She walked in front of me, heels clicking on the club floor. Despite the light show, the chatter of people, and the thrum of music, I could only focus on *my* woman—how she carried herself with pride, shoulders raised in unspoken confidence.
Did she feel safe with me? I'd destroy anyone who dared harm her, even with a word. My instinct whispered she already knew.
She halted abruptly, as if realizing she had no idea where she was going, and glanced at me for guidance. Leaning closer, as though afraid of losing me in the crowd, she flashed the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.
Mischievously, she swayed my fingers within her grip. "I don't remember this club being so prestigious. You have great taste, Christian."
"I *have* the best taste," I said, staring at her. She was, by far, the most striking woman in the room. Her curly blonde hair lent her an almost ethereal glow.
I tightened my hold on her hand, needing the physical proof she was truly real, all mine. "You've been here before?" I asked, making conversation.
"Oh, just a couple of times. It was the cheapest club in the area."
"With friends, you mean? Or other men?" My question was too direct. She raised her eyebrows, laughing, but I couldn't mask my hunger to possess her anymore.
"None I'd call real men. They were boys, really. I'd never felt my feminine side until…" She paused, flushing suddenly. Curiosity flared. The next words could've made me the happiest man alive or fueled my fury.
What would she say? *Until we met?* Was she referencing a past lover? Judging by her crimson cheeks, she'd lie if I pressed further.
I had no right to judge her. There'd been countless women in my life before her, yet I couldn't recall a single face when she stood near me.
Whether she'd had past lovers or not, I'd ensure I'd be her last. I'd make her forget every man she'd ever known, even her own father.
I wanted her wholly mine. And I'd do whatever it took to hear her scream my name so loudly it'd drown out every other voice from my thoughts.
"Ugh, it's so hot in here. I'm turning into a sweaty girl," she muttered, giggling nervously as she fanned her face.
"You're hot-blooded. You blush fast," I remarked, leaning against the counter.
"It's because of *you*! I mean… Heh, what's with all these questions? Interrogating me, Mr. Marosco? Will there be *tools* involved?" She teased, clearly deflecting her nerves.
"I don't need tools to make you talk, Miss Merritt," I said, gesturing for two drinks. "You talk plenty when you're nervous." Her eyes widened, her pulse practically visible.
"Care for a drink to cool down?" I asked, sliding the whiskey toward her.
"Um, I never drink," she said, adjusting her dress with her thumbs. The motion drew my gaze to her chest, and realization struck.
"You *never* drink? How old are you?"
She giggled, dropping her voice to a sultry jazzy purr. "Old enough not to cause you trouble. Dashing man."
"You're worth all the trouble," I said. The reply caught her off guard, shattering her act.
As the night progressed, the music slowed, turning softer and more romantic. Melissa grew confident, dancing in place without even realizing it. But now she was beginning to turn sentimental.
"It's this song," she said, dabbing her eye to avoid smudging her mascara. "It reminded me of a scene from a romantic movie I watched. Sorry… I get emotional sometimes."
"It must've had a great ending," I said.
"They all died. That's why I'm crying. True love, I guess—she never left his side and chose to share his fate."
Her words ignited something in me. That fierce loyalty she valued, a ride-or-die woman with a rowdy heart, all wrapped in the most exquisite body I'd ever laid eyes on. I couldn't hold back anymore. I needed to close the distance between us.
"Offer me this dance?" I said, extending my hand.
"I don't know how to dance. Don't wanna embarrass you with all these important people around," she replied.
"People?" I asked, utterly captivated by her beauty, which seemed to glow from within. "I see only *you*, Melissa." She nearly faltered at the sound of her name on my lips.
Seizing the moment, I guided her by the hand to the dance floor. "Just follow my steps," I murmured. "Lay your arm on my shoulder."
She obeyed before I could finish, looping one arm over my shoulder and stretching the other to coil around my neck, though her fingertips barely grazed it. "Like this?" she asked, gazing up at me with a breathless look.
"Yes," I said, my hands settling on her swaying hips, anchoring her as if she might vanish. She was entirely in my arms. I'd never let go.
The club seemed to dissolve around us, the lights dimming until only her golden curls shimmered. As if we were alone, unwatched, her blue eyes locked on mine.
I pulled her closer, crushing her against me, and claimed her lips in a ravenous kiss. She moaned a faint protest, but her arms seized the chance to wind around my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as my kisses trailed to her exposed throat.
I devoured her soft skin, intoxicated by her scent, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath the accidental scrape of my stubble.
Nothing could come between us. Then, a shot sound echoed. She jolted. I grabbed her, holding tight, my body shielding hers without thinking.