Chapter 002: Who Dared Touch You?!

"What's on someone else's plate?"

I leaned against the tub like a siren, my gaze raking over Alexander Knight as he tore off his soaked button-down shirt. His cold, pale back muscles rippled with sharp, lethal ridges, water streaming down his spine to disappear under his trouser waistband. Every contour of his body screamed raw, unapologetic power.

"You seemed to savor it just fine a moment ago, sir."

Alexander Knight tossed the waterlogged shirt into the hamper, his sideways glance slicing through me like a blade."One taste was enough to know it's tainted."

My eyes locked on the beaded droplets clinging to his pectorals, my lips curving into a lazy, predatory smirk. Thirty-two, and the man still had a killer body. Total eye candy, hot as hell. I bit my lower lip, a silent whimper catching in my throat. Just the sight of him was enough to make my skin burn.

"Your tongue is quite picky, sir. Judging a plate tainted from one lick, dismissing a woman just by her name."

I pushed off the tub, bare feet slapping the cold tile. The water snaked across the floor, creeping toward his shadow like a lover's caress. Soft, unhurried, and deliberate.

"You said you crave clean things."

My fingers hooked the hem of his half-tucked new shirt, yanking it just enough to expose a sliver of his chiseled V-line, my fingertips brushing the edge of his hip bone. A light, teasing touch that made his jaw clench.

"Then why not check for yourself? See if anyone else has laid a claim to me."

"You said we couldn't stop halfway, yet here you are, chickening out."

My voice dropped to a soft, honeyed purr, thick with intoxication and temptation, deliberately skating the edge of his patience until it frayed.

Alexander Knight's gaze snapped to mine. Misty, glistening, drunk on moonlight and sin. The name he'd heard a hundred times now belonged to a face that promised ruin.

My features were small and delicate, innocent yet smoldering with raw allure. No vulgarity, just pure, unadulterated temptation.

I was a temptation he couldn't outrun.

He didn't believe in love at first sight, but the second I crashed into his arms in the elevator, my soft curves pressing against his hard chest, my warm breath fanning his neck, desire exploded like wildfire, burning through his twelve years of ironclad self-discipline.

The moon was irresistible tonight, and he'd almost crossed the unbreakable line he'd set for himself.

Thankfully, Ethan Knight's call had sliced through the haze, yanking him back from the edge before he did something irreversible.

Whether my bold advances were fueled by alcohol or calculation, it had to end.

After all,"my son's girlfriend"was a label that killed every spark of hunger.

Crossing that line would hand his enemies a weapon, and he didn't do careless.

Alexander Knight buttoned his shirt slowly, one agonizing button at a time, his fingers brushing his chest in a way that made my throat go dry.

"Get out now, and I'll let you leave with your dignity intact."

Get out?

I glanced down at myself. My light apricot camisole was soaked translucent, clinging to my breasts and hips like a second skin, water glistening in the hollow of my waist, my nipples pressing against the thin fabric. A faint outline teasing the eye.

Where exactly did he expect me to go looking like this?

Needy, flushed, and thoroughly worked up?

"Sir..."

I stumbled forward, my wet skirt tangling around my ankles, and crashed into his chest. My damp forehead pressed to his heart, my hands fisting his shirt to steady myself. My warm breath seeped through his fabric, making his skin tingle beneath.

"My legs are weak. I can't walk."

My fingers snaked around the sandalwood beads on his wrist and pulled.

The string snapped with a crisp, satisfying crack.

Wooden beads scattered across the floor, bouncing and rolling, the last one slipping down my half-open neckline, grazing my collarbone before coming to rest against my skin.

Alexander Knight's knuckles whitened as he clutched the broken string, his jaw tight enough to crack.

Twelve years of ironclad self-control shattered right along with those sandalwood beads at his feet.

Beads broken, his resolve crumbled.

"Had enough games?"

Alexander Knight lifted me like a misbehaving kitten. One hand under my thighs, the other gripping my waist so hard his fingers dug into my skin.

His touch burned through my thin dress. His palms seared my skin, even through the fabric.

"Looks like you'd rather be thrown out than walk away."

My wet eyelashes fluttered against his chest, the scent of alcohol and orange blossom wrapping around his Adam's apple like a silk scarf.

"Mmm, so sleepy..."

My soft, nasal whimper sent a shiver down his spine, his cock twitching at the sound. Hot, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

He hated the way I made him react. Like a teenager, not a man who had mastered his desires for over a decade.

"Can I sleep a little first? Then I'll leave, I promise."

My warm breath fanned his neck, hot and sweet, like sparks landing on gasoline.

He could feel the soft press of my lips against his throat. Light, tentative, yet enough to make his resolve crumble.

"Let go."

His voice was cold as ice, but his fingers curled slightly, careful not to brush the delicate curve of my neck. As if the slightest touch would break him.

He was already teetering on the edge. One push, and he'd lose everything.

I swayed drunkenly, wet hair sticking to my flushed cheeks as I nuzzled closer, my lips grazing his chest through his shirt.

"Sir, you're more fickle than a summer storm."

"C'mon, be a decent guy. Take in a drunkard, karma points plus one. Ditch me here? That's minus 999 karma points."

My voice faded to a murmur, my breathing growing long and heavy. Fake, he suspected, but too tempting to resist.

He could see the glint of mischief in my half-lidded eyes. I knew exactly what I was doing.

Alexander Knight glanced at his watch. Two in the morning.

I curled up in his arms like a soaking wet stray, my body soft and warm against his.

Every inch of me a temptation he couldn't shake.

A vein throbbed at his temple.

Finally, he gave in, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bed.

He told himself it was mercy, a weak attempt to cling to the last shred of his self-control.

But deep down, he knew it was surrender.

I let out a soft, satisfied hum as I sank into the plush mattress, my skirt riding up to reveal creamy thighs that made his mouth water.

He tore his gaze away, jaw tight.

If he looked any longer, he wouldn't be able to leave the room, let alone the suite.

He turned to the window and dialed a number, his gaze never leaving me.

"It's me. Send a set of women's clothes to the suite. Size S. Make it fast."

After hanging up, he pulled a blanket over me. Too late to hide the way my skirt had hitched up, too late to hide anything.

He disappeared into the walk-in closet.

Five minutes later, he emerged in a fresh white dress shirt, the fabric stretching over his broad shoulders, trying and failing to mask the tension coiled in every muscle.

"Be gone by eight. Don't make me drag you out."

His voice was flat, no room for argument.

He needed me gone before he did something he'd regret.

He fastened his last cufflink and walked out, the door locking with a click that felt like a promise. A promise he wasn't sure he could keep.

I opened my eyes wide the second he left, a wolfish grin spreading across my face as I headed for the bathroom.

Tsk.

This old man's resolve was impressively strong.

But not strong enough.

Not for me.

What a shame. Almost moved up a rung in the family pecking order.

But no matter.

Alexander Knight wore beads around his wrist, but his eyes were dark with hunger.

Sooner or later, I'll have this self-restrained man on his knees, begging for every inch of me, right here on his own bed.

I stepped out of the shower, dripping wet, and grabbed one of his discarded shirts.

It flowed on me, falling to mid-thigh, the scent of sandalwood wrapping around me like a hug.

The doorbell rang sharply.

I padded barefoot to answer, my wet hair cascading over my shoulders, the shirt slipping off one shoulder to reveal a faint mark. Leftover from his earlier grazing lips.

I ran a finger over it, smirking.

He thought he was in control.

But I was already winning.

A hotel attendant held out a garment bag."Your reserved clothes, ma'am."

"Thanks."

As I took it, a gasp shattered the silence.

"Lisa White? What the hell are you doing here?"

I looked up. Ethan Knight stood three steps away, his face turning livid, eyes locked on me like a predator.

Panic flared behind his rage. Panic that I'd found someone better, panic that his perfect little toy had slipped his leash.

Behind him, Winnie Carter was wrapped in his jacket, her eyes narrowing with jealousy. A petty, ugly thing that made me want to laugh.

I raised an eyebrow.

The showdown had arrived sooner than expected.

Ethan Knight's face turned purple, his gaze fixed on the oversized men's shirt hanging loosely on my frame.

Hickeys blooming on my collarbone, water dripping from my hair.

Who wouldn't misunderstand?

He was already spinning a story in his head. A story where I was the cheater, not the one who'd been cheated on for six years.

"No texts, no calls. Lisa White, what the fuck are you playing at?"

His voice was hoarse, bloodshot eyes blazing with fury and something darker. Jealousy, raw and ugly.

He was furious, but he was also desperate. Desperate to keep me where he could see me, desperate to own me.

I laughed, loud and sharp.

For this sorry excuse for a man, I'd played the devoted fool for six years?

Six years of ignored texts, six years of forgotten birthdays, six years of being second best to Winnie Carter's whims.

Never again.

Tonight, my"boyfriend"had celebrated Winnie Carter's birthday, completely forgetting it was mine.

I'd been a joke, watching them flirt while I sat alone, until I'd knocked over a glass of champagne on Winnie Carter's dress.

Ethan Knight's friends had howled, giving me two options.

"Take off your dress for Winnie Carter, or chug half a bottle of tequila to apologize!"

I'd looked at Ethan Knight, begging for mercy.

He'd been sitting next to Winnie Carter, spinning a lighter, his face cold.

"Boring, but suit yourselves."

"She can hold her liquor. Won't die."

Those two sentences had crushed my last shred of hope.

Half a bottle of tequila burned down my throat, and in that fiery haze, I'd woken up to the truth.

I was living in a novel.

A nobody character, a pathetic lapdog destined for a tragic end.

My only purpose was to be used, to be trampled on, to end up rotting in a cell, giving birth to a fatherless child before dying a miserable death in the red-light district.

Six years of pouring my heart and soul into this life. Just a few measly lines in the book, a throwaway subplot about a lovesick fool.

How ridiculous.

I lifted my eyes, meeting Ethan Knight's enraged gaze, a slow, cruel smile spreading across my face.

From now on, I wrote the rules.

"The water sounds were so loud on the call tonight. Are you hard of hearing, Ethan Knight?"

Ethan Knight's breath hitched.

The sounds replayed in his mind. My moans, the slick rustle of water, the lazy"yes"that had haunted him all night.

Panic clawed at his chest.

I'd done it.

I'd moved on.

And it was killing him.

I guess he must be thinking. How dare she? Right under his nose, in the Cloud Pavilion of the Nebula Hotel.

He wanted to scream, to grab me and demand answers, to make me regret ever looking at another man.