Page 2 of His Dark Pull

“Ava,”he says, his voice deep and smooth. “I didn’t know how to live without you.”

I shake my head, trying to fight the pull of his gaze. “It’s too late for that, Alexander. You broke my heart.”

A flicker of memory surfaces – a stolen glance across a crowded room, a shared laugh under the starlit sky, the intoxicating rush of our first kiss. The good times, the happy moments, all overshadowed by the way it ended.The way hevanished without a word, leaving a gaping hole in my heart.

“It’s too late for that, Alexander,”I repeat, my voice trembling despite my attempt to soundstrong.

I try to pull away, but I can’t. My body is glued to his, to his breath, his voice, his scent, his very being.

His eyes, usually so cold, are clouded now, like a storm brewing over the ocean. For a fleeting second, I see the boy I fell in love with,the boywho promised me forever. But then the shadows return, and I’m left wondering if he’s capable of regret.

“I know,”he admits, his voice hoarse. “And I’m sorry. But I promise you, Ava, I’ve changed. I’m a different man now.”

Can I believe him? Can the man who once held my heart so carelessly be different? As the storm outside subsides, all I can focus on is the warmth of his hand on my cheek, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, andthe waymy body aches for him.

Defiance sharpens my voice. “I have someone now, someone kind, someone I can trust—”

The words die on my tongue as Alexander cuts me off. “I know,”he interrupts, his words slicing through my declaration like a shard of ice.

My eyes narrow. “You know? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alexander turns away, his broad shoulders tense as he pourshimselfa whiskey from the decanter on the dark wooden bar. The clinking of glass against crystal makes every muscle in my body tense. It’s a sound that evokes memories of late nights, whispered confessions, and the intoxicating scent of his whiskey-laced breath on my skin. I push the memories away, focusing instead on the anger simmering within me like molten lava.

He rasps, turning to face me.”Tyler Fletcher. Fancy lawyer, pretty boy. Son of Harvey Fletcher, the chief of police. That Tyler?”

My blood runs cold. He knows.

“The best lawyer in Port Haven,”I counter, my voice a touch too sharp.

A humorless chuckle escapes his lips. “It won’t last.”

“You’re one to talk,”I retort, my words bitter. “Tyler is kind, he’s stable. He doesn’t vanish without a word.”

A flicker of pain crosses his face, his eyes momentarily clouding over. He turns away, his back to me. Then, swiftly, he turns around and closes the distance between us, his intense eyes locking onto mine.

I find it difficult to breathe, let alone look away.

“He doesn’t know you,”Alexander says,his voice a low rumble that vibratesthrough me.“The real you. He doesn’t know what youneed, Ava.”

I can feel the blood rushing to my face, a heat that has nothing to do with the fireplace. My skin prickles underhisgaze.

His words strike a nerve, and I feel a tremor run through me. I turn away, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around myself to shield the sudden vulnerability that threatens to expose me.

“And you do?”I challenge, my voice barely a whisper.

He leans closer, his scent – musk, spice, and something darkly intoxicating – filling my senses. “I know you, Ava. All of you.Every inch.”

The blush deepens, spreading like wildfire through my body, pooling low in my belly, ending at the apex between my legs.

It’s hot in here.

His fingers tangle in my hair, his thumb tracingthe line of my jaw.I gasp as he pulls me closer, his lips crashing down on mine with a hunger that ignites a wildfire within me.

I don’t know if I can trust him, but as the storm outside fades away, all I can focus on is the feel of his lips on mine, the way his hands roam over my body, the ache in my chest that screams at me to stay.

He runs his hand from my lower lip across my throat and stops at my soaked blouse. His other hand grabs the back of my head, pulling me close to him. His hips lock against me, his hard length pressing into me.

“You’re wearing a bit too many clothes for my taste, Miss Parker,”he growls as he unbuttons my shirt and runs his hand over my exposed breast, my nipple hardening from his touch. Before I know it, my bra is unhooked, and his mouth follows his fingers and sucks until both nipples are hard. I arch against him, savoring his electric caress. He looks at mewith his intense gaze, then stops for a second. He takes a deep breath as if to take in my scent. One hand is still on my breast, caressing my nipple in circular motions.

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