding them. My fingers trembled so badly I thought I'd drop the gun.
"Relax," he said, voice deep, steady… dangerous. "I'm right here."
With his hands covering mine, I fired.
The bottle shattered instantly.
My ears rang. I jumped. Kieran smirked.
"See?" he said, stepping back. "Again. This time alone."
I swallowed hard and nodded.
I raised the gun—shakily this time—and suddenly, something inside me snapped.
rebellion.
Instead of aiming at the bottles…
I turned the gun directly at him.
Kieran froze.
Not scared.
Not even surprised.
Just… amused.
"How brave of you," I whispered, keeping my hands steady, my voice sharp. "To give your wife a gun and teach her how to shoot. Aren't you afraid I might kill you?"
His lips curved, slow and sinful.
"No."
He took a step toward me.
I stepped back.
He stepped again.
"Kieran—stop," I warned, tightening my grip. "I swear, if you move any closer—"
"Then shoot," he said softly. "I'm waiting."
My breath hitched. My finger hovered over the trigger.
But I couldn't.
And he knew.
He kept walking until my back hit the wall with a soft thud. His eyes held mine—dark, unreadable—before he reached out, snatched the gun effortlessly, and tucked it into his pocket like it was nothing.
Then he spun me around.
My back slammed into his chest, his arm locking around my waist, dragging me flush against him. I gasped.
"You point a gun at me," he murmured into my ear, his breath hot and steady, "but you can't pull the trigger. Do you know what that means, Aurielle?"
His grip tightened.
"Do you know what that says about you?"
His voice dropped lower… darker…
I felt it—
the hard length of him… poking against me, deliberate, unashamed.
Oh God.
A sharp inhale from him brushed my ear, and then his lips found the side of my neck, warm and slow. My whole body trembled.
"Kieran…" I whispered, not even sure if I was begging him to stop or to continue.
He didn't give me a chance to think. He spun me around, our chests colliding, breath mixing—his exhale warm, mine shaky. Our lips hovered, so close they almost touched.
I don't know who moved first.
Maybe it was me.
Maybe it was the part of me that had spent four years pretending I didn't crave him.
I kissed him.
And he kissed me back like he'd been starving.
He pushed me to the wall, his mouth claiming mine, deep and hungry. My fingers slid down without thinking—finding the buckle of his trousers. The metal clinked, and when I freed him, his dick sprang out, thick, long, and—God help me—dangerous.
I froze, breath catching.
How does something that big even fit anywhere?
My brain was already conjuring sinful images—my mouth, his body thrusting, my hands gripping—
Our kiss broke suddenly.
Before I could breathe, I heard a tearing sound.
My eyes widened.
My shirt—my damn shirt—was ripped open in his hands.
My breast fell free and the cold air barely had time to touch them before his mouth did. He latched onto one n…pple, sucking hard, making me gasp as my head fell back. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, begging without words.
His other hand squeezed my other br…ast, palm rough, grip firm, making goosebumps rise down my spine.
Then he switched—his lips closing around the other nipple, tongue circling slowly before sucking harder, until he pulled off with a soft pop that made my knees shake.
I barely had time to breathe before he shrugged off his shirt.
My mouth fell open.
Tattoos—dark, fierce—covered his chest, snaked up his arm, wrapped around his back. Every line, every mark made him look even more sinful. And those eyes… those dark blue eyes were drowning in desire.
He stripped my pants off in one swift pull.
Then he flipped me around.
His palm landed on my ass with a sharp smack.
I gasped and—God help me—I arched back into him, wiggling like a woman who had lost all her sanity.
"Please… d….ddy," I breathed, the word falling out before I could stop it.
And that was the moment he snapped.
He grabbed my hips, bent me forward, my hands pressed to the wall as my a$$ lifted toward him. The heat of his tip brushed my entrance—
Then he pushed in.
I cried out, a mix of shock and pleasure as he filled me, stretching me, claiming me from behind. My breasts bounced forward with each thrust, slapping softly against my chest.
His hand came up, gripping one breast from behind, weighing it in his palm.
"Perfect," he groaned in my ear.
Our sounds filled the room—my breathless moans, his low groans, and the wet, sloppy rhythm of my body taking his.
And all I could think was—
I will never survive this man.