Chapter 2

Emily Windsor's POV

He held me captive in his arms, leaving me no choice but to tilt my head back and stare at his perfect jawline.

My consciousness blurred under the influence of alcohol. I only remember him carrying me through an endless hallway, then pushing open a door and laying me down on a plush king-sized bed.

He yanked off his tie and stalked toward me, step by deliberate step. Then he leaned over me, palms planted on either side of my body, caging me completely in his shadow.

I gazed up at his face, so close I could count his eyelashes. Those ice-blue eyes now blazed with raw desire.

I reached up, my fingers trailing along his muscular arm, feeling the coiled power beneath his skin. I couldn't help giving it an experimental squeeze. "Not bad. Pretty solid."

His eyes softened with something almost tender. "Does that meet your standards?"

"I suppose it'll do." My hands slid lower with deliberate slowness, my voice taking on a teasing, flirtatious lilt as I reached for his belt buckle.

He caught my wrist in an iron grip, his gaze searing into mine as he asked, one word at a time, "Are you certain you won't regret this?"

I showed no hesitation. Instead, I grew bolder, hooking my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. "What's wrong? Worried I can't afford your rates?"

A smile curved his lips, though his eyes remained unreadable.

He braced one knee against the edge of the bed, his fingers hovering at the zipper of my black dress before slowly pulling it down.

When the straps slipped from my shoulders, I couldn't suppress a shiver.

Jacob had been my only lover. This level of intimacy with a stranger left me feeling exposed, vulnerable in ways I wasn't prepared for.

His movements paused. He raised an eyebrow, seemingly enjoying my discomfort, waiting to see me crack.

I bit my lip hard and wrapped my arms tighter around his waist.

I was Emily Windsor, damn it. A litigator who'd destroyed opponents in the courtroom with nothing but words. Even in this mortifying moment, my pride wouldn't let me show weakness.

He seemed to recognize my inexperience but didn't call me out on it. His fingertips descended, their scorching heat branding my skin even through the fabric.

His gaze traveled from my collarbone downward, hunger burning in those glacial eyes. He leaned close, his breath hot against my ear. "I want to see you cry for me."

I turned my head, my lips nearly grazing his cheek. "Then I guess you'd better earn it."

The next second, he gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes, and crashed his lips against mine in a kiss that was both dominating and scorching.

Things spiraled out of control faster than I'd anticipated.

It had been so long since I'd been intimate with anyone. My body was hypersensitive, every nerve ending amplified. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through me.

"You like that?" His voice was a low rumble in my ear, punctuated by another powerful thrust.

I couldn't hold back a long moan, my hands clawing frantically at his back.

He reached for his tie from the nightstand, binding my wrists behind me with methodical precision.

Without that support, I had no choice but to wrap my legs tightly around his waist.

The new position only seemed to drive him wilder. His hands gripped my hips as he drove into me with renewed intensity.

I fought to suppress the overwhelming pleasure, biting back every sound, but the more I resisted, the harder he pushed. This building, desperate need was something I'd never experienced before.

Time became meaningless. He worked me over until my face was flushed, my breathing ragged, and I finally broke, whispering, "Enough... please... stop..."

He leaned down, pressing kisses along the tear tracks on my cheeks, then smiled against my skin. "You look absolutely beautiful when you cry."

Before I could respond, he flipped me over effortlessly, pressing me face-down into the mattress as he thrust even harder.

"It hurts..."

I turned my head to protest, but he silenced me with another kiss. This one tasted of whiskey and something darker, impossibly sweet, making me forget the pain entirely.

He took advantage of my distraction, lifting one of my legs against his chest, savoring the contact before withdrawing slowly, drawing in a sharp breath, then slamming back in.

"Ah..."

Despite clenching my jaw, I couldn't stop the breathy sounds escaping my throat.

He threw his head back, panting heavily, as if he had inexhaustible energy when it came to taking me apart.

He didn't let up the entire night, not until I finally passed out beneath him in a haze of exhaustion.

When I woke the next morning, every muscle ached, and I was still locked in his tight embrace.

Now completely sober, mortification washed over me. I began studying the man holding me captive.

He was gorgeous—more handsome than any movie star I'd ever seen. Even in sleep, he radiated an untouchable, aristocratic coldness.

My breath caught. I couldn't believe that in my drunken state, I'd ended up in bed with someone this devastatingly beautiful.

When did male escorts start looking like Greek gods?

Remembering his almost savage intensity from last night made me shudder. I needed to get out of here.

Carefully extracting myself from his arms, I got dressed and glanced back at the stunning man still sleeping peacefully. Gritting my teeth, I fled without looking back.

Consider it a dream. Just a dream.

My legs trembling, I made it out of the hotel and climbed into a cab. That's when I noticed dozens of missed calls on my phone, all from Jade.

Worried she might be panicking, I called her back.

She answered on the first ring, her voice flooding with relief. "Oh thank God, you're actually alive..."

I frowned. Just because I'd slept with some guy didn't mean I'd nearly died.

Reaching for my purse, I suddenly remembered—I'd forgotten to pay him. I smacked my forehead. "Hey, do you have that escort's contact info from last night?"

"Escort?" Jade paused, then her voice went up several octaves. "You think he's an escort?"

"What else would he be?"

Devastatingly handsome, alone at a women's club like The Velvet Room—what else would that make him? A secret mob boss?

"He's actually..." Jade started, then stopped herself mid-sentence, clearly reconsidering. "Wait. So you two... you actually slept together?"

"Mhmm." I kept my tone casual. "He was pretty good, actually. I just forgot to pay him."

Jade sounded completely baffled. "You want to pay him?"

"Shouldn't I?"

She seemed at a loss for words, but before she could elaborate, my colleague Joe's call came through.

"I need to take this. Just text me his info, okay?"

I quickly hung up on Jade and answered Joe's call.

"Emily, we've got a problem with that case we took on last week!"