Page 6 of Depraved Temptation

A waiter discreetly places plates of exquisite food on our table, momentarily breaking the spell. The fragrant aroma fills the air, but it's secondary, a mere backdrop to the deeper hunger we're both experiencing.

As she speaks, Lila's fork dances absentmindedly over the pristine tablecloth, sketching invisible lines. "You know," she hesitates as if treading on uncertain ground, "this place makes me realize how far I’ve come from where I started."

"What do you mean?" I find myself inching forward, leaning in as if her words are gravity and I'm helpless to resist.

Lila's fork leaves one last invisible design on the tablecloth before she puts it down to take a sip of her wine. Her lips lightly touch the rim of the glass, and I can't help but notice how they glisten in the dim light, causing heat to spread within me that has nothing to do with the wine I'm drinking.

"I grew up running from financial ruin. We were constantly on the move, from one tiny apartment to another. It was... rough. Dancing was my ticket out of that life.”

"It's a lot to shoulder," I admit, my voice tinged with a newfound intimacy. Her vulnerability reveals a beauty that's more than skin deep, and I'm spellbound.

"And you?" she prompts softly, her eyes searching mine. "You can relate?"

I find myself lowering my guard. "Being a Harrington comes with its own gilded cage. 'A Harrington never fails,' my father would say. When my brother rebelled, the expectations fell squarely on me. Whether I wanted it or not, I became the quintessential Harrington heir."

Lila’s eyebrows knit in a soft frown, a hint of sympathy in her eyes. "Different worlds, same pressures," she murmurs. "Sharing the truth can be freeing, especially when it's with someone who matches your intensity."

My lips curve into a confident smile. "Intensity is my middle name," I retort. It's as much a challenge as it is a statement, a reminder that I'm not a man to be taken lightly.

The atmosphere between us is so charged it's almost a physical entity, as if the room itself is holding its breath, waiting for what happens next. She doesn't just intrigue me—she entices me, pulling me in, a mystery I'm determined to unravel.

Rising from my seat, I step over to her side of the table, my movements deliberate. I can see her eyes widen as I approach, but she doesn't back away. Her breath quickens, a clear sign she's as affected as I am.

For a second, we're suspended in a moment of anticipation, on the precipice of something neither of us fully understands but both crave. My hand reaches out, cupping her face, my thumb tracing her cheek as if I own this moment—because, in a way, I feel like I do.

Her head tilts back, her lips parting in what can only be described as an invitation. Well, invitations like this don't come often, and I'm not a man to decline.

As I close the distance between us, my lips find hers. The kiss starts off as a mere whisper, a tantalizing promise. But within seconds, caution is tossed to the wind. It becomes urgent, fervent, as if we're both scrambling for a lifeline only the other can provide.

It's a whirlwind of emotions, the world blurring around us as we lose ourselves in each other.

But as suddenly as it began, Lila pulls back, her chest heaving, her eyes clouded with a mix of desire and uncertainty.

"Cameron," she whispers. Just that one word, but it carries with it the weight of a thousand unsaid emotions. "I can't help but think of him, of the implications of... this."

My gaze narrows at the mention of Cameron, my son, a chill settling in where moments before there had been nothing but heat. It's not just the unexpected twist that throws me—it's the audacity that she knew him before me. That she shared something with him.

As I look at her, her eyes clouded with a blend of longing and restraint, an intense, almost predatory possessiveness surges within me. It's as if every fiber of my being screams that she should be mine, and the idea that she could be tied to Cameron in any way annoys me.

"What you had with my son—that's the past," I say, injecting each word with a deliberate intensity. "The past is irrelevant. Our business," I emphasize, gripping her chin lightly and directing her gaze squarely into mine, "is the here and now. What's happening between you and me? That's a separate universe entirely."

I can't help but feel almost territorial about the electricity that's sprung up between us, a connection so raw and immediate it almost defies logic. Cameron's not a part of that. I won't let him be.

"I don't share what's mine, Lila," I state, my voice laced with a seriousness that allows no room for misinterpretation. "And whether you realize it or not, you're on the cusp of becoming that—mine. No past, no complications, just a reality I intend to make happen."

It's not just an ultimatum; it's a promise. I'm staking my claim, and Cameron has no part in it.

Chapter 5

Lila

The first rays of sunlight pierce through the gaps in my blinds, casting elongated shadows across my bedroom. My eyelids flutter open, and for a fleeting moment, I feel suspended between two worlds. My bed's soft, familiar comfort contrasts sharply with the lingering warmth and passion of last night's encounter.

Rolling over, the memories of the night before cascade into my consciousness. Those intense gazes, stolen moments, and most of all, that kiss—it all comes rushing back. I can still feel the pressure of Alexander's lips on mine, the taste of shared vulnerability. The words we exchanged weren’t just casual chatter; they bore weight, a promise of something more.

I sigh, burying my face into the pillow. Despite the complications—and God knows, Cameron's looming shadow makes it all so damn complicated—there's an undeniable pull toward Alexander. It's a refuge, an oasis amidst the chaos. Being in his arms felt like solace.

Suddenly, the soft chime of my phone's reminder breaks through my reverie. Right, Mom's coming over today.

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