Whatever happened next, at least I'd have this one perfect night to remember.
Chapter Two
ARIA
I blamed the tequila for what came out of my mouth in the elevator.
"I want you to ruin me."
The words hung in the air between us, and some distant part of my brain—the part that was still Aria Romano, perfect daughter—screamed that good girls didn't say things like that. But that girl had died somewhere between the club and this elevator, and the one pressed against the wall with Kai's hand sliding up her thigh? She didn't give a damn about being good.
Kai went very still. His fingers tightened on my leg, and when he looked at me, his eyes were so dark they were almost black.
"The alcohol—" I started, but he cut me off.
His mouth came down on mine, hard and demanding, swallowing whatever excuse I'd been about to make. This wasn't like the kiss outside. That had been testing, careful. This was raw hunger. His tongue swept past my lips and I opened for him, my back arching off the elevator wall as his hand moved higher, fingers brushing against lace.
The elevator dinged but I barely heard it. His thumb pressedagainst me through the thin fabric and pleasure shot through me so sharp I gasped into his mouth.
"Kai—"
He pulled back, breathing hard, and grabbed my hand. "Move."
We stumbled down the hallway. My legs weren't working properly, still shaking from that brief touch. He fumbled with the key card, cursed when it didn't work the first time, finally got the door open.
We barely made it inside before his hands were in my hair, tilting my head back, his mouth hot against my neck. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, trying to pull him closer even though there was no space left between us.
My back hit the wall. His hips pressed against mine and I could feel how hard he was, could feel exactly how much he wanted this. The evidence of his desire made something hot and desperate unfurl in my stomach.
His hands found the zipper of my dress. The sound of it lowering seemed impossibly loud. Cool air kissed my skin as the fabric loosened, then his hands were sliding the straps down my shoulders, peeling the dress away until it pooled at my feet.
I stood there in black lace and nothing else, my chest heaving, my skin flushed everywhere his eyes touched.
He stepped back, just looking at me. His hands clenched into fists at his sides like he was physically restraining himself.
"Perfect." His voice was wrecked. "You're so fucking perfect."
Before I could respond, he closed the distance between us. His hands spanned my waist, lifting me, and I wrapped my legs around him on instinct. He carried me to the bed, laying me down on silk sheets that felt cool against my overheated skin.
His body covered mine, solid and heavy and exactly what I needed. His mouth found mine again while his hands explored—sliding up my ribs, cupping my breasts through lace, thumb brushing across my nipple until I arched into his touch.
I'd never been touched like this. Never felt this overwhelming need to get closer, to have more, to feel everything all at once. My handsfumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally giving up and just pulling until they popped free.
His skin was hot under my palms. Smooth muscle and hard lines and scattered scars I wanted to trace with my tongue. He shrugged out of the shirt, tossing it aside, and the sight of him made my mouth go dry.
His hand slid behind my back, finding the clasp of my bra. The lace fell away and suddenly I was bare from the waist up, my breasts exposed to his gaze.
I should have felt self-conscious. Should have wanted to cover myself. Instead, all I felt was impatient.
His head dipped, mouth finding my breast, and white-hot pleasure shot through me. His tongue circled my nipple before his teeth grazed it, just enough to sting, and I made a sound I'd never made before—high and desperate and completely beyond my control.
"That's it." His voice was pure gravel against my skin. "Let me hear you."
His hand slid down my stomach, fingers hooking into the lace at my hips. He looked up at me, asking permission without words.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
He pulled the lace down my legs slowly, torturously, his eyes never leaving mine. Then I was completely naked, spread out on expensive sheets while he looked at me like I was something precious and profane all at once.
