Page 13

Chapter thirteen

~IRENE~

I’m trapped, pinned beneath something solid. Overwhelming.

I know it’s him, even before I see him.

Ares.

His body presses me down, his hands lock my wrists above my head, his scent suffocates me—soap, dark spice, a hint of smoke.

I try to move, but it’s useless. He’s too strong, too big, too unforgiving. A low chuckle brushes against my ear, a rough, taunting vibration that sinks straight into my bones.

“You’re not as sweet as you pretend to be.” His voice is deep. It’s wrapping around me like chains, like something I’ll never escape.

A shiver racks through me. My thighs press together, but he’s already there.

“So sensitive.” His breath ghosts over my jaw, warm, teasing.

I suck in a sharp breath as he shifts against me, the hard lines of his body pressing everywhere, his weight pinning me down, making me feel helpless. His lips graze my throat. A broken sound slips out of me.

“You think I can make you come just like this?” His voice is a low, making my entire body burn.

I can’t see anything else but his pale eyes beneath dark brows, a few strands of black hair falling over them. His hand moves slowly down my arm, over my ribs, across my stomach, between my legs.

A sharp gasp rips from my throat as his fingers press against my panties. My body shakes, my breath stalling in my chest. His fingers stroke, just once.

And I wake up.

My own voice jolts me—a soft, breathless moan. My chest heaves, my skin burns, and my legs tangled in the sheets. The air in my hotel room is thick, too hot, sticking to my skin. The room is darker now, the sun long set.

For a second, I don’t know where I am. Then I do. I blink fast. My stomach is tight, my pulse slamming against my ribs. My thighs clench together, but it does nothing to stop the ache, the pulse, the raw, devastating heat still licking through my body.

I dreamt about him. Again. And I’ve just moaned out loud.

My stomach drops as I clamp a hand over my mouth, my eyes darting toward the wall.

Oh, God. Did he hear? I asked Livia this morning, and she told me his room is right next to mine.I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath, too loud in the silence.

If Ares Black heard me moaning his name in my sleep…

I’ll never survive it.

The lobby is buzzing with energy. The team is already gathered, drinks in hand, low laughter and conversation drifting through the space.

I spot Rowan and Livia near the entrance.

I head toward them, trying to focus, trying to blend into the conversation. I pretend I don’t feel the weight pressing against my chest. I pretend I’m not searching for him.

Livia’s eyes light up the second she sees me.

“Damn, girl,” she whistles, dragging her gaze down my dress, a grin curling her lips. “You look hot as hell tonight.”

“Thank you.” I smile, ignoring the way my stomach tightens. “You clean up nicely, too,” I add with a wave of my hand. And it’s true. Livia’s dressed in a red one-piece that matches her lips. Her caramel-blonde hair is pulled into an elegant ponytail, and Rowan, next to her, has a black polo with red details to match her dress. You have to be blind not to see how in love he is.

“You ready for the club?” Livia asks, nudging my arm. “You want a drink while we wait for the rest of the guys?”

“Please,” I say, nodding. Anything to keep my hands busy, anything to give me something to focus on besides the ache still lingering in my body.

“I got you,” Livia says, already turning toward the bar with Rowan’s eyes following her before turning to me.

She disappears into the crowd, and before I can take another breath, Rowan leans in.

“He’s not here yet.” His voice is low, just for me.

“Who?” I blink, looking up at him, pulse kicking.

Rowan smirks and gives me a knowing look. Heat creeps up my neck, embarrassment blooming fast. I open my mouth to deny it—to toss out some casual deflection—but nothing comes out. I clamp my lips shut and say nothing.

A beat later, Livia’s back, sliding a drink into my hand like she didn’t just save me from completely outing myself.

“Here, babe.” She grins. “Try not to chug it too fast.”

I let out a forced laugh, taking a sip, my hand tight around the glass. But Rowan is still watching me, still smirking. Then he tips his chin toward the elevators.

The back of my neck prickles. A slow, invisible force coils around my body, sinking into my skin. A sharp, hot pressure spreads through my stomach.

I swallow hard, but my throat is dry.

I turn, and that’s when I see him stepping out of the elevator.

Ares .

Dressed in all black. A fitted black shirt clings to his chest and arms, the top few buttons undone like a warning. Dark jeans hang low on his hips, and polished boots hit the floor with slow, deliberate weight. Tattoos snake from beneath his sleeves, teasing up his neck, and with that chiseled jaw and eyes full of storm, he looks less like a man—and more like a reckoning.

Something inside me clenches at the sight of him. He looks like sin. Like violence. Like temptation wrapped in heat. And when I finally risk looking up, his eyes are already on me—focused, and burning. A slow, dark current crackles between us, invisible but undeniable.

My pulse hammers.

I just dreamt of him. Of his weight, pinning me down, his voice in my ear, his hands. Heat prickles up my neck, mortification burning beneath my skin.

My throat bobs as I take a slow sip of my drink, forcing my face into something neutral. I feel his gaze slide over me, a burning imprint against my skin.

I shift on my feet, my thighs clenching because my body remembers it too well.

And now, he’s standing right here. Real, solid, and so dangerously close.

And the way he’s looking at me, it’s like he knows.

I shift closer to Livia, clearing my throat.

Distract yourself.

“You excited?” She smiles at me, adjusting the strap of her clutch.

“I don’t go out much.” I snort, shaking my head.

“You should.” She nudges me playfully. “This team can be a lot, but they know how to party.”

“It already feels like chaos.” I glance around.

Livia sighs dramatically, waving a hand toward Langley, who’s already gathering attention from a few lingering ladies at the bar. “Exhibit A.”

“Does he ever stop?” I laugh, covering my mouth.

“Not unless he’s unconscious.” She shakes her head. “Excuse me for a moment. I have to check who hasn’t come down yet.”

I open my mouth to stop her, but she’s already moving. For a moment, I’m alone with my drink. Until a heat presses against my back, a presence so overwhelming that I stop breathing.

“Who knew the walls of this hotel are so thin?” Ares’ voice is right against my ear.

He heard.

Every molecule in my body freezes. My lips part, but no sound comes out as my fingers clench around my glass. He didn’t just say that. He didn’t just confirm what I was terrified of.

My stomach drops, yet heat pools between my legs so fast I feel lightheaded.

I stare ahead, eyes wide and heart hammering.

He heard me. He heard everything.

“Okay!” Livia’s voice comes from my left. “It seems like everyone’s ready to go!”

Ares steps around me until he’s standing to my left. I don’t look at him, but I can still see him from the corner of my eye. And then I see his lips stretch slowly. Not a normal smile. It’s a slow, sharp smirk, steeling another piece of me and pocketed it like a trophy.

I swallow hard and suck in a breath. But I already know I won’t survive the night unless I get it together.

***.

The club is loud and dark. Music pounds from the speakers, the bass vibrating through the floors, through my chest. Neon lights flash against the ceiling, cutting through the thick, hazy air.

We step up the stairs into VIP lounge, where a roped-off section is already set up—booths, bottles, and security blocking off the area from the rest of the club.

The team walks in like they own the place. Ares, Rowan, and Damien are already heading toward the private bar, the rest of the team trailing behind. Livia slips into one of the booths, stretching an arm along the backrest as if she’s about to hold court.

The bartender slides a glass toward Ares as I make my way to the other side of it, where the second bartender greets me. I quickly order a mojito and turn to face the guys, who are already popping bottles. Stone is walking up the stairs with a group of women, all giggling and talking as they trail after him.

Ares doesn’t sit and doesn’t laugh. He just stands there, watching the room, brooding and detached. The moment security lets Stone in along with his entourage, it starts. I have never seen something like this. The women split up, circling the whole team like they’re about to steal their lunch money.

They stay away from Damien and Rowan, but the rest of the guys are being swarmed. I don’t want to look; I know I shouldn’t. But before I can stop myself, my head turns in Ares’ direction just in time to see three women walking toward him. They descend on him like moths to a flame. Hands brush his arms, and fingers trail his chest. Loud, giggling voices reach my ears above the music.

And Ares does nothing. He doesn’t encourage them, doesn’t pull them closer, doesn’t flirt back. But doesn’t pull away from either.

And I don’t like it. I don’t like watching it. I don’t like seeing their hands on him. I don’t like knowing that this happens all the time. I don’t like thinking about how many times he’s let it happen, how many women have felt their hands on him just like I have. The thought alone is enough for my chest to tighten painful.

I grab my drink, trying to ignore it, trying to focus on anything else, but my stomach twists.

Get a grip.

I turn away, adjusting my dress and forcing myself to look unbothered. Then a gorgeous brunette cuts through the crowd like a heat-seeking missile—straight to Ares. She slides in close, plants a hand on his chest, tips her head up to say something. He doesn’t smile back, but he leans in, jaw tight, to catch whatever she’s saying. His brows pinch as he straightens, frowning down at her—right before she tosses her head back and laughs like she just won a prize.

I can’t watch this. My stomach is hot and tight. A feeling I don’t recognize, don’t know how to handle, don’t know how to suppress. So, I do the only thing I can.

I say screw him, stand up, and walk out of the VIP area, my mojito long forgotten.

I push through the bodies, my pulse pounding in my ears, fast and erratic. Bodies move around me, neon lights flashing over bare skin and low-cut dresses. I head straight for the big bar in the center by the dance floor, weaving through the chaos. I need a stronger drink, something to cool the fire in my veins.

I slide onto a stool and press my palms against the counter.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” The bartender notices me immediately, stepping closer.

“A shot of tequila. On the Panthers’ tab.” I point toward the VIP area where I just came from, expecting the bartender to argue, but he just nods.

A deep chuckle sounds beside me. I glance up to see a man take the seat beside mine. He’s tall, blond, and ken-doll perfect with a charming boy-next-door smile.

Soft hands, no scars. The kind of guy who never raises his voice—or your pulse.

A guy who looks safe.

A guy who looks nothing like Ares.

He leans in slightly. “What’s a beautiful girl like you doing drinking alone?”

“I’m not alone,” I tell him, watching the man behind the bar pour my shot.

“Well, now you’re definitely not.” Ken smirks.

The bartender drops a shot in front of me. I grab the glass, swallowing it down in one go, the heat burning my throat.

“You look like you need another one.” Ken grins.

I force a small smile. “That obvious?”

“Little bit.” He laughs, his dimples on full display. He leans in a little more, casually, but I know he’s done this a million times before. “Come on, let me get you a drink.”

I hesitate, just for a second. And that’s when I feel it. A force so strong I don’t even have to look up to know.

My breath stalls, and my skin prickles. And when I finally lift my eyes and look up, Ares is staring right back at me.

He looks ready to kill. His gaze is locked on me, hard and cruel, a laser through the neon haze of the club.

I don’t know how long he’s been looking. But I know what that look means. It’s a silent warning.

Don’t you fucking dare.

My pulse skips, and my stomach twists as every instinct in my body tells me to listen, to get up, walk away from Ken, and go back up to the lounge.

But then I remember why I came here in the first place. I remember the women, the way they touched him, giggling and flirting, ready for a chance. Like he’s up for grabs.

Fine. If he has his fun, I’ll have mine. With one last lingering look, I turn back to Ken and smile.

“That would be great, thank you.”

If he can play this game, so can I.