Raven's Point of View
The 30th floor was silent.
Everyone had gone home hours ago. It was past seven now, and my feet were screaming in these stupid heels. I didn't even realize a twelve-hour shift was possible for an assistant, but apparently Dominic Derveaux didn't believe in normal work hours.
I packed my things, finished my watery seven-hour-old lemonade, tossed the cup, cracked my back, and let out a tired sigh.
Time to go home.
I walked down the quiet hallway toward his office. I knocked, my fingers trembling from exhaustion more than nerves.
A rough "Come in" answered.
I pushed the door open-and his scent hit me immediately. Expensive cologne. A hint of liquor. Warm skin.
Dominic sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, forearms veiny and tattooed, tie loosened, hair a little messy like he'd been running his hand through it while thinking. Papers scattered in front of him. He looked focused, stressed, and... tired.
Very human, for once.
I cleared my throat gently.
"Um... I'm heading out for the night."
His pen paused mid-stroke.
Not slammed.
Not dropped.
Just paused.
He lifted his eyes to mine, slow and unreadable.
"You're leaving."
I blinked. "Yes. My shift is over."
Silence.
Not angry-just... evaluating. Processing.
"You're taking the bus?" he asked.
His tone wasn't harsh. Just low. Quiet. Too knowing.
I swallowed. "It comes every hour. I missed the earlier one so... yeah."
His jaw tightened-not in rage, but in something subtle. Something controlled. Something that didn't want to show itself.
"You should've left earlier," he said. "You didn't have to wait for me."
"I thought assistants stayed until-"
"No." His voice cut in, firm. "Not on your first day." His eyes flicked over me-my tired posture, the ache in my shoulders, my worn-down energy. "Go home."
I nodded, relieved. "Okay. Goodnight, Mr. Der-"
His jaw flexed.
Quietly. Barely.
But I caught it.
"Dominic is fine," he said.
My heart tripped.
"...Okay, Dominic."
The name felt strange leaving my mouth. Too personal. Too close to something I didn't understand yet.
Something shifted in him.
His shoulders went still, like every muscle locked into place at once. His gaze darkened-not anger, not exactly. Something heavier. Sharper. Like the sound of his name in my voice landed somewhere deeper than it should have.
His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against the edge of his desk, the tendons in his hand pulling taut before he forced them to relax.
For half a second, he just stared at me. Like he was recalibrating. Like he hadn't expected that to affect him.
"Goodnight," I added quickly, heat crawling up my neck.
I reached for the door handle, ready to go home and finally get out of these heels. My fingers wrapped around the cold metal, and I'd barely pulled the door two inches when-
"Raven."
His voice.
Low. Smooth. Sharp enough to stop my entire body.
I froze, turning my head just enough to look back at him.
Dominic wasn't even looking at me now-just sitting there with his head slightly bowed, pen balanced between his fingers like he was deciding whether to write or break it in half.
He spoke without lifting his eyes.
"I can drop you home."
My heart slammed so hard against my ribs I felt dizzy.
"...Pardon me?" It came out too soft. Too unsure. Too what the hell.
He still didn't look up.
Didn't repeat himself.
Didn't explain.
Just said, calmly:
"It's going to rain."
I blinked. "Rain?"
He nodded once, barely. "Any minute now."
And that made my chest twist.
Because... How did he know?
Was he checking the weather?
Was he checking for me?
I swallowed. "I-I'll be fine. The bus will come soon."
He didn't argue.
He didn't scoff.
He didn't even breathe differently.
But his jaw flexed once. A small, controlled tension that told me everything he wasn't saying.
He finally picked up his pen again, eyes back on the document in front of him.
"Goodnight, Raven."
Just that.
No more.
No less.
An offer he didn't have to make.
A warning he didn't explain.
A tension I absolutely did not understand.
I stepped out, closed the door quietly, and leaned my back against it for just one second, trying to force my heart to calm down.
What the hell was happening with that man?
And why did it feel like he noticed everything... except the fact that he was married?
I pressed the button for the normal elevator like a sane person and stepped inside.
As the numbers counted down-30... 29... 28...-I hugged my arms tight around myself.
My nipples were hard as hell.
Frozen. Obvious.
God, why did I forget a bra?
I groaned softly into my hands.
I seriously needed to start thinking before putting clothes on.
One day with this man and I was already mortified enough to last a lifetime.
The elevator dinged, and the lobby came into view.
Dark.
Empty.
Every light was off, except the massive floor-to-ceiling windows letting in New York's glow. The rich side of the city was alive even at night-cars, lights, restaurants, people.
My neighborhood was alive too. Just differently. It was loud. Messy. Human.
I pushed open the heavy glass door with way too much effort.
The cold hit me immediately, making me tighten my blazer around myself, pulling it close like a shield.
I crossed the lively street, weaving through people dressed in clothes I could never afford. Car doors opened for women in heels worth more than three months of my rent. Some guy laughed as he stepped into a Lamborghini.
Must be nice.
I blinked hard as my eyes burned.
Nope.
Not crying.
Not on the first damn day.
But the tears still rolled down-hot, unwanted-before I sniffled them back, wiping them quickly.
I made it to the bus stop where a few people were already waiting-office workers, a couple on their phones, someone half-asleep on the bench.
I reached for my phone to check when the bus was coming even though I knew it came every hour. I just... needed to see something.
But before I even unlocked the screen-
A cold drop hit my cheek.
Then another.
Then a dozen more.
I looked up.
And cursed under my breath.
The rain came fast and heavy, pouring like the sky had been holding a grudge all day.
He was right.
Dominic was right.
And somehow... that made my stomach twist in a way I didn't understand.
Rain poured harder and harder, soaking everything within seconds.
The people at the bus stop scattered instantly-running under awnings, ducking into stores, shielding their bags like their lives depended on it.
And then there was me.
Standing alone in the downpour like the universe's favorite joke.
"Great. Just fucking great," I muttered to the empty, shiny sidewalk.
My blonde hair was plastered to my face, sticking to my cheeks and lips as I yanked it back with a wet, frustrated swipe.
I wrapped my soaked blazer tighter around my chest-not that it helped when I could feel everything through the thin blouse underneath. My nipples were basically two frozen distress signals.
I know for sure the bus wasn't coming for another hour.
And I wasn't standing there shivering like a wet cat.
"Screw it," I said, already grumbling. "I'll walk. The bus will meet me halfway."
...okay, I would meet it halfway, technically, but whatever. My brain was too cold to care.
I stepped off the sidewalk and started down the long stretch of street leading to the next major stop. Cars honked, splashing puddles. The rain hit harder.
New York felt huge and cruel and fast.
And my feet-
God.
My feet.
The heels were digging into my skin like torture devices, every step worse than the last. First day on the job and my feet were already plotting my murder.
"Fuck this," I hissed, stopping.
I grabbed the back of one heel, yanked it off, then the other.
I held them both in one hand-my only pair, the pair I needed for tomorrow-and started walking barefoot across the slick concrete.
Cold.
Wet.
Miserable.
Exactly how my life loved to keep me.
The rain ran down my spine. My skirt clung to every inch of me. I probably looked insane-barefoot, wet, clutching heels, dragging myself home like a drowned rat.
I kept walking.
One long block.
Then another.
Then-
A sound.
A car.
Low engine.
Slow.
Following the pace of my footsteps.
My heart stuttered.
I didn't turn around at first. I just clutched my heels tighter, water dripping off my eyelashes as I kept going.
But the headlights behind me didn't pass.
They stayed.
Crawling behind me like the driver was watching me.
Like the car was tracking me.
And suddenly... I wasn't sure if the rain was the coldest thing around me anymore.
I stopped.
Just long enough to finally turn around.
The car behind me stopped too.
Not just any car-an expensive, impossibly rare, glossy black machine that looked like it cost more than my entire apartment building. Rain hammered against the hood, sliding down the sleek metal like the sky itself respected it.
Of course the windows were tinted.
Of course I couldn't see a damn thing inside.
Of course it was the exact type of car people disappeared into.
My stomach dropped.
"Nope," I breathed, hugging my bag tighter.
I picked up my pace.
And the car rolled forward too.
Closer.
Matching my steps.
"What the fuck..." I whispered, my pulse spiking.
I sped up.
The car sped up.
That was it-
I started running.
Barefoot.
Soaking wet.
Clutching my heels in one hand and my bag in the other.
Rain hitting my face so hard I could barely see.
My breath was a mess-sharp and loud.
My chest burned.
Water dripped down my lashes, my hair, my clothes-everything sticking to me like glue.
The car sped up again.
I almost screamed.
Then-
It slowed.
Not stopped.
Not sped away.
Just... slowed.
I turned my head while still running, heart ready to explode-
"RAVEN!"
The voice cut through the rain like thunder.
I skidded to a stop, almost slipping.
That voice.
I knew that voice.
Dominic.
Dominic Derveaux.
Of course.
Of course it was him.
I stumbled backward toward where the car had finally stopped, the tinted window slowly rolling down.
I marched straight to the driver's side before I could think-
soaking wet, barefoot, freezing, and absolutely not in the mood.
"You-" I pointed at him, breathless, furious, dripping everywhere. "-almost gave me a fucking heart attack!"
Dominic just sat there, one hand on the wheel, rain pattering on the roof above him, looking at me like I was the one acting crazy.
And then he smirked.
A slow, deep, infuriating I-told-you-so smirk.
Because he did.
He did tell me the rain was coming.
He did offer me a ride.
And I told him I'd be fine.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes dragging over my soaked hair, wet clothes, bare feet, and trembling hands.
"Looks like," he drawled, voice low and satisfied, "you're not fine."
I glared at him, chest rising and falling fast from running.
"That's not the point!" I snapped. "You don't creep behind someone in the dark like a-like a kidnapper! I thought you were trying to murder me!"
His jaw ticked.
His smirk didn't fade.
He took one slow breath, eyes never leaving mine.
"I told you it would rain," he said simply. "You didn't listen."
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because now, standing here soaked and shaking like an idiot, I had nothing to argue with.
He watched that realization hit me.
And his smirk deepened just enough to make me want to throw my heels at him.
"Get in the car, Raven."
His voice was calm. Commanding.
Like the storm didn't affect him-like nothing ever did.
The rain hit harder.
I shivered.
Dominic lifted an eyebrow.
And my heart dropped again.
What the hell was happening-
and why did being dragged into his world feel more dangerous than the rain?
"I'm not getting in your car," I said immediately.
My voice wasn't strong.
Not with rain dripping into my mouth.
Not with my shirt stuck to my skin like plastic wrap.
Not with my nipples literally outlined and pointed straight at him thanks to the freezing air.
And definitely not with the entire inside of his car glowing warm and golden behind him, lighting up every inch of my soaked disaster body.
Dominic's eyes flicked-just once-down my chest.
Just once.
But it was enough.
His jaw clenched so hard I heard it.
He forced his gaze away like it physically hurt him to look.
The dim streetlight above us flickered. Most of the block was dark-one of those weird New York pockets where half the power goes out and nobody bothers to care.
The rain only made it creepier.
He sat there, hand draped over the wheel, muscles shifting under that white shirt, the warm interior light hitting the sharp lines of his face.
He stared at me like I was the unreasonable one.
"I said," I repeated, hugging my arms around myself as my whole body shook, "I'll be fine."
Lightning flashed somewhere far behind the buildings.
He didn't blink.
"Raven. Get in the car."
It wasn't a suggestion.
But I shook my head harder. "No. You-you did enough today. You bought me food and-and..." I swallowed, cheeks burning. "You were staring at me again."
His eyes snapped back to mine like I'd slapped him.
Good.
Maybe he'd deny it.
He didn't.
He stayed silent.
Jaw tight.
Rain hitting the hood like gunfire.
"And your light is on," I added, voice cracking. "You can see everything."
I didn't have to look down to know what everything meant. The cold had my nipples practically cutting holes through my blouse.
His nostrils flared. He looked away again, staring straight out the windshield, breathing slow and controlled-like if he didn't control it, he'd lose it.
The warmth pouring out of the open window hit my legs.
It smelled like him inside-dark cologne, leather, expensive wood.
God, it would feel so good to be warm.
So good to sit.
So good to stop freezing and shaking.
But I stood my ground.
"Raven." His voice dropped lower. Rougher. "It's pouring. You're soaked. It's cold. You're walking in the dark, barefoot. Get in the car."
I hugged myself tighter. "Dominic... you're a killer. I don't think it's safe for me to be in your car."
He looked at me.
No expression.
Not offended.
Not surprised.
Just... blank.
Like me calling him a killer wasn't an insult.
It was a fact.
A job title.
A damn hobby.
Then-
He smirked.
A slow, cruel, knowing smirk that made my stomach twist.
"That's the smartest thing you've said all day," he murmured.
My breath hitched.
"But I'm not asking you to be safe," he added, voice dropping into something darker. "I'm telling you to get out of the rain."
I stared at him, heartbeat punching my ribs.
"I'm still not getting in," I whispered. "I'll take the bus."
"No," he said simply.
Just that.
As if the universe agreed with him.
I swallowed, forcing the words out.
"Plus... you're married." My voice trembled. "I don't think it's appropriate to be in your car."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Not confusion.
Not guilt.
Something more dangerous.
He leaned just slightly closer to the open window, rain dripping down the frame.
His voice was low. Dark. Edged with something I couldn't name.
"And what, exactly..." he said, "...does my marriage have to do with getting you out of the fucking rain?"
My heart nearly stopped.
Because that didn't sound like a married man.
It sounded like a man who didn't give a single damn about the rules he lived under.
Or the danger I was stepping into.
"You're married," I snapped, breathless. "That's what it has to do with this."
He just stared at me through the storm, jaw flexing, eyes dark and dangerous-like thunder lived inside him.
"So?" he said.
So?
Oh my god, I wanted to scream.
"So?" I repeated, my voice cracking. "Dominic, are you hearing yourself right now?"
His hand shifted.
I heard the click of his door unlocking.
Before I could react, he pushed it open and stepped out-slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.
The moment his tall body unfolded from the car, I instinctively stepped back.
He straightened to his full height, rain pouring over his dress shirt, turning the white fabric transparent against his chest. Then he shut the door with a heavy thud, the sound echoing through the downpour.
And suddenly he was just... standing in front of me.
Massive.
Warm.
Unbothered by the storm.
Completely focused on me.
"You chased me in a damn car," I said, throwing my hands up. "You scared the hell out of me. And for what? To tell me your marriage doesn't matter-?"
"I didn't chase you," he said calmly. "I expected you to wait."
"You never said that!" I laughed, hysterical. "You think everything works because you say so. I don't work for you outside the office!"
He stepped closer, and I swear the air between us snapped like electricity.
"You work for me everywhere," he murmured.
My breath left my body.
"No," I whispered. "I don't belong to you."
His eyes dropped to my lips. Then my neck. Then back to my eyes.
"Then why'd you run from me?" he asked quietly. "If I don't matter?"
My chest tightened.
Because I felt everything.
Because being near him felt wrong and right at the same time.
Because his wife existed.
Because I shouldn't want him.
Because he shouldn't want me.
"I didn't run from you," I lied.
His shirt clung to him like a second skin.
White.
Soaked through.
God help me.
It looked expensive-felt expensive-even soaked through. The fabric darkened, molding to every hard line beneath it, and I sucked in a breath when I realized I could see the ink under it. His tattoos pressed close to his skin, shadows and sharp lines showing through the wet white material like it was barely there.
Oh.
My.
God.
He looked like sin carved out of marble, dripping rain and danger and heat in front of me.
He caught me staring.
Of course he did.
His mouth tugged into that smirk-the one that made my knees weak and my brain shut off and my attitude spike just to hide it.
"You were sprinting like the rain had a knife."
"I was scared!" I shouted. "Your car was creeping behind me in the dark like a horror movie!"
He stepped close again-too close-until rain from his hair dripped onto my cheeks.
"Don't be scared of me," he murmured.
"Then stop acting like something I should be scared of!"
His eyes softened.
Barely.
Just enough for me to see he heard me.
Not enough for him to back down.
"I told you it was going to rain," he said, voice low, "and you didn't listen."
"Dominic," I groaned, rubbing rain from my forehead. "This is not about the damn weather."
"Everything you do is about you not listening," he said. "You walk home alone at night. You run from my car-"
"Because you're married!"
Silence.
Only rain.
The rain was the only thing talking now-loud, heavy, storming around us.
His smirk vanished.
His whole face changed.
Shuttered.
Darkened.
Something sharp flickered behind his eyes-not guilt, not regret.
Something far more dangerous.
His chest rose slow and deep, that wet shirt stretching over muscle. A drop of water slid down his tattooed throat, disappearing into his open collar.
He didn't step back.
He didn't break eye contact.
He didn't soften.
He just stared at me like I'd said the one thing he refused to hear.
My pulse thudded painfully in my neck.
"Dominic..." I whispered, suddenly unsure, suddenly aware I'd crossed into territory no one walked into and came out normal.
He blinked once.
Slow.
Controlled.
Then his voice-quiet, lethal-cut through the rain.
"Don't say that again."
My heart stopped.
Because he didn't say I'm not.
He didn't say you're wrong.
He didn't say I didn't mean to get close.
He just commanded me not to say it.
His jaw clenched, rain dripping off the sharp line of it.
"I shouldn't have to explain myself to you," he said, low and dangerous, "and yet-"
He leaned down, so close the raindrops bouncing off him landed on my lips.
"-you make me want to."
My stomach flipped so violently I nearly swayed into him.
His voice dropped lower. Rougher.
"I shouldn't be here."
My breath hitched.
"You are," I whispered.
His chest collided with mine-not touching, not yet, but close enough that the heat radiating off him drowned out the cold rain.
"I know," he murmured.
And God help me...
He almost sounded angry about it.
He dragged a hand down his face, wet hair slicking back.
"I'm asking you again," he said softly. "What does my marriage have to do with you and me?"
My heart dropped into my stomach.
"There is no you and me," I whispered.
He stepped into me so close my back nearly hit the wet car.
Dominic took one slow step forward, and I swear the air disappeared.
His height hovered over me, his shadow swallowing mine, rain dripping off him like he'd walked straight out of a storm just to find me.
I gasped when his body stopped inches from mine-close enough that his minty breath brushed the shell of my ear, sending a violent shiver down my spine.
He didn't touch me.
He didn't have to.
"Then why," he whispered against my ear, voice low and dangerous, "do you look at me like that?"
I swallowed.
"Like what?"
His breath ghosted over my cheek, warm even in the freezing rain... and then his hand moved.
Just one finger.
One finger under my chin.
I froze as he slid it upward-slow, deliberate-lifting my chin like he was testing how easily he could control me.
My lips parted on instinct. His were inches away, close enough I could feel the heat rolling off him, close enough I swore he could feel my heartbeat punching against my ribs.
Rain ran down his jaw, dripping onto my collarbone.
He tilted my chin higher, forcing my eyes to his.
"Like you want me to kiss you."
My throat closed.
My legs nearly gave out.
I hated him for being right.
I hated myself for letting him.
"I don't," I whispered.
He bent down to my height, his massive body towering over me, his face hovering just above mine. His minty breath brushed my lips-warm, intoxicating.
I gasped, heart slamming, fingers trembling at my sides.
My brain screamed he's married!
But my body?
My body forgot everything except the way his presence made me melt.
His jaw flexed, sharp lines pressed dangerously close. I could feel every heartbeat, every controlled breath.
Inches away.
Just inches.
I wanted to step back.
I couldn't.
"Raven..." he murmured, low and dangerous.
My knees almost gave out. My chest rose too fast.
I hated myself for wanting this.
Hated myself.
But oh... God...
I wanted it.
"Liar."
My heart stopped.
Thunder cracked somewhere behind us, shaking the sky.
Rain slid down his hair, dripping off the ends, dragging along his long, thick lashes-lashes any girl would kill for.
Then down to his red, full lips.
God. His lips.
So plump.
So kissable.
I actually bit my own.
When I did, his eyes-already dark-went black.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
Lingering.
Hungry.
Possessive.
The rain was pouring now, hammering the pavement around us, but all I could feel was him-
His heat.
His body.
The sheer weight of his presence closing in on me, like he was about to cage me against the car.
My breath caught-hard.
Before I even processed it, I rose onto my tiptoes, pulled by something I didn't understand.
Something I didn't even try to resist.
And this time-
We actually met halfway.
My mouth hovered a breath away from his. Just a breath.
He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring like he was losing control. Like he was about to take my mouth with his.
Then reality slammed back.
Married.
He was married.
And yet... here he was, bent down, inches from me.
I jerked my head to the side, forcing myself back onto my feet even though every inch of me screamed to lean in again.
I waited for him to step back.
He didn't.
His breath still fanned my face-only now it brushed my cheekbone because I was turned away. I swallowed, unsure, then slowly... carefully... turned back to look at him.
His jaw was clenched so hard I could see the muscle ticking beneath his soaked skin. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen.
Not angry.
Not annoyed.
He looked...
Disappointed.
Tormented.
Like he was fighting something inside himself with everything he had-and losing.
His chest rose and fell, rain dripping down the hard lines of him, soaking through his shirt, sticking it to every carved muscle.
I forced out a whisper.
"I'm not lying."
He leaned even closer, his lips brushing the air just above mine.
"You are."
My stomach twisted, heat rushing low and dangerous.
He let out a slow breath-right onto my mouth-making me shiver.
"You wanted to kiss me," he murmured. "And you almost did."
My throat closed.
"You're married," I choked. "I shouldn't-"
His jaw flexed again. Sharper this time.
"But you wanted it."
Not a question.
And the worst part?
He was right.
His breath still brushed my cheek when I finally forced myself to speak.
"You don't know what I wanted," I whispered, my voice barely steady.
He made a low sound-almost a scoff. But darker. More offended. More... affected.
His eyes dragged down my face, to my lips, then back up.
"I know enough."
God.
The way he said it-like it was a fact carved in stone-made heat coil low in my stomach.
I swallowed hard.
"Dominic... you can't just-you can't talk like that."
"Like what?" he rasped.
"Like you know me."
His jaw ticked, a storm behind his eyes.
"I do know you."
A shaky laugh slipped out of me.
"No, you don't."
His head tilted slightly, raindrops sliding down the sharp cut of his cheekbone.
"You flinch when people raise their voice," he murmured.
"You bite your lip when you're nervous.
You lie when you're scared.
And your eyes..."
His gaze locked onto mine.
"...your eyes tell the truth even when your mouth won't."
My breath stalled. Completely.
I took a step back-or tried to. He didn't touch me, didn't block me, but his presence alone made retreat impossible.
"Don't analyze me," I whispered.
His voice dropped lower.
"Then stop making yourself so damn readable."
My heart slammed.
"Readable?"
He exhaled sharply, like he couldn't hold it in.
"I can see everything you feel."
I shook my head.
"You're wrong."
"No," he said immediately. "I'm not."
Silence hummed between us-thick, heavy, electric.
Rain hammered the sidewalk. Thunder rolled. His shirt clung to him, outlining every inch.
"You wanted to kiss me," he added quietly.
"And you wanted to kiss me," I shot back before I could stop myself.
His eyes snapped to mine.
Deadly.
Hungry.
Caught.
He lifted his chin slightly.
"Yes."
My heart nearly fell out of my chest.
Yes.
He actually said it.
"But you stopped," I whispered.
"No," he said, voice rough. "You stopped."
My stomach flipped painfully.
His breath brushed my jaw-warm, minty, wrong, perfect.
"Why?" he demanded. Not gentle. Not soft. Like the answer belonged to him.
I clenched my fists.
"Because you're married."
His eyes didn't soften.
If anything, they sharpened.
"I wasn't thinking about my wife," he said.
The confession hit like lightning.
"Dominic-"
"I was thinking about you."
My knees buckled.
He leaned closer, lips inches from my skin, not touching.
"Say it wasn't what you wanted," he murmured. "Look me in the eye and say it."
I looked up.
And hated myself.
Because I couldn't.
My lips parted, but the truth tangled in my chest.
His expression darkened.
"You can't," he said. "That's why you turned away."
I swallowed.
"You think turning away means I wanted you?"
His eyes burned into me.
"It means you wanted me too much."
Heat surged through me so hard I nearly swayed.
"You're wrong," I whispered.
He stepped closer, his heat warming my rain-soaked skin.
"No," he said again, voice sliding over my neck like smoke.
"I can feel it."
My legs trembled. I gripped my bag strap to steady myself.
Then-
He leaned down, lips brushing the space near my ear.
Barely.
Just barely.
His whisper was molten.
"You wanted me to kiss you, Raven."
I gasped-sharp, involuntary.
He smiled. Dark. Knowing. Dangerous.
"See?"
His breath ghosted along my jaw.
"You still do."
He lowered his face until his nose nearly brushed mine.
"Tell me you didn't want me to kiss you."
I couldn't breathe.
Couldn't speak.
Couldn't lie.
"I..." I whispered.
His eyes dropped to my lips. Slowly. Deliberately.
"You can't say it," he murmured.
And he was right.
I couldn't.
Because I did want it.
I still wanted it.
And he knew.
God-he knew.
He pulled back the smallest inch, eyes still locked on mine.
"Get in the car," he said quietly. "You're soaked."
"I'm fine."
"You're freezing."
"I said I'm fine."
His jaw ticked.
Then, softly-almost painfully-
"Please."
That was what broke me.
I looked at him-his drenched hair, soaked shirt, rain sliding down his cheekbones, eyes searching my face like he was begging me to stop fighting him.
My heart twisted.
I flicked rain off my blazer and stalked around the car, shivering, dripping, yanking the back door open.
Dominic flipped me off.
"This ain't a damn Uber. Get in the front."
I rolled my eyes.
"Nah. I like the back. More legroom."
He growled low.
"Raven."
Sharp.
Low.
A warning.
My spine straightened instantly.
He said it again, quieter. Darker.
"Front. Now."
No shouting.
No attitude.
Just that tone.
My body reacted before my brain did.
I scrambled out like the seat burned me, slammed the door shut, and rushed to the passenger side.
The second I slid in, my soaked skirt hit the leather and I cringed. Wet. Sticking. Ruining his immaculate seat.
I opened my mouth to apologize-
Then his door shut.
Dominic got in too.
Still drenched.
His shirt clung to him, water dripping from his hair down his neck, soaking into his collar. He didn't wipe it away. Didn't seem bothered.
He just sat there.
Large.
Silent.
Wet.
His presence filled the car like the storm itself had followed him inside.
My breath stuttered.
A drop of water rolls down his jaw, lands on his thigh, and disappears into the fabric of his pants.
He turns his head slowly-so slowly-eyes dragging over my drenched hair, my soaked shirt, the way I'm hugging myself for warmth.
A muscle flexes in his jaw.
"Seatbelt."
His voice is low. Dark. Rough in a way that makes every part of me tighten.
My hands shake as I reach for it, and the leather squeaks beneath me because I'm still literally dripping all over his damn car. I wince again.
"Sorry," I whisper.
He doesn't reply.
Instead, he leans in-closer, closer-his warm breath brushing my cheek as he grabs the seatbelt himself and pulls it across my body, clipping it in with one clean click.
My breath hitches.
His massive, veiny, tattooed forearm presses against me through my wet blouse, and... it brushes against my hardened nipple. I almost moan, but I force myself to stay quiet.
Heat pools between my legs, my body betraying me as it presses against his hard chest. His other tattooed arm rests close, the seatbelt tight, and his face-God, his face-is only inches from mine.
He smells like rain, mint, and something sinfully intoxicating that makes my pulse spike. I can feel myself getting wet, and it scares me because how could someone be this... hot, this close, and completely untouchable?
His soaked shirt brushes my arm.
His thigh bumps mine.
He pulls back only an inch.
He cuts me a look so sharp my whole chest tightens.
"You're ruining my seat."
I push my wet hair off my face, voice shaky but still full of attitude.
"Well, maybe if you weren't wet too, you wouldn't be saying that. And maybe if you hadn't chased me in your creepy blackout car like a damn serial killer, your precious leather wouldn't be soaked either."
His jaw locks.
I see the muscle tick.
He inhales once-slow-like he's trying not to snap.
"You ran from me," he says, voice razor-low. "That was stupid."
I scoff, hugging myself for warmth.
"Sir, you drove after me in the rain, in a blackout car. Anyone would've bolted."
His jaw clenches harder.
For a second, he just stares at me.
The rain hits the windshield.
The street is dark.
And his eyes... God. They look darker than the night outside.
Then he mutters, "You should've gotten in when I told you to."
I roll my eyes, because I can't help myself.
"Yeah, well... I didn't."
He turns his full head toward me.
Slow.
Dangerous.
Unblinking.
"You listen when I warn you, Raven."
My breath stutters-because I know he's right.
Because my whole damn body did listen when he said my name.
"Whatever. I'm in the front now, aren't I?"
He smirks.
That slow, infuriating, knowing smirk.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "You are."
And then he puts the car in drive...
Like he didn't just hunt me down through a storm and drag me into his world again.
I wipe the rain off my face and force my voice to work.
He waits.
Eyes forward.
Jaw tight.
"Um... my address is-" I swallow. "1452 Oak Street."
The second the words leave my mouth...
His expression changes.
It's subtle.
But I see it.
His jaw tightens.
His nostrils flare just a little.
And his eyes-cold, focused, calculating-shift, like he just connected dots I didn't even know existed.
He knows that neighborhood.
Everyone in the city does.
The poor side.
The forgotten side.
The side people like him never step foot in.
His fingers curl around the steering wheel, knuckles flexing.
And then-
Silence.
No comment.
No judgment.
Just a heavy, tense quiet that fills the entire car.
He pulls out slowly, one massive tattooed hand gripping the wheel, forearm flexing under his rolled sleeves. His other hand rests on his thigh-big, veiny, inked to hell-like he's fighting something in his head.
God, he looks... unreal.
I try not to stare, but the way the streetlights slide across his jawline...
The way his shirt clings to his chest...
The way his tattoos move when he turns the wheel...
I look away before I embarrass myself.
I hug my arms around myself, still shivering.
Without saying a word, he reaches forward and turns on the heat.
Warm air blasts softly through the vents, hitting my skin, my wet shirt, my numb fingers.
I blink, caught off guard.
He doesn't look at me-not even once.
He just keeps driving, shoulders wide, jaw clenched so tight I swear it might crack.
For a moment, I think he's still mad about earlier.
But no...
This feels different.
He's not angry.
He's bothered.
By my address.
By where I live.
By what it says about me.
Something about that realization makes my stomach twist.
I clear my throat softly. "You don't... have to turn the heat on. I'm fine."
He finally speaks-voice low, rough, almost irritated.
"...you're shaking."
I look down at my hands.
They are.
But I didn't think he'd notice.
Or care.
The car fills with warmth.
With his cologne.
With silence that feels thick enough to choke on.
And he doesn't take his eyes off the road once.
Not even when his jaw clenches again like he's grinding his teeth over something he won't say out loud.
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