Page 39 of Forbidden Empire (Sinful Gods #1)

Twenty-One

E SME

From Aidon’s penthouse, the view stretched down the entire Strip, glittering and endless. If I narrowed my eyes and leaned just right, I caught the garish, leering faces of the clowns on the Circus Circus sign, all the way at the far end. But the Strip at night was something else.

Gone were the tourists darting for shade, desperate to escape the sun’s relentless glare. Now they spilled in waves onto the neon-soaked street, stumbling and shouting, high on too much alcohol and the thrill of being somewhere they’d seen in movies.

The women wore sequined dresses so tight they shimmered like scales, clinging to every curve. The men strutted in shirts loud enough to stop traffic, their arms draped around each other, sloshing oversized drinks.

Under the pulsing lights, the scene was electric, feverish, almost hypnotic. I wondered what it felt like to experience Vegas as a visitor. To not know what lurked behind the glitz, or the power games that kept the city alive.

They were clueless. They had no idea that everything was about to change.

I hugged myself, drawing in a shaky breath as the tension coiled deeper in my gut. Aidon hadn’t tried to talk me out of it again, but I knew better than to trust the calm.

The closer we got to go-time, the more my anxiety twisted and sharpened. I wouldn’t put it past him to try to stop me at the last possible second.

But my determination burned hotter than his stubbornness, hotter than anything he could throw at me. No way was I going to let him stand in my way.

My muscles still ached from our last fight, and the memories kept looping in my mind like some broken record.

Rhea’s army was no joke. They’d put everything on the line to stop us from getting to her. One wrong move, and any of us could end up seriously hurt or worse.

The thought of Aidon getting hurt made my skin crawl.

I hated it. We were getting closer, whether we liked it or not, even if both of us seemed hellbent on pretending otherwise.

The push and pull, the constant friction, it was driving me insane. I couldn’t settle, couldn’t breathe right.

Yes, I knew I was part of the problem. Maybe the biggest part. It was like self-inflicted torture, and I just kept coming back for more.

If I wanted it to end, I could walk away. Nothing was stopping me. No one was holding me hostage. I’d had more than enough chances to pack up and disappear for good.

"You're not going to disappear on me again."

I hadn't heard Aidon approach, but his words sliced through my thoughts like he'd been eavesdropping inside my skull. My spine stiffened. The space between us felt too small, too charged.

I turned to face him, stalling with a deliberate exhale.

"Every instinct I have is screaming at me to run," I said, the confession tasting strange on my tongue.

His lips curved upward, predatory and pleased. He crossed the distance between us with measured steps, his fingers finding my jaw and tilting my face until I had nowhere to look but into those eyes that saw too much.

“So, stop thinking,” I felt his words, soft and low, settle over me.

Simple enough, but it landed like a gentle touch, smoothing out the roughness in my head.

Then his mouth found mine.

Slow, sure, a little desperate. Not like before. Nothing rushed.

He kissed me with a kind of longing that curled through me, warm and steady. I pressed closer, every inch of me greedy for it, for the feeling of being held tight in his arms and pulled right up against him.

His tongue teased at my lips, careful, testing.

I let him in, easy, no resistance. My mouth opened, and the kiss deepened, heat and comfort tangled together.

Oh, fuck.

I moaned before I could stop myself, and then Aidon kissed me harder, like he was trying to drown out my thoughts and feelings with his mouth.

And honestly? It worked. We were just there, all lips and tongues and raw hunger, until it was impossible to ignore the way my whole body wanted him.

It was real. Straight up honest, no bullshit. Intimate in a way I didn’t even know I needed, but damn if I wanted to let go.

This wasn’t about winning.

It wasn’t about keeping score.

Not about power, or playing games, or who could resist the longest.

None of that crap.

It was just…a kiss. For pleasure. For comfort. For the hell of it.

And holy shit, it was good.

With all the other stuff stripped away, it was just pure, stupid bliss. The second Aidon’s shoulders relaxed, and he held me against him, soft and careful, I freaking knew he felt it too.

Not that either of us would ever say that aloud.

Feelings? For each other? Yeah, right. Let’s not get carried away. Neither of us were anywhere close to that mess.

But in that weird, quiet moment, with no drama, no tension, just us and the way being together felt…it was deep. Uncomplicated. Unflinching.

And I wanted more.

So much more.

Before I could overthink it, I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he lifted me like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed.

He set me down, but the second he looked at me again, any hint of tenderness vanished.

His eyes were wild, greedy, like he was going to devour me.

I could see it all over his face: he thought I was his. Which was cute because there was no way in hell I’d ever belong to anyone.

Not even someone like Aidon, who was the definition of sexy, successful, and impossible to resist.

Nice try, though.

“You don’t own me, Aidon,” I said, forcing the words out.

Even as I tried to talk tough, my body wasn’t getting the message.

That look he gave me. It should have pissed me off.

Instead, it sent a shiver all the way down, making my whole brain short-circuit with lust.

The war in my head? Alive and well, and there was no sign of a truce.

And I was soaked between my thighs. Every nerve was on fire.

I told myself to get a grip, but my libido just laughed in my face.

Brain versus body? Ha. Not even a contest.

Aidon nudged my thighs apart, slow and deliberate, and leaned in over me on the bed.

His face hovered just above mine, close enough that I could feel his breath.

Then he grinned that way he does, a crooked, cocky smile that made me want to smack him and kiss him, all at once.

Infuriating. And irresistible.

“If you’re not mine, then why do you keep coming back to me, Esme?” He caught my lower lip with his teeth and bit down, just enough to make me shiver.

I moaned. It slipped out, and I pulled back, trying to think, to weigh my options.

I could push him away.

That would be the smart, sane thing to do.

It would also be the easiest, or so it was supposed to be.

In reality, it felt goddamn impossible.

So, the other option. The reckless, delicious one. I didn’t even debate it. I spread my thighs, wrapped my legs tight around his waist, and tugged him closer.

His cock pressed against my pussy, and the sensation made me gasp, my head spinning.

His pupils went dark, all storm and sex, and it sent a jolt straight through me.

He cupped my cheek again, fingers firm and gentle, and shook his head.

“Esme, you’re fucking killing me; you know that?

” His voice was rough, jagged. “Can you see it? I need this. I need you, Esme. Not anyone else, not ever. I don’t even know why.

I don’t know what happens after tonight.

Maybe I’ll never see you again, maybe this is it.

But right now, we’re here. Right now, I don’t want to waste another second not touching you.

I want to forget all of it, just for tonight.

I want to lose myself in you and pretend nothing else matters.

Shut everything out. ” He dragged a hand through his hair, eyes wild.

“Don’t you want that, too? Tell me you do, Esme. Please.”

Hearing him talk like this, the vulnerable, it was a risk. He knew it. He knew I could laugh at him, push him away, slam the door in his face. He knew how high my walls were, how far I’d go to keep him out if I wanted to.

And still, he said it.

And yet, he still went for it and opened up.

Like, against all odds, he put his messy, stormy feelings right on the table for me to see. Same kind of chaos I was dealing with.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed him and kissed him, hard. His mouth was hot, hungry. The passion of it hit me right in the soul.

Smashed through all the walls and all the “no, don’t go there” and every little bit of caution I’d ever built up.

Hit me straight in the center, no mercy.

We must have been making out for what felt like hours. City noise drifted in through the window, while our bodies were so intertwined that nothing else seemed to matter. All other thoughts vanished.

Alone, in the darkness of his bedroom, we dropped every worry and inhibition. There was nothing left between us but raw nerves and skin, stripped bare.

His hands, rough and sure, slid over my skin, tugging at my clothes until they fell away. I fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off his broad shoulders as soon as I managed.

Then the jeans; I popped the button, shoved them down his hips, and onto the floor.

I needed him. I needed the heat of his body pressed against mine, the way he burned from the inside out, the way his essence seemed to blanket me.

It felt like I might die if I didn’t get it.

Once his shirt hit the floor, my hands were all over him. Hard shoulders. Biceps that probably bench-pressed small cars. Forearms, taut and corded, my fingers lacing with his as he kissed me like he hadn’t eaten in days.

I felt the same. Starving for him. Ridiculous, because we’d just had sex a few hours ago.

And his little speech? About how I should go with it for tonight, just for now?

My brain decided to buy that. Like he’d slipped me a hall pass to drop all my usual hangups, at least for tonight.

Surrender, he’d said. And then, if I wanted, I could bolt those walls back up tomorrow, no harm, no foul.

But right now?

I was doing what he wanted.