She shivers, her entire body vibrating with a need she probably doesn't even understand. How is it possible for something as beautiful as her to be so fucking innocent?
"Let me take care of you, Wren," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, working my way toward her mouth with agonizing restraint. "Let me give you everything you've been denied. A home. Security. Pleasure." My lips hover over hers, not quite touching. "All you have to do is say yes.”
Lightning flashes again, illuminating the naked want in her eyes, the parted lips, the flush spreading across her cheeks. She's on the edge of giving me everything I want. Everything I need.
"Say yes, little bird," I breathe against her mouth. "Say yes to me."
And as the storm rages on outside, I wait for the word that will seal her fate.
five
. . .
Calvin
“Yes.”
Her "yes" hangs between us, fragile and monumental all at once. I've acquired billion-dollar companies with less satisfaction than I feel hearing that single syllable fall from her lips. My fingers dig into her hips, hard enough to mark but not enough to bruise. Not yet. I need to pace myself with her. Take it slow, even while every cell in my body screams to consume her whole. The storm continues its assault outside, but in here, in this moment, there's a different kind of electricity crackling between us.
"Thank you for trusting me," I murmur, allowing myself the small pleasure of stroking her hair. So fucking soft. Everything about her is soft. It makes me want to be rough, to see if I can make her break.
Wren shifts on my lap, and I have to grit my teeth against the friction. My cock is a steel rod beneath her, and there's no way she doesn't feel it. Her cheeks flush pink, confirming my suspicion.
"I should probably..." She gestures vaguely, making to move off me.
I tighten my grip reflexively. "Stay."
The command comes out harsher than intended. I ease my hold, letting my hand slide up her arm instead, fingers trailing lightly over her skin. Goosebumps rise in my wake.
"Just a little longer," I add, softening my tone. I've spent decades perfecting the art of getting what I want. With acquisition targets, it's all about applying the right pressure at the right time. With Wren, it's about making her think she has a choice while ensuring she makes the one I want.
She settles back against me, her body a delicious weight. I let my fingers continue their journey up her arm, across her collarbone, to the delicate hollow of her throat. Her pulse hammers wildly beneath my touch.
"So responsive," I murmur, more to myself than to her.
The air thickens between us, heavy with possibility. I could take her right now. Lay her out on this couch, tear off those borrowed clothes, and bury myself inside her. She wouldn't stop me—might even beg for it. But that's not the game I'm playing. Not yet.
This obsession is different. Dangerous. I've wanted women before, fucked them, forgotten them. They were nothing to me. Just a means to an end. But Wren? I want to consume her. Absorb her. Make her so completely mine that she forgets she was ever separate from me.
It's fucking terrifying.
My hand slides back down her arm, fingers circling her wrist. Her pulse jumps beneath my touch, rabbit-quick. I could snap the delicate bones with minimal effort. Instead, I bring her wrist to my mouth, press my lips to the blue veins visible beneath her pale skin.
"Calvin," she whispers, and the sound of my name on her lips sends a fresh surge of hunger through me.
I need to stop this now, or I won't stop at all.
With effort that physically pains me, I lift her off my lap and set her beside me on the couch. The loss of contact is immediate and jarring. I stand, putting necessary distance between us.
"It's late," I say, my voice rougher than I'd like. "You should get some rest."
Confusion flickers across her face, followed by something that might be disappointment. Good. Let her want. Let her wonder.
"I'll show you to the guest room."
I lead her down a hallway, hyperaware of her following behind me. My apartment is large, the guest room deliberately positioned far from the master suite. Tonight, that distance feels like both punishment and necessity.
I push open the door to a room I've never used. It's pristine, impersonal. Nothing like what I have planned for her permanent accommodations.
