Chapter 5 Heat Without Touch

After work that day, Sienna didn't go home.

She let a stranger take her to a downtown suite.

He was older. Handsome in a salt-and-sweat kind of way. He talked too much. Smelled like expensive leather and desperation.

She let him peel her dress off. Let him kiss her everywhere. Let him fumble toward the part where she usually forgot everything.

But this time, she couldn't.

Because he wasn't Jason.

And nothing about him lit the fire she needed.

When he moaned her name again and again, it felt wrong.

When he gripped her hips and pounded harder, it was supposed to make her feel better, but it made her stomach twist.

When he came hard, she felt nothing.

Not even annoyance.

She left while he was in the bathroom.

Didn't wait for payment.

Didn't leave a note.

She walked home barefoot, heels in one hand, the other hand grabbing her hair in frustration, dress clinging to her thighs in the humid midnight air.

Her skin buzzed. Not only with need - but with disorientation too.

She had spent so long drowning out the world with noise and sex and sweat. And now? Someone had pulled the plug. The silence rushed in, and she had no idea what to do with it.

Back in her apartment, she stood in front of the mirror.

Mascara smudged. Lipstick gone. Neck bruised.

She pressed her fingers to her collarbone and whispered, like a secret she hadn't meant to say out loud:

"Why can't I stop thinking about you?"

Outside her window, the street was quiet. No music was even coming from the old record shop.

But she didn't look.

She didn't need to.

Somewhere out there... he was watching.

And for the first time in years, Sienna Blake wanted to be seen.

Jason

She reminded him of storms.

Not the kind that screamed through the sky in chaos - no. Sienna Blake was the quiet ones. A silent storm. The kind of storm that crawled under the ground like smoke, pressing heat into the earth until everything burned from the inside out.

Jason watched her move like a woman who had mastered seduction but lost her appetite for it. Every gesture was choreographed. Every smile cost her something.

She gave her body like a weapon - sharp, polished, controlled.

But the fire behind her eyes?

That was wild. And it was the only thing she hadn't sold yet.

He was determined to reach it.

He didn't want to tame her. That wasn't the point. Women like her couldn't be tamed. He likes her that wild.

He wanted to witness her. Every broken piece. Every wicked curve. Every inch of fury she used to stay afloat.

He had seen women like her crumble under the wrong hands.

And Jason had the patience to never reach too fast. At least, not yet.

He returned to Velvet Smoke three nights later. Alone again.

Asked for her. Again.

This time, she was waiting.

Sienna

She wore red.

Not a glittering stage red. Not candy-apple seduction.

Blood red. Silk robe, with nothing underneath.

The private room was lit in gold and shadows. Intimate. Closed-door. Her domain.

He entered like he'd already seen it all - slow, deliberate, calm. Same tailored suit but a different colour. Same quiet confidence.

She didn't let him speak first.

"You want to watch me?" she said. "Fine. Sit down."

He did.

She stood in front of him. Untied her robe.

Let it fall.

Jason's eyes flared, she was a beaut.

Her body was bare fire - sculpted, glistening, offered.

She let the silence stretch a little before she spoke again.

"I'm not going to ask again," she said. "You want me? Take it."

Jason tilted his head. "Is that what you want?"

"No," she snapped. "That's what you don't do. So now I'm calling you out."

Jason stood.

She took a step back.

He didn't touch her. Didn't even reach.

He circled her once. Slowly. Close enough for the heat of his breath to raise goosebumps along her spine.

Still no contact.

Still no words.

Her thighs clenched. Her heart pounded.

"You think I'm afraid of being touched?" she said, voice shaking.

"No," he murmured from behind her. "I think you're afraid of being wanted without giving anything first."

She turned to face him, naked, furious, aching.

He stepped close. Close enough for her nipples to brush the edge of his jacket.

Still didn't touch her.

But when he spoke again, his voice was low enough to land between her legs.

"I could ruin you, Sienna. But I won't. Not until you want to be ruined."

She shuddered. Her name in his mouth alone was enough seduction.

He stepped back. Picked up his coat and walked out.

Left her standing there. Wet. Open. Untouched.

Her legs have her out and she collapsed onto the velvet chaise the second the door clicked shut.

She was sweating. Breathing hard. Her nipples were tight, her thighs slick, and her entire body screamed for something she couldn't name yet.

She'd danced for billionaires. Fucked men twice her age. Been worshipped. Been used.

But never, ever had anyone refused her like that.

Refused her but still left her gasping.

It wasn't rejection.

It was power.

And for the first time in her adult life... the power wasn't hers.

When she emerged backstage, robe tied again but trembling beneath it, Cassie was waiting for her as she was done with her shift for the night.

Sienna didn't say a word. Just sat beside her, silent, electric.

Cassie handed her a cigarette.

"You don't even smoke," Sienna muttered.

Cassie shrugged. "Figured tonight might be different."

Sienna lit it. Inhaled. Exhaled.

"I think I met my match," she whispered.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "So you gonna fight him? Or let him win?"

Sienna's smile was sharp. Tired.

"Neither. I'm gonna burn him with me."

Cassie didn't blink.

"I'll bring marshmallows."