Chapter 12 – Temptations in the City
Aria hadn't expected the whispers.
The moment she walked into the luxury restaurant at Damien's side, heads turned. Phones lifted subtly. She could feel the eyes on her dress, on his hand at her back, on the way he leaned in close when he spoke only to her.
It was intoxicating — and terrifying.
Halfway through dinner, a woman approached. Elegant, stunning, dripping with diamonds. She leaned far too close to Damien as she greeted him, her manicured hand brushing his sleeve.
"Damien. It's been too long," she purred, her gaze flicking over Aria with a faint smirk.
Aria froze. She told herself it didn't matter, but the sharp twist in her chest betrayed her. She forced a polite smile, but inside, jealousy burned hot.
Damien's reply was polite, clipped — but when the woman walked away, Aria couldn't hold it in.
"Do all women throw themselves at you?" she hissed under her breath.
His brow lifted, amused. "Are you… jealous?"
She scoffed. "Of course not." But her fingers clenched the wine glass too tightly.
Damien leaned closer, his voice low, dangerous. "You are. And I like it."
The ride back was tense. Aria stared out the window, refusing to meet his gaze, but her body was alive with restless heat.
The moment they entered his penthouse, Damien pressed her against the door.
"You think I even looked at her?" he demanded, his mouth inches from hers. "I couldn't take my eyes off you all night, Aria."
Before she could reply, his lips claimed hers — hard, possessive, making her gasp. His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips, pressing her into him.
Her jealousy melted into raw desire.
Clothes came off in a frenzy, scattered across the floor. Damien lifted her onto the counter, spreading her thighs as he kissed her hard enough to steal her breath.
"Mine," he growled against her lips, his hands gripping her waist as though daring her to deny it.
Aria arched into him, gasping as his mouth trailed down her neck, her chest, claiming her with bites and kisses. Every touch was possessive, every movement fueled by jealousy and need.
When he finally pushed inside her, it was urgent, rough, their moans mingling as the city lights bled through the glass windows.
He drove into her with desperate intensity, as though proving something with every thrust. She clung to him, nails raking down his back, lost in the storm he created.
When she shattered around him, his name broke from her lips like a prayer. And when he followed, holding her tight, there was no doubt left.
Aria might have been jealous, but she was his. Completely his.