A Dangerous Temptation
Weston bent down from his towering height of 6'6, lowering himself to Savannah's level. The intoxicating scent of his cologne wrapped around her, suffocating yet enticing. His lips barely grazed hers, the sensation so light it sent an unexpected jolt down her spine. Her breath caught, and before she could stop herself, her lips parted slightly in shock.
That was all the invitation he needed.
Weston's lips brushed against hers, a slow and deliberate tease, as if he was testing her reaction, savoring the moment. His hands slid down to her waist, gripping her firmly but not forcefully, as if daring her to push him away. Savannah felt her body betray her, her pulse hammering against her ribs, her skin warming beneath his touch.
But this wasn't her. This wasn't Esme.
It had to be the lingering emotions of the old Savannah, the woman who had spent years yearning for a husband who never looked her way. Yet here he was now, looking at her like she was something he had been deprived of for far too long. The intensity of his stare, dark and unreadable, made it impossible to think clearly.
Savannah forced herself to regain control, pressing her palms against his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his tailored suit. She could feel his heart pounding just as fiercely as hers. She pushed, not with all her strength, just enough to create space between them, to remind herself who she was now.
Weston let her, but not before he dragged his lips across her cheek, the slow graze of stubble igniting an unwelcomed shiver through her body. "You're still mine, Savannah," he murmured, his voice a husky promise laced with warning. "And until that divorce is finalized, I intend to remind you of that."
She clenched her jaw, masking the turmoil inside her with a practiced smirk. "Possession doesn't equal affection, Weston," she countered, stepping away entirely. "You had years to want me, and you never did. Don't mistake my indifference for an open invitation."
His eyes flashed with something unreadable—frustration? Amusement? Desire? She didn't wait to find out. Turning on her heel, she strode back into the ballroom, leaving him standing in the cool night air, his fists clenched at his sides.
But even as she disappeared into the crowd, Savannah knew one thing with certainty.
She had played with fire tonight, and Weston Stark was more than ready to burn.
Weston remained frozen on the balcony, his pulse hammering, his body still tense from the brief, intoxicating encounter. He had never expected to feel this way—not toward Savannah Grey. The old Savannah had been meek, obedient, desperate for his attention. He had dismissed her without a second thought, indifferent to her presence. But this Savannah? This Savannah had fire, defiance, and a confidence that both enraged and enthralled him.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides as he exhaled sharply. The way she had looked at him, with amusement rather than yearning, made something primal stir in his chest. It infuriated him. She wasn't supposed to affect him like this. He wasn't supposed to care.
Yet, he did.
The lingering taste of her, the scent of her skin, the way her breath had hitched when he leaned in—it was all imprinted in his mind, refusing to fade. For the first time, Weston Stark felt out of control. And he hated it.
His thoughts warred between frustration and possessiveness. The idea of other men looking at her the way he had tonight sent a sharp flare of irritation through him. The dress she wore, the way it clung to her, the confidence in her steps—she had been turning heads all night, and that thought alone unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Weston had spent years never giving her a second glance, but now, the idea of anyone else touching her made his blood boil. He had thrown her away once, convinced she was insignificant. But now, the tables had turned, and he was the one left chasing.
Grinding his teeth, he pushed himself away from the railing and strode back into the ballroom, his eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto Savannah once more. She was laughing at something another man said, her lips curling in that damnable smirk that had begun haunting his thoughts.
His jaw ticked. No. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
Pulling out his phone, Weston pressed a button and lifted it to his ear. His voice was clipped, controlled. "Delay the divorce papers. File them in the company safe. No one touches them without my authorization."
"Understood, sir," his trusted secretary replied without hesitation.
Weston ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket. Divorce? Not yet. Not when she was slipping through his fingers like sand. Not when every instinct in his body screamed to claim what was his.
He adjusted his cufflinks and straightened his tie before stepping back into the grand ballroom. The soft hum of classical music mixed with murmured conversations, but his focus remained singular. Savannah.
She stood in the center of attention, her posture regal, her smile effortless. He watched as she engaged in polite conversation, her laughter light, her presence radiant. And every time another man dared to get too close, a spark of irritation ignited in his chest.
His gaze darkened. If Savannah thought she could walk away so easily, she was sorely mistaken.
Tonight was just the beginning.
Pulling out his phone, Weston pressed a button and lifted it to his ear. His voice was clipped, controlled. "Delay the divorce papers. File them in the company safe. No one touches them without my authorization."
"Understood, sir," his trusted secretary replied without hesitation.
Weston ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket. Divorce? Not yet. Not when she was slipping through his fingers like sand. Not when every instinct in his body screamed to claim what was his.
He adjusted his cufflinks and straightened his tie before stepping back into the grand ballroom. The soft hum of classical music mixed with murmured conversations, but his focus remained singular. Savannah.
She stood in the center of attention, her posture regal, her smile effortless. He watched as she engaged in polite conversation, her laughter light, her presence radiant. And every time another man dared to get too close, a spark of irritation ignited in his chest.
His gaze darkened. If Savannah thought she could walk away so easily, she was sorely mistaken.
Tonight was just the beginning.