Raven's Point of View
I logged out of my computer, fingers moving on autopilot as the screen faded to black. The machine hummed softly-sleek, expensive, probably worth more than my entire childhood home-and for once, I didn't care. I was done. Mentally. Emotionally. Spiritually.
I meant to text Lila.
I didn't double-check.
Me: Don't forget the sweater pls. It's freezing outside.
The message sent.
And then I saw the chat name at the top.
Absolutely Not LLC
Jamie's idea.
Low Life Committee.
Because according to him, the three of us had a talent for making terrible decisions and surviving them anyway.
My chest dropped straight to my stomach.
No.
No, no, no.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Jamie: Why do you need a sweater?
My fingers went cold.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding so loud I swore someone nearby could hear it.
Another message came through.
Jamie: You were wearing the devil's jacket this morning.
I swallowed hard.
Here we go.
Jamie: So what happened?
I locked my phone immediately and shoved it into my bag like it had burned me.
"Fuck," I whispered under my breath.
I grabbed my bag, stood up too fast, and twisted open my water bottle. I drank what was left in one go, my throat dry, then crushed the empty bottle and tossed it into the trash beside my desk-overflowing with crumpled papers from today alone.
I didn't answer the text.
I couldn't.
I wasn't ready to talk about it. Not with Jamie. Not with Lila. Not with anyone.
I took off down the hallway, I made the turn without slowing, walking fast, my chunky boots thudding dully against the marble floor, the sound heavier than heels, louder in its own way. Solid. Determined.
Normally, I'd stop. Say I was heading out.
Not today.
Not after last night.
Not after this morning.
Not after giving the jacket back.
I refuse to look toward his door.
The elevator doors slid open, and I stepped inside. The cold hit instantly.
I hugged myself, arms crossing tight over my chest, goosebumps rising along my skin. God-I hated how empty I felt without the jacket. Without the warmth. Without his scent clinging to me like it belonged there.
My phone buzzed again in my bag.
I didn't need to look.
Jamie.
I slammed the button for the lobby, ready to escape.
Almost free.
"Hold the elevator."
My stomach dropped.
No.
Instinctively, my hand shot out to stop the doors from closing. A terrible, stupid reaction-but I couldn't help it. The moment I realized what I'd done, panic slammed me sideways.
And then-
A large, veiny tattooed hand slid between the doors.
Dominic stepped in. Towering. Dominating. Overwhelming.
The elevator shrank. The air thickened. His scent-sandalwood, spice, him-hit me like a physical force. I sucked in a sharp breath and pressed myself against the far corner, trying to disappear.
He didn't move away. Didn't even blink. His dark eyes burned straight into mine, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Like a predator who knew exactly what he wanted... and I was it.
"Going somewhere, sweetheart?" His voice was low, smooth, dangerous.
I forced my voice steady. "I'm leaving."
"Mm," he murmured, stepping closer, the heat of his body already brushing mine. "You've been avoiding me all day."
"I've been working," I shot back, trying to ignore how every inch of me was betraying me.
His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate. I shivered. "That's not what you were doing last night."
My knees nearly gave out. He leaned closer, pressing just enough for me to feel the hardness in him through his slacks.
"You can pretend all you want," he whispered, voice a low growl, "but we both know that wasn't nothing. You were dripping for me... aching for me... and I could feel it everywhere I touched you."
I had nowhere to go, trapped between him and the elevator wall.
"You think I forgot?" he murmured, voice laced with wicked amusement. "The way your tight little pussy wrapped around me, milking my cock?"
I gasped.
Heat exploded between my legs. My thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction, desperate to release the tension clawing at me.
He followed every move, closing the space, smelling me, feeling me squirm without touching.
"You were wrecked, sweetheart," he breathed. "Five times moaning my name... and I haven't even started again."
I gasped, pressing back against the wall, trying not to sink to the floor right there.
I looked down.
And gasped.
His boner was undeniable. Thick. Hard. Pressing against his expensive slacks in a way that made my mouth go dry.
Dominic noticed. Of course he did.
He tilted his head, his dark eyes burning with something ravenous.
"You see what you do to me?" His voice was low, dangerous, full of raw hunger. "I'm not even touching you. Not even fucking you."
"Look at me," he commanded, stepping so close I could feel his cock pressing against me. "Do you feel how hard you make me?"
I wet my lips. "You were just a mistake."
Dominic's smirk didn't falter. But something flickered in his eyes. Something dark.
"A mistake?" he repeated, voice calm, too calm.
I swallowed hard. "Yes. Just a moment of weakness."
His smirk was sharp, predatory. "A mistake makes you come like that? A mistake has your body screaming for more? I don't think so..."
He reached out, letting one hand ghost along my hip, brushing over the spot he'd claimed yesterday. My back arched instinctively.
"You want me," he said, his voice low and thick. "You want this. You know it. You can't hide it."
I bit my lip, trying to stay composed. But my body betrayed me. I wanted him. I wanted to feel him deep inside, feel him take me against the wall, right here, right now.
"Say it was a mistake," he murmured, lips near my ear. "But I know you can't lie to yourself."
I shook my head. "I-"
"Shh," he interrupted, voice velvet and steel. "I don't need words. Your body says it all."
He moved closer.
Too close.
Dominic bent down slowly, deliberately-because he was so much taller than me-until his face hovered right beside my neck. His breath brushed my skin, hot and slow, and my entire body locked up.
"Dominic-" I gasped.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he hooked one finger under my chin and pulled my head to the side, exposing my neck completely. Claiming it. Leaving the soft curve bare and vulnerable.
And then-
His mouth was on me.
I cried out.
He sucked hard, lips sealed to my skin, slow and deep, like he wanted to leave his mark there forever. My knees nearly gave out instantly, my hands clutching at his shirt as my body betrayed me.
"Oh-God-" I moaned, my voice breaking embarrassingly loud in the elevator.
He groaned against my neck, low and rough, like my reaction satisfied something feral inside him. He kept sucking, teeth grazing, tongue dragging, his mouth moving slowly from one spot to another, making me gasp, making me melt.
My head tipped back against the wall.
I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.
And then I felt it.
His large hands sliding down my sides... down my hips... until they grabbed my thighs.
I gasped sharply as he lifted one leg, hooking it over his thick thigh. My body opened instantly, instinctively, and I felt how wet I was through my panties.
God.
"So fucking sensitive," he muttered against my skin.
He sucked harder.
I was a moaning mess, clinging to him, my hips rocking helplessly against his thigh as the friction made my core throb. My panties were soaked now-sticky, embarrassing, needy.
I wanted him.
I wanted him so bad it hurt.
And then-
The image slammed into my mind.
The newspaper.
Him.
His wife.
Their picture. Smiling. Perfect.
My chest tightened painfully.
"No-" I whispered, shaking my head. "No."
I shoved at his chest, panic and guilt flooding me all at once. "Stop."
But he didn't move.
Instead, he slowly released my leg, letting my foot hit the elevator floor.
Before I could even breathe-
Both of his hands slammed above my head.
Trapping me completely.
I froze.
Dominic loomed over me, his body caging me in, eyes dark, hungry... amused.
He smirked.
A slow, knowing, dangerous smirk.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he murmured. "You were enjoying that."
I glared up at him, chest heaving. "You're married."
Something flickered in his eyes.
Gone just as fast.
He leaned down again, lips brushing my ear. "And you're still soaked for me."
My breath stuttered.
His smirk deepened.
"You think about her," he whispered, "but your body still reacts to me."
I hated that he was right.
I hated that my legs were still trembling.
I hated that I wanted him even now.
The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open.
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