Page 14 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

His grip tightened just enough to make her pulse stutter. His lips brushed close to her ear, his voice low, smug.

“Why do you tease me?”

A slow, lazy roll of her hips brought her flush against him, his body a wall of heat and muscle that set her nerves alight. His grip tightened, pulling her in, molding her against him like she belonged there, like he had every right to claim her.

And she let him.

She should push him away, remind herself of all the reasons she needed to stay far, far away from him. But right now, she didn’t care.

Right now, she wanted to feel.

His hands roamed lower, skimming the curve of her hips, tracing the line of her dress as if he were mapping out exactly how little space remained between them. The music shifted, darker, dirtier, a sound that pulsed with the same reckless energy thrumming beneath her skin.

Tristan matched it effortlessly.

His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, "You keep moving like that, and I won’t be able to stop."

A delicious shiver ran down her spine, her body betraying her as she pressed back against him, pushing the limit just to see how far she could take this. His fingers dug into her hips in warning, but she only smirked, dragging her nails lightly down the back of his hand, taunting him.

His answer came in the form of a slow, deliberate grind, his hips rolling against hers, his body keeping perfect rhythm with hers, every movement a promise of what could come next.

Heat pooled low in her stomach, need coiling tightly inside her. She turned in his arms, their faces inches apart now, her breath mixing with his. His gaze was dark, heavy-lidded, his pupils blown with something just as dangerous as it was intoxicating.

He wanted her.

And God, she wanted him, too.

For one reckless moment, nothing else mattered. Not the danger, not the warnings in the back of her mind, not the fact that getting close to him would ruin her.

All that mattered was the way he looked at her like he was ready to devour her whole.

She licked her lips, and his gaze flicked down, following the motion.

“Tristan,” she whispered, a challenge, a confession.

He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening just as he leaned in.

“Yo, Tristan! Your father wants you, Now!”

The sharp voice cut through the music like a blade, and a hand clamped down on Tristan’s shoulder, yanking him away from her. The sudden loss of his touch felt like a slap of cold reality, the heat between them snuffed out in an instant.

She wanted to kick someone’s ass for the massive cock-block.

Victoria blinked, her pulse still thrumming from the way their bodies had moved together, from the way she’d let herself drown in him. Now, all of it was shattered.

Jaw clenched, Tristan turned slowly, shoulders squared, exuding a lethal calm. Whoever had dared to interrupt was about to regret it.

Victoria could feel the shift, like the calm before a storm.

She took a cautious peek over Tristan’s shoulder, and her heart nearly stopped. Framed by the strobe lights stood a ghost from her past. Justin.

No. It can’t be.

The boy next door. The best friend she lost years ago. Only now, he was nothing like the kid she remembered.

Her breath hitched as she tried to pull away, but Tristan’s grip was unyielding, his fingers like iron around her wrist. Panic surged, making it harder to think clearly.

Her mind screamed for her to move, to get away, but her body betrayed her, rooted to the spot as she searched the crowd frantically.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” Tristan’s voice was low, the sharp edge of concern creeping through the roughness. His hand tightened around her arm, preventing her escape.

Victoria’s heart raced, her eyes darting to the flashing lights, trying to spot a familiar face, anything that could anchor her in this whirlwind of anxiety.

But all she saw was Justin, standing just on the edge of her line of sight, and the weight of recognition looming closer with every passing second.

Victoria rubbed her forehead, trying to clear the sudden fog of confusion and fear. Seeing her childhood friend with the Lockes, the very family that ruined hers, sent her mind spiraling. “I… I need to find Taylor,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze. “I shouldn’t be doing this with you.”

“Mr. Locke.” Justin’s unfamiliar voice cut through again.

Tristan’s expression darkened, ignoring the summons again, his grip firm but not forceful. “Why not?” he asked, his voice low, dangerous. “You seemed pretty into it a minute ago.”

“It’s complicated, Tristan.” She rubbed her forehead as a tension headache threatened to take hold.

His smirk was slow and knowing. Leaning in, his lips brushed her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Complicated?” he purred, his voice laced with dark amusement. “That’s a nice way to put it. But let’s be honest, Grace—complicated’s just another word for tempting.”

He pulled her even closer, the heat of his body seeping into hers, his fingers brushing dangerously close to the edge of control. His predatory gaze burned into hers. “You can fight it all you want,” he murmured, “but we both know how this ends. The question is, when are you finally giving in?”

He slammed his mouth on hers, capturing her lips without hesitation.

The kiss was nothing like she could have prepared for.

His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against hers with an exquisite slowness that unraveled every defense she had.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a possession, full, lush, and all-consuming.

He tasted like every wicked temptation she’d ever craved but knew she shouldn’t indulge in. Dark, addictive, and oh so dangerous.

Her mind screamed for control, her instincts warring against the pull he had over her. Victoria! she screamed at herself internally, breaking the spell. With a gasp, she pulled back, her chest heaving. “I… I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling as reality came crashing back in.

Now, he knew. She knew he understood. He had her.