Savannah's POV
"Hi there! I'm Savannah, and I-"
My words died in my throat as his lips claimed mine without warning. The force of his kiss made me feel as though I might disappear entirely into him.
His tongue found mine, circling and pressing while my introduction remained trapped behind my teeth. Before I could even secure the hotel room door properly, his hands began their exploration across the fabric of my dress.
The bright afternoon light streaming through the window and the slightly ajar door exposing us to the corridor made me acutely conscious of what was happening. A tremor ran through me as his grip on my waist grew firmer and his kiss became more demanding.
Moisture gathered at the corners of our joined mouths as the kiss threatened to devour us both completely.
So this is what real desire feels like?
While this masked stranger pressed closer against me, my thoughts drifted inevitably to Jonathan.
The fire spreading through my chest felt completely foreign, reminding me painfully that my husband and I had never experienced even one truly passionate kiss throughout our entire marriage.
Memories of Jonathan's indifference made this stranger's hands - touching, exploring, and claiming my body without permission - feel both more thrilling and more shameful than they had any right to.
Adultery. You're committing adultery, Savannah!
Though my conscience spoke in Jonathan's disapproving tone, my body craved more of this forbidden touch.
Jonathan had forfeited any right to judge me, and he certainly wouldn't care enough to accuse me of disloyalty.
My wolf nature simply compelled me toward faithfulness to my destined mate.
Even after he accepted another omega's mark.
Even when only a wedding band connected us anymore.
The war between logic and lust raged within me as the stranger grew increasingly bold.
His masked face remained a mystery to me. Belle had warned me that the agency's men used this method to protect their identities, and I wasn't supposed to request speech or mask removal from him.
The anonymity, the kiss, the wandering hands - everything made me feel as though I'd purchased a living doll rather than hired a companion.
Perhaps that realization caused me to shove him away the instant he released my lips to draw breath.
Or maybe it was watching his fingers begin to tug down the left strap of my dress.
This isn't what I need. Regardless of how incredible it feels.
"Stop."
The quiet stretched between us as that single word seemed to startle us both.
It was all I could manage while trying to calm my racing pulse. My voice bounced off the walls - breathless, embarrassingly aroused, and weak.
This was terrible.
I had just fled from a man who dictated every detail of my existence - including how my body should respond to his advances.
I refused to allow another man that same power over me.
I hold the control now, and this man will follow my commands.
I adjusted my strap upward, fighting to reclaim what remained of my self-possession. The stranger's intense gaze tracked my every movement as I worked to find my footing again.
Entertained.
That described his expression perfectly.
Lord, do all men wear that same patronizing smile when they believe they have the advantage?
He folded his arms and settled back against the wall casually.
Now I could study him properly.
The stranger stood roughly six feet in height, wearing an Armani suit that clung perhaps too snugly to his impressive shoulders. His hair fell slightly longer than conventional style would dictate, with dark curls tucking behind his ears carelessly.
I avoided looking below his chest, terrified I might discover no evidence of his physical interest in me.
That he was simply fulfilling his professional obligations without experiencing any genuine desire for me.
Naturally, I harbored no illusions about him developing real feelings for me, but I couldn't bear the possibility of another man going through the motions without even basic physical attraction toward me.
He maintained that arrogant smile while nodding toward the mirror at my back.
Check your reflection.
Though he remained silent, I understood his meaning instinctively.
Curiosity made me turn around, only to confront an image of myself I'd never witnessed before.
My lipstick had smeared across my cheek, chin, and nose, creating an almost ridiculous picture - except for how my hair hung tangled around my face, my dress appeared wrinkled and bunched around my chest and hips, and my mouth hung slightly open as I struggled to regulate my breathing.
Dear God.
Was that truly me?
Had I ever appeared like this before?
The stranger's deep, rumbling laughter brought me crashing back to reality.
Here I was, being observed by a man while I stared at myself in the mirror. I must have seemed incredibly self-absorbed.
It didn't matter anyway. I could simply hire someone different tomorrow.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and cleared my throat more loudly than intended. It was my pitiful attempt to steady my voice before speaking.
"I don't need - that. What you just did. It felt inappropriate."
In the mirror's reflection, the stranger's smirk grew even more pronounced. Strangely, I found that cocky expression exciting.
As though, despite his superiority complex, he remained subject to my desires. The client always gets their way, after all.
It might have been his smile or his appearance that awakened the pathetic longing buried within me.
I bit my still-tingling lip briefly before voicing my request. What did it matter if I seemed desperate?
This man would never see me again after today. I had endured five years of neglect and had less than a week left to live.
Humiliating or not, I deserved to experience my husband's love before death. Even if it required pretending.
"Jonathan. That's what I'll call you today."
Finally, the stranger appeared genuinely surprised.
His smile vanished, replaced by an expression I couldn't interpret.
A surge of satisfaction filled me, making me hungry for more control.
My voice emerged strong and clear as my demand hung in the air between us. The atmosphere grew almost suffocating as tension filled the space.
"Get on your knees for me, Jonathan."