Chapter 2 One Night Stand

Claire's POV

The first sensation was heat. Not the gentle caress of morning sunlight, but the lingering warmth of shared intimacy still clinging to silk sheets tangled around my bare legs.

I stirred, disoriented, and his scent hit me-crisp as pine, cool as mint, utterly masculine. My eyes fluttered open to find myself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, where a crystal chandelier caught the pale dawn light like scattered diamonds.

This wasn't my bedroom.

I sat up abruptly, the Egyptian cotton sheet pooling at my waist. My body ached in places I'd never known could ache, each throb a stark reminder of what had happened. What I'd allowed to happen.

Oh God.

The truth crashed over me like ice water: I'd slept with a complete stranger.

A stranger whose face was burned into my memory-sharp jawline, eyes like emeralds, a voice that had rumbled through my bones when he whispered my name in the darkness.

Lucius.

Even thinking his name made my skin prickle with awareness.

The steady sound of running water drifted from what I assumed was the bathroom. He was still here. Still in this impossibly elegant penthouse that probably cost more than I made in a year.

Panic clawed up my throat. I needed to leave. Now. Before he emerged and we had to navigate the excruciating awkwardness of morning-after small talk with someone I knew absolutely nothing about.

My red dress lay crumpled near an antique chair like discarded evidence. I clutched the sheet tighter, my mind a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories from the night before.

It had started with a kiss. Hungry, testing, almost possessive.

With a soul-consuming need that left me burning.

Just one kiss from him made me feel things I'd never experienced in all those years with Ethan.

When he pulled back, I gasped for air, words tumbling out. "I don't usually do this."

"I know," he murmured, his thumb tracing my neck. "You don't have to explain anything."

I looked up at him and drowned in his intense gaze. My mouth went dry as heat pooled low in my belly.

His touch was electric, and I felt a magnetic pull toward him that I couldn't resist.

Lucius undressed me slowly, reverently, like he was unwrapping a precious gift.

His lips never left my neck, kissing, tasting, his teeth grazing my burning skin and making me shiver.

Tortured by aching need as I tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. His body was magnificent-strong arms, sculpted chest, and perfect abs that were rock-hard under my touch. A small scar ran across his chest, resembling claw marks.

Before I could admire him further, he scooped me up and laid me on the bed. His hands explored every curve, every sensitive spot until I was soaking wet beneath him.

When he finally pushed inside me, a sharp flash of pain made me gasp.

He froze instantly, his entire body going rigid.

"Claire," he whispered, his voice strained, "is this your first time?"

I nodded, suddenly shy and uncertain.

Would he stop now, thinking I was some inexperienced woman with no sexual appeal?

His eyes darkened. Surprised, pleased, no hint of mockery-just that faint golden glow flickering again.

"If it hurts too much, I can stop."

Even in this moment of passion, he was considering my comfort. The thought made my heart swell.

"Don't stop. Please continue," I breathed.

His control snapped. With a low growl, he began to move. Each thrust filled me completely, erasing the emptiness.

My body stretched to accommodate him, pain giving way to pleasure so intense my breath hitched.

"Mine," he whispered against my skin, his voice rough and husky.

When he flipped me over, taking me from behind, his teeth kept returning to the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. The sensation of his hot breath and gentle scrape of teeth sent shivers down my spine. He wanted to bite me in some primal way I couldn't understand but desperately craved.

One climax crashed into another as he drove me relentlessly toward pleasure. His stamina was endless. Just when I thought we were finished, he would begin again, his desire seemingly insatiable.

"So perfect," he groaned, fingers digging into my hips with bruising force.

By the fourth time, my body was limp, my mind floating in a haze of satisfaction. As he reached his final release, his body tensing above mine, I heard him growl a single word.

"Mate."

I slipped into unconsciousness wondering what he meant.

The shower cut off abruptly.

I scrambled for my clothes, fingers clumsy with panic. My inner voice screamed for escape-but before I could reach the door, it opened with unnerving quietness.

Lucius stepped out wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, water droplets trailing down his chest. In the harsh light of morning, he looked impossibly beautiful. Too perfect to be real.

Our eyes locked. His were cooler now, unreadable-like chips of arctic ice.

For a heart-stopping moment, neither of us spoke.

His gaze flickered to the bed, landing on the unmistakable evidence staining the pristine white sheets. A muscle in his jaw ticked.

"That was your first time." Not a question. A statement heavy with implication.

Heat flooded my cheeks. "That's none of your business," I snapped, trying to inject defiance into my wavering voice.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through damp golden hair. "I should have stopped."

"Yeah," I bit out, forcing a bitter laugh. "You definitely should have."

He turned toward an expensive-looking dresser, reaching for his wallet.

My heart plummeted.

Of course. This was the part where he'd throw money at me-payment for services rendered. Because that's what this was, wasn't it? A transaction between strangers.

Before he could say another word, I snatched my purse, fumbling for the crumpled bills left over from last night's aborted anniversary dinner. A hundred and fifty dollars. Barely enough for a taxi home.

I threw the money onto the dresser's polished surface.

"There," I spat, voice cracking despite my efforts. "That's about what you're worth."

The words tasted like poison on my tongue.

Lucius went utterly still.

Then he turned, slowly, his eyes no longer cold but burning with dangerous intensity. "You think I would treat you like that?" His voice was low, deceptively soft.

My throat constricted. "What else am I supposed to think?"

Something shifted in the air between us. The room grew heavy, charged. His pupils dilated until molten gold flickered beneath the green-bright, unnatural.

"Lucius..." I whispered, backing away slowly. "What was that?"

He didn't answer. His breathing grew rough, labored. For a terrifying heartbeat, I thought he might... change. Into what, my panicked mind couldn't fathom.

Then he blinked hard, and the unnatural light receded, leaving his eyes a turbulent storm of green.

"Get dressed," he said quietly, turning away as if fighting invisible chains. "You'll catch cold."

That tiny flicker of concern only sharpened my humiliation. "Don't pretend you care."

He didn't move. Didn't look back. But I heard the faintest crack in his voice when he murmured, "You shouldn't run from me, Claire."

"Watch me."

I grabbed my shoes and bolted.

The hallway stretched endlessly before me, my heels clicking against marble like gunshots. By the time I reached the lobby, I was half-shaking, half-laughing-the kind of hysterical sound that precedes a breakdown.

Outside, the morning air slapped me with frigid reality. The city was awakening around me-people rushing to work, cars honking, everyone blissfully unaware that somewhere above, a foolish women had just left pieces of herself in a stranger's bed.

I walked quickly, my mind a chaotic loop of fragmented memories: his touch, his voice, that impossible shimmer in his eyes.

Maybe it had been the light. Maybe I'd been drunker than I realized.

But then I heard it.

A sound. Low. Deep.

It came from behind me-distant yet too close for comfort. My heart leaped into my throat. I spun around to find... nothing. Just an empty street, sunlight spilling between skyscrapers.

Still, the air felt electrically charged, as if something unseen was watching.

I clutched my purse tighter and walked faster, pretending not to hear the faint echo that seemed to follow-a guttural sound swallowed by city wind.

My heart refused to slow, still hammering a desperate rhythm. My skin burned where his hands had been, my entire body thrumming with strange energy.

I told myself it was adrenaline. Shame. Nothing more.

By the time I reached my apartment, my hands were still trembling. I slammed the door and fumbled with the locks, then pressed my forehead against the cool wood, trying to steady my breathing.

One night. That's all it was supposed to be.

A mistake. A catastrophic lapse in judgment.

But every nerve in my body screamed otherwise.

Because even now, if I closed my eyes, I could still feel him-the lingering warmth of his breath, the heavy pulse of his heartbeat, that barely contained growl beneath his careful restraint.

And deep down, a reckless, secret part of me knew.

Whatever Lucius was, he wasn't done with me.

And God help me, I wasn't done with him either.