"Hello, Kitty Cat..."
Aiden's voice is a slow drawl, smooth yet eerily devoid of emotion. My body tenses, breath hitching as I stand frozen. I shouldn't feel this way. I shouldn't want to throw myself into his arms. But I do.
A smile tugs at my lips—unbidden, unwanted.
"Aiden..." I whisper, his name feeling both like a plea and a curse.
For the longest moment, we just stand there, locked in a silent war of stares. Then, inexplicably, my eyes burn, and before I can stop it, hot tears spill over my cheeks. I don't wipe them away. I don't even know why they're there. Relief? Anger? Heartbreak? I don't care anymore.
Aiden moves. In a blink, his arms are around me, crushing me against him, his warmth enveloping me like a snare. He smells like aftershave, musk, and something inherently him—a scent I'd recognize anywhere. A scent that should repulse me for how much comfort it gives me.
I collapse into him, sobs shaking my frame as I clutch at his back. He says nothing, doesn't ask why I'm crying. Maybe he doesn't care. Maybe he knows exactly why. His fingers press into my spine, grounding me, claiming me.
"Kitty..." he murmurs against my hair before pressing a firm kiss to my forehead.
I tilt my head up, and in his eyes, I catch something raw—pain, regret. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, replaced by something colder. Aiden lifts my chin, erasing the last breath of space between us, and then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is not gentle.
It's fire and fury, teeth and desperation. His tongue parts my lips with ease, taking what he wants, branding me from the inside out. A whimper escapes me, and he swallows it whole. He nips, licks, devours—every stroke, every flick of his tongue an assertion of dominance. He's not kissing me. He's consuming me.
Heat pools low in my belly, molten and restless. I arch closer, pressing against the solid expanse of his chest, bare skin meeting fabric. I should care that I'm naked, but I don't. If anything, the way his hands grip my waist, the way his fingers dig into my flesh, only fuels the fire. He palms my ass roughly, dragging me flush against him, and a low, guttural groan rumbles in his chest.
His fingers skim up my back before one hand moves to my breast, teasing, pinching, owning. I gasp into his mouth, but he doesn't let up, swallowing every sound I make as if it belongs to him. And maybe it does. Maybe I do.
"Aiden..." I moan, barely coherent, lost in the relentless heat of his touch.
He answers with a growl, pressing me harder against him, his breath ragged against my lips. Then my phone rings.
Benson.
The sound shatters whatever haze I'd been drowning in, cold reality slamming into me like a tidal wave. My body goes rigid. Panic, guilt, something sharp and unwanted claws its way through my chest. I shove Aiden away, staggering back, arms wrapping around myself as if I could somehow shield my body from what just happened.
Aiden doesn't move. He watches me with an expression so unreadable, so eerily calm, that it sends a shiver crawling down my spine. His jaw ticks. His fists clench. But his voice remains steady.
"Answer it," he says flatly.
I don't. I can't.
I quickly grab some shorts and a tank top from my closet and put them on.
My phone stops ringing, and an eerie silence settles between us, stretching thick and suffocating. Outside, crows caw in the distance, the night pressing in despite the dull glow of the room's light. It feels darker somehow. Heavier.
Then Aiden moves.
One second, he's across the room. The next, he's behind me, arms snaking around my waist. I stiffen, but his grip is unyielding, his breath hot against my ear.
"Katherina," he growls, voice like gravel, like sin, before his lips find my neck.
I shudder violently, but I don't pull away. I can't. His teeth scrape against my skin, then his tongue soothes the sting. My head tips back on instinct, exposing my throat to him, granting him access I shouldn't give so freely. His hand trails up my stomach, over my ribs, before wrapping around my throat. A possessive squeeze. Not enough to hurt—just enough to remind me who's in control.
His free hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts before yanking them down in one swift motion. My breath catches, my body betraying me, but before he can go any further, he stops. Still. Quiet.
Then, with an almost cruel slowness, he presses his lips to my ear.
"Not yet."
I exhale shakily, lightheaded from the sheer intensity of his presence. His fingers tighten around my throat just as his lips graze my jaw.
"When I take you," he murmurs, voice low, dark, lethal, "you'll be begging for it."
My stomach clenches. My legs threaten to give out. He turns me in his grip until I'm facing him, until I can see the storm raging in his slate-grey eyes. He drags his thumb across my lips, his gaze hooded, unreadable.
"You belong to me, Kitty."
Then, just as swiftly as he appeared, he's gone, leaving me breathless, shaking, and burning for something I should never want.