Raven's Point of View
I slid off his lap too fast.
My head clipped the roof of the car with a dull thud and I hissed under my breath, more embarrassed than hurt. My hands were already tugging my dress down, smoothing fabric that didn't want to lie flat, like it knew what I'd just done.
I could still feel him.
Could still feel everything.
God.
I didn't look at him. I didn't need to. I could feel his eyes on me anyway-heavy, slow, unapologetic-tracking every shaky breath, every stiff movement like he owned the right to watch.
I hated that my body reacted to that.
I hated that I didn't tell him to stop.
I moved to the passenger seat, my legs weak, my heart still racing like I'd just run from something instead of toward it. The leather was warm. The air was thick.
The car smelled like us.
Like sex.
Like heat.
Like something I couldn't undo.
I had sex with him again.
No condom.
No thinking.
It had felt so good-too good-and now the weight of it pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
The thought hit me late and sharp, and my stomach twisted. I swallowed hard, staring straight ahead, refusing to let myself spiral.
I heard the soft zip of his pants behind me. The shift of his body as he moved back into the driver's seat. The car dipped slightly under his weight, reminding me just how big he was, how much space he took up-everywhere.
Silence settled.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
Outside, the parking garage was dark and empty, concrete swallowing every sound. The shadows felt alive, like they were watching us. I pressed my knees together, trying to still the trembling that wouldn't go away.
"You want me to take you home?"
His voice was calm. Too calm.
I shook my head before I could think.
If I went home, I'd have to explain things. To Lila. To Jamie. To myself. I didn't even know how I'd walk without them knowing something was wrong.
I didn't feel like talking.
Didn't feel like lying.
He didn't push.
The engine started, smooth and quiet. The car lurched forward, and then he slammed the accelerator. I gripped the seat, my stomach flipping as we shot out of the garage.
Streetlights flashed over his face, catching the hard line of his jaw, the tattoos on his forearms as his hands flexed on the steering wheel.
Then-
His hand left the wheel.
I gasped softly when his fingers settled on my thigh, warm and solid, just above my knee. Not squeezing. Not moving.
Just there.
Claiming space.
I froze, my breath catching, every nerve lighting up like he'd touched something deeper than skin.
He didn't look at me.
Didn't say a word.
But his thumb shifted once-slow, deliberate-and my stomach flipped.
I stayed still.
Because pulling away felt impossible.
And because some traitorous part of me hated how right it felt-
even now.
We drove.
Past the city.
Past noise.
Past everything unfamiliar.
The streets thinned. Buildings disappeared. Trees started closing in on both sides of the road, tall and dark, like they were watching.
"Dominic," I said finally, my voice softer than I meant it to be. "Where are we going?"
He didn't look at me.
"Home."
One word.
Final.
My pulse spiked.
The road curved upward, the car climbing a long hill, engine steady, unbothered. Then it dipped-
And my breath left me.
A mansion unfolded below us, massive and unreal, lights glowing warm against the dark like something out of a dream I didn't belong in. I blinked, convinced I was imagining it.
I wasn't.
Guards stood at the gate. Armed. Still. Watching.
Dominic's face shifted-hard, controlled, unreadable-as he pulled up. He punched a code into a sleek pad without hesitation. The gates opened slow and silent, metal sliding apart like they'd been waiting for him.
We drove through.
The driveway crunched under the tires, gravel expensive and pale beneath my ankle boots when I stepped out, my bag slung over my shoulder like it was the only normal thing left about me.
A guard opened the door before Dominic even reached it.
Inside, the house was warm. Not just heated-comfortable. Intentional. The lights came on with a soft glow from a wall panel he touched without looking.
Everything felt... lived in. Controlled. Quiet.
Oil paintings lined the walls-originals, not prints. You could tell by the texture, the age.
They weren't there to decorate.
They were there to remind you whose world you were standing in.
I stood there for a second too long, taking it all in, my chest tight.
This was his world.
And somehow, I was standing in the middle of it.
Dominic set his briefcase down, movements unhurried, like nothing about tonight had shaken him.
Like I hadn't just let him inside me.
Again.
I hugged my bag closer, my body still buzzing, my mind spinning.
I didn't know how I'd ended up here.
But I knew one thing, deep in my gut-
Walking into this mansion felt a lot like crossing a line I wouldn't be able to step back over.
And that terrified me.
The hallway stretched forever.
I walked slowly, my boots barely making a sound against the polished floor, my bag hanging heavy from my shoulder. The house swallowed noise. Even my breathing felt too loud.
I could feel him behind me.
Not touching.
Just watching.
Every step I took, I knew his eyes were on me-tracking the sway of my hips, the way my shoulders tightened, the way I kept my spine straight like I wasn't completely undone inside.
I made it maybe five steps before it happened.
Strong arms wrapped around me from behind and I gasped as my feet left the ground.
"Dominic-"
"Relax," he said, already moving, his voice low... amused. Real. Like he was enjoying this in a way that had nothing to do with control.
I clutched his shoulder instinctively as he carried me down the hallway like I weighed nothing.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my heart pounding, my eyes darting around as the house blurred past.
He laughed softly. Not dark. Not cruel.
Sincere.
"You worry too much."
The stairs appeared ahead-long, wide, impossibly elegant-and as he stepped onto them, lights bloomed beneath our feet, one by one, illuminating our path upward.
I stared.
"Wow," slipped out of me before I could stop it.
He didn't answer. Just kept climbing.
At the top, another hallway. Endless doors. Closed. Private. Untouchable.
He stopped at the very end.
Double doors.
Without slowing, he kicked them open.
The sound echoed-deep, final-and then the dark swallowed me whole.
He set me down.
Not gently. Not rough. Just sure.
His body lingered for half a second longer than necessary, heat pressed to my back, his breath close enough that I felt it skim my skin. Then he moved away.
The absence was loud.
I swallowed, my pulse tripping over itself as my eyes struggled to adjust. I could barely make out shapes-space stretching wide around me, shadows layered over shadows.
Then-
Click.
Light bloomed.
Soft at first. Warm. Intentional.
I sucked in a breath.
Above me, the ceiling opened into glass-a massive skylight stretching across the room, the night sky pouring down through it. Snow drifted slowly past the glass, illuminated by the glow inside, falling like something unreal. Hanging beneath it was a chandelier-huge, modern, all sharp crystal lines-catching the light and breaking it into a thousand quiet sparks.
"Oh my god," slipped out of me before I could stop it.
I looked down.
He was holding a black remote in his hand.
Watching me.
Click.
The lights dimmed instantly, shadows sliding back into place, the room sinking into a darker, more intimate glow. Not gone-controlled. Like everything else about him.
My stomach flipped.
He could change the room with his thumb.
I turned slowly, taking it all in now that I could see.
The room was massive. Black walls. Black ceiling. Clean lines. Sharp edges. Minimal. Expensive in a way that didn't need to prove itself.
The bed alone looked bigger than my entire apartment-low, wide, dressed in dark sheets that swallowed light. A couch sat in the center of the room like it belonged in a private suite, angled toward the windows. Nothing out of place.
No pictures.
No clutter.
Nothing personal.
Nothing soft.
It felt... intentional.
Designed.
I turned back to him.
He was already close again.
Towering. Still. Watching me like he had nowhere else to be. Like time didn't exist in this room unless he allowed it to.
His thumb brushed my lower lip, slow. Possessive. Like he was memorizing the shape of it.
"Do you understand what that means, Raven?"
My heart slammed against my ribs. "What does it mean?"
His jaw tightened.
"It means I shouldn't have brought you here."
The words should have felt like distance.
Like restraint.
They didn't.
A pause.
His eyes dropped to my mouth again, darker now. Hungrier.
"But I did."
My breath caught.
Before I could say anything-before I could remind myself of the time, of my friends, of his wife, of every reason this was wrong-
He kissed me.
Hard.
Sudden.
Like he was done pretending he had control.
His hand slid into my hair, tightening just enough to tilt my head back, deepening the kiss without asking permission.
And I let him.
God help me, I let him.
My fingers curled into his shirt, holding on as he walked me backward, slow, deliberate, until the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed.
He didn't rush.
That was the worst part. He took his time. Like he knew I wasn't going anywhere.
Like he knew I couldn't. Somewhere in the back of my mind, reality screamed at me to stop.
To remember who he was.
Who he belonged to.
But it was already too late.
Because when he lowered me onto the black sheets, his body hovering over mine, his eyes locked on me like I was the only thing that existed-
I realized something that terrified me more than anything else.
I didn't want him to stop.
As his mouth moved against mine, deep and consuming, a sound slipped out of me before I could stop it.
A soft moan.
His response was instant.
His body pressed closer, heavier, his presence swallowing mine whole as he hovered over me, one arm braced beside my head, the other gripping my waist like he needed to remind himself I was real.
"No," I whispered between kisses, my voice breaking, weak, betraying me. "Dominic... no..."
But I didn't push him away.
I didn't stop kissing him.
His forehead rested briefly against mine, his breath hot against my lips.
"Stop fighting it," he said quietly.
Not harsh.
Not rushed.
Certain.
His fingers slid down to my thigh, then higher, pushing the fabric of my black dress up slowly.
I gasped as cool air hit my skin, my body suddenly exposed under his gaze.
Bare.
Vulnerable.
Only the ruined panties remained-the same ones his hands had already destroyed in the car earlier, the fabric twisted and helpless against my skin.
He shifted forward, both knees settling onto the bed on either side of me.
Dominic leaned over me fully now.
Towering.
Looking down at me like he owned the sight beneath him.
Like he wasn't asking anymore. My breath hitched as my eyes dropped.
And there it was.
The unmistakable outline of him, hard again.
My throat tightened.
My voice cracked when I spoke. "You just..." I swallowed. "You just fucked me two times."
A dark chuckle left him.
Low.
Dangerous.
Unapologetic.
His hand slid up my thigh slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I'm not done ruining you," he said.
Not loud.
Not rushed.
A promise.
And somehow-
that terrified me more than anything else.
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