Chapter 5 Chapter 5
NOTHING SOFT ABOUT THIS
TIANA’S POV
The kiss wasn’t soft. Please. Soft was for fairytales, and I was done pretending. It was sharp and messy—an insult to Lucas, to the polished little lie I’d been calling a life. My lips crashed into his like I was daring the night to bite back, all my rage and grief twisted into payback.
And he… met me head-on.
His mouth was fire—whiskey smooth with a sting of mint. He didn’t blink at my aggression; he matched it like he’d been waiting for me to break. One hand claimed my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek in a tease of softness I had no business craving.
The other hand spread across my lower back and dragged me closer until I was pressed to every hard line of him. My breasts ached against his chest, and damn it—I hated how good it felt.
I melted into the heat, into the reckless push and pull of it, clutching his shirt without caring if I ruined it.
When we finally tore apart, breathless in the pulsing lights, it felt like the whole world had shifted. My heart wasn’t shattering anymore—it was pounding, loud and reckless, like it was ready to fight its way out of my chest.
His dark eyes met mine, and he smiled faintly. “Well, hell of an ignition,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me.
A breathless laugh escaped me. “You have no idea what kind of fuel you’re playing with.”
“I’m getting a picture.” His thumb swept the tear track on my cheek—one I hadn’t noticed. The unexpected gentleness tightened my throat. He saw the mess, the ruin… and he wasn’t running.
You're incredible," he murmured something low, but I barely caught it before his lips found my jaw, trailing down to that maddeningly sensitive spot beneath my ear. A soft, humiliating whimper slipped out of me. Great. Just what I needed—him knowing exactly where to touch to make me forget my own name.
His hands slid down my dress, gripping my hips before tugging me firmly against him. The hard ridge pressing into my stomach told me exactly what he was thinking. Heat rolled through me, and my body answered instantly.
My hands grew bolder, sliding up his chest, tracing every hard line under that annoyingly perfect shirt. Of course he had muscles like that—like the universe hadn’t spoiled him enough already. My fingers found the top button, fumbling like I’d suddenly forgotten how clothes worked.
"Let me," he rasped, his own fingers making quick, efficient work of the buttons. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor without a second glance. His chest was taut, and dusted with dark hair, and my breath hitched.
God, he’s beautiful.
He reached for my dress next. The zipper slid down in a slow, dangerous whisper. He eased a strap off my shoulder at a maddening pace, cool air raising goosebumps along my skin.
His gaze dropped to the lace of my bra, then to the rise and fall of my chest.
“You’re shaking.”
“Not from fear.”
His eyes darkened. His hand drifted down my collarbone and lower still, knuckles grazing the swell of my breast. My body lit up. A needy moan slipped out—and he smirked like he owned it. His thumb skimmed over my nipple through the lace, dragging another helpless arch from me.
Every brush, every flick had me burning, my thighs clenching as I held onto his shirt, needing more.
A sharp sound tore from my throat, and his breath ceased instantly. Good, at least I wasn’t the only one losing control. He froze, fingers splayed against my ribs like he was steadying himself.
His other hand caught my face, tilting it up until I had no choice but to look at him. The hunger in his eyes was so raw it almost scared me—almost.
“Hey…” he whispered as his hand slid lower, fingers brushing my stomach, teasing the edge of my waistband.
My breath hitched. He didn’t stop. He slipped right past the waistband of my dress like rules, restraint, and sanity didn’t exist. And honestly? I wasn’t about to remind him.. But then...
both froze at the sudden, sharp rap on the door.
"Occupied!" he barked, his voice rough, not taking his eyes off mine.
A giggle from the other side, then retreating footsteps.
The spell cracked but didn’t shatter. If anything, the tension only sharpened. His eyes locked on mine, asking a question he didn’t need to say out loud, burning with the kind of promise that made my pulse trip. And damn it, I already knew my answer—I was in way too deep to pretend otherwise.
His hand dipped back under my waistband. My knees nearly buckled. A gasp tore out of me as he slipped lower, touching sparking fire across every nerve. I grabbed the doorknob for support.
“You’re playing with fire,” I warned, barely breathing.
“And you’re burning up,” he murmured, fingers sliding inside me.
A soft moan escaped before I could swallow it. His touch was merciless, slow, teasing, devastating. I don't know what to call it anymore. Suddenly, he pulled back just enough to meet my eyes.
“Say it,” he said quietly. “Tell me you want this.”
I hesitated for a second, before responding. “Yes.”
That was all he needed. He spun me around, pressing me to the door. My pants slid to the floor in a messy heap. A shiver raced down my spine at how sure, how unapologetic he was.
I felt the rustle of fabric as he freed himself, his hands gripping my hips before thrusting into me in one deep, powerful movement. A sharp cry escaped me.
Fuck. He was deep, filling me completely as he began to move, each thrust relentless and scorching. Pleasure crashed through me in waves as my fingers clawed at the door, searching for something to anchor me while he pressed against my back, breath hot on my neck.
“Fuck,” he growled. “You feel so good.”
I couldn’t answer, just gasping, and breaking. My legs trembled as he drove me right to the edge until I shattered around him, pulse exploding.
A moment later, his grip tightened and he came with a low groan. For a long moment, we stayed there, breathless, bodies pressed together in the haze of it.
“We’re crazy,” I whispered.
He pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. "Maybe,” he said. “But it’s worth it.”
