Page 49 of Shattered by Grace (The Locke Empire Duet #1)

His smile deepened, something in his eyes flickering at her words. “It’s the least I could do,” he replied, his tone low, smooth. Almost like he was savoring the moment just as much as she was.

She picked up her fork, the tension still thick between them, but the warmth of the food was enough to draw her in. She took the first bite, and her eyes closed involuntarily at how good it was. Simple, but comforting. Her stomach didn’t just appreciate it, it reveled in it.

When she opened her eyes again, Tristan was watching her, that same quiet intensity lingering between them.

“Good?” he asked, his voice softer than before, a genuine curiosity there.

Victoria nodded, taking another bite, unable to hide the smile that tugged at her lips. “It’s perfect,” she said, and for a moment, all the noise in her head quieted.

After Tristan finished his bowl, he pushed it aside, his gaze never leaving her. He sat back slightly, leaning against the counter, and just watched her.

“What?” Victoria asked, her voice a little too sharp, feeling the heat of his stare settle over her skin. Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but fidget under his intense gaze.

“Nothing,” Tristan replied, a slow, teasing smirk creeping across his face. “Just... you have sauce right here.”

Victoria froze, her fingers halting mid-air before she could reach for the napkin. But before the words even fully registered, Tristan moved. His hand reached out, so effortlessly graceful, and in one smooth motion, he touched her face.

The softness of his fingers, just brushing the corner of her lips, was enough to send a wave of heat through her.

He was tender, almost careful, but there was something about the way he touched her that made every nerve in her body hum with anticipation.

It wasn’t just a gesture of cleaning her up. It felt... smoldering.

Before she could react, the storm outside raged harder. The lights flickered once, then completely cut out, plunging them into darkness.

Victoria blinked, a slight laugh escaping her lips. “Great. Of course, the power goes out now.” She didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or amused.

But Tristan wasn’t fazed. He stood up, his eyes glimmering even in the low light of the candles still flickering on the counter. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice rich and smooth like melted chocolate.

“Right now? The power’s out, and the music’s gone,” Victoria responded, her heart pounding in her chest.

Tristan didn’t respond with words, only with a soft, knowing smile. He grabbed her hand, his fingers warm against her skin as he pulled her from the stool.

She didn’t resist, letting him guide her effortlessly toward the center of the room.

The candles cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the intensity in his eyes.

She could see every line, every subtle shift in his expression as he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Then, he began to hum a familiar, slow melody that wrapped around her, pulling her deeper into the moment.

Her chest tightened, the sound of his voice a quiet, soothing comfort in the otherwise still room. Without another word, Tristan began to move, pulling her into a slow dance. His hands rested on her waist, and she instinctively placed hers on his chest, the closeness making her breath catch.

Victoria’s body swayed with him, and she realized, in that moment, that he wasn’t just moving to the rhythm.

He was leading her in a dance that felt intimate, timeless.

His movements were deliberate but fluid, controlled but not stiff.

Almost like he’d been taught, like he’d spent hours perfecting this. And it was all so... sensual.

The soft flicker of the candlelight, the hum of his voice, and the way his body moved against hers—it was like everything in the world had fallen away. It was just the two of them, wrapped up in the moment, the storm outside forgotten.

For the first time, the control Tristan held over the situation felt effortless, the tension between them building with every step, every small touch of his hand on her waist, every breath they shared.

Victoria felt the world tilt, her heart racing, her thoughts scattered. She wasn’t sure if it was the storm outside or the storm Tristan was stirring inside her. Either way, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to leave.

The backup generator clicked on, the faint hum of power returning to the house, but the moment between them didn’t change.

The lights didn’t fully illuminate the room, leaving them in the soft, shadowed glow of the candles as they swayed with the gentle flicker.

Tristan’s humming was still the only sound, his breath steady, his hands guiding her through the rhythm of the dance.

Victoria rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his movements, and the comfort of his presence wash over her.

She stayed there, her breath slowing, her heartbeat syncing with his, just savoring the perfect stillness of the moment.

She didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to break the quiet intimacy between them.

But eventually, reality tugged at her. Her mind went back to everything—the gym, the fight, the chaos of the day. The storm outside might’ve been calming down, but the storm inside her head wasn’t as forgiving.

Victoria pulled away, her fingers lingering on his chest before she fully disconnected, feeling the cool rush of air between them. “I’ve had a long day,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. “And I’m tired.”

Tristan didn’t try to stop her, didn’t protest as she stepped back, but his gaze never left her. His hand dropped to his side, and she could feel the weight of his eyes on her, even in the dimness of the room.

She walked toward the couch, her steps slow and deliberate, but just as she reached it, Tristan’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm gently but with enough force to stop her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, steady, but with an edge of something unreadable.

Victoria turned to face him, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m going to sleep, Tristan.”

His jaw tightened, the shadows in the room flickering across his face, but there was something in his eyes that softened the moment. “Not there,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “You sleep in my bed.”

Victoria blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Where are you going to sleep?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tristan’s lips quirked up slightly, but there was no humor in the expression. “With you.”