Page 15 of My Bloody Valentine

“You touched me.” Her voice drops low, seductive. “Made me come with barely a touch.”

“A mistake.” Still, as I utter the lie, I want to do it again. Want to feel her wet heat around my fingers, want to taste her essence.

“Was it?” She presses her palm against my chest. “Because it felt deliberate. Perfect.”

My heart pounds beneath her touch. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She should be afraid and running from the darkness she senses in me. Instead, she’s drawing closer, like a moth to a flame.

“I shouldn’t have—” The words catch in my throat as her hand slides lower, ghosting over my erection.

“But you did.” Maya’s fingers trace my length through my slacks. “And I want more.”

I grab her wrist, stilling her movement. The contact sends electricity racing through my veins. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Then show me.”

Three simple words that threaten to shatter years of careful control. I want to. I want to show her everything—every grotesque fantasy. The need to mark, claim, and make her mine in ways that would terrify most people.

But this wasn’t part of the plan. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ve already crossed one line today—how many more can I cross before I lose myself completely?

I step back, putting distance between us despite every instinct screaming to pull her closer. “I don’t mix business with pleasure, Ms. Kendall.”

“This feels like it’s already mixed.” Undeterred, Maya’s fingers trail down my tie.

I catch her hand, holding it firmly. “Then let me unmix it. Allow me to take you to dinner tomorrow night.”

She blinks, surprise crossing her features. “Dinner?”

“Yes. A proper date.” I straighten my jacket, finding my footing in familiar etiquette. “I may have unconventional tastes, but I was raised with certain standards.”

Color floods Maya’s cheeks as reality seems to sink in. She glances down at her rumpled dress. “Oh my God. I just... in your tasting room...”

“Indeed.” I allow a small smile. “I’d prefer our next encounter to be more traditional.”

Maya takes a deep breath, her sound mind and normal composure returning. “You’re right. This is... this is insane. We barely know each other.”

“Then let’s change that.” I fish my phone out. “Eight o’clock? I know a quiet place downtown.”

She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. The confident seductress from moments ago has transformed into something softer, more vulnerable. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“I’ll send a car.” I open the door for her, maintaining a respectable distance. “And Maya?”

She pauses in the doorway, looking back.

“Dream of me tonight, little critic.” My voice drops low, promise coating each word. “Dream of how I made you feel with just my fingertips. Imagine what I could do with my whole body.”

A delicious blush spreads across Maya’s cheeks, down her neck, disappearing beneath the deep V of her neckline. Herpulse jumps at her throat—that spot I’ve been aching to taste. She grips the doorframe, steadying herself.

“I...” Her voice catches. “I should go.”

I remain rooted, hands clasped behind my back to avoid reaching for her. The distance between us crackles with electricity and danger.

Maya takes one step back, then another, her eyes never leaving mine. The evening air catches her hair, carrying another whiff of jasmine to my nose. My cock stirs at the recollection of her moans of pleasure.

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the sidewalk. I watch until she disappears around the corner, fighting the urge to follow. To claim.

Not yet. Soon.

7

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