Chapter 11

She shouldn't have come back so soon.

Should have given herself time.

Should have let herself breathe—to forget the way his hands had felt on her skin, the way his body had moved against hers, the way he had completely ruined her.

But she didn't.

She came back.

Because she couldn't stay away.

And the moment she stepped into the penthouse, the moment she saw him sitting there—waiting, watching her like he knew exactly why she had returned—

Her resolve shattered all over again.

He didn't say anything at first.

Didn't smirk. Didn't tease.

Just looked at her.

Dark green eyes dragging over her like they could see through her clothes, through her thoughts, through her pathetic attempts to act normal.

And then—

He crooked a finger.

A silent command.

She moved before she could think, her feet carrying her toward him, her chest tight with anticipation, her breath already uneven.

And when she reached him, when she stood between his knees, when his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto his lap—

She didn't resist.

Didn't hesitate.

Didn't even try to fight it.

She just melted into him.

His lips crashed against hers, hot, demanding, all-consuming, his fingers digging into her waist, pressing her flush against him.

A sharp gasp left her as she felt it—him, thick and heavy beneath her, separated only by their clothes, the reminder of what they had done, of how deeply he had already claimed her.

He took his time, devouring her slowly, teasingly, his mouth moving possessively over hers, like he was proving a point.

Like he was reminding her that she belonged to him now.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, nails clawing at his chest, her body burning too hot, too fast.

Then his teeth—

A sharp nip to her bottom lip, sending a violent pulse of heat straight between her legs.

She moaned into his mouth, her hips rocking instinctively, chasing the friction she already knew was too good—

And he felt it too.

His hands tightened, his chest rising with a slow, ragged inhale, his grip forcing her to stay still.

"Impatient," he murmured against her lips, the smirk in his voice unmistakable.

Her cheeks flamed, her pulse hammering, but before she could snap back, his lips found her neck, tracing hot, wet kisses along her skin, his breath fanning over her throat—

And she broke.

Her head fell back, her lips parting in a sharp inhale, her entire body surrendering to him once again.

Because there was no escaping this.

No escaping him.

And God help her—

She didn't want to.

At first, the job had been boring.

Simple. Predictable. Just another obligation, just another way to pay her debts.

But now—

Now, the hours were filled with something else entirely.

Something that burned through her veins.

Something that made her wake up wanting more.

The mundane moments of her day—bringing him his meals, checking his vitals, cleaning up the penthouse—had all been transformed.

Because now, every glance between them carried a promise.

Every touch—accidental or not—made her pulse race.

And every moment alone together?

It always ended the same way.

With his hands on her body.

With her lips on his.

With her body pressed against him, melting into him, letting him take everything she had to give.

Because this was so much more than just a job now.

It was heaven.

Her own, personal heaven wrapped in sin.

A place where time didn't matter, where their bodies did all the talking, where she could lose herself completely in the heat of him.

Where she could spend the hours moaning his name, her skin burning under his touch, her body arching for him, surrendering to him, again and again and again.

Because when he had her like this—when he pulled her onto his lap, when he kissed her breathless, when he whispered filthy, possessive things against her ear—

She forgot everything else.

Forgot the outside world.

Forgot that this had once been just work.

Forgot that it wouldn't last forever.

And for now—

That was enough.

She had seen luxury before.

Working in this penthouse, surrounded by wealth, she had witnessed extravagance—but nothing had prepared her for this.

The private jet.

The sleek black aircraft, polished and gleaming, waiting for them like a personal chariot to paradise.

She had hesitated at first, standing at the bottom of the steps, staring at him as he sat in his wheelchair, completely unbothered.

"You're acting like you've never flown before," he smirked, watching her.

She swallowed. "Not in a jet."

He just raised a brow and nodded toward the open door. "Then it's about time."

And just like that, she was stepping inside—into a world she didn't belong in, into a plane that smelled of leather and money and him.

The seats were massive, the windows large enough to see the endless stretch of blue sky. A steward was already waiting, offering drinks, food—anything they wanted.

She sat beside him, still in awe, fingers gripping the soft leather of her armrest as the jet lifted off.

And the whole time—he watched her.

Like he was amused by how easily she was impressed.

Like he was enjoying every second of pulling her deeper into his world.

The Island Resort

The jet ride was one thing.

But the moment they landed, the moment she stepped off and saw the island—

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was unreal.

Pristine white sands stretched endlessly before them, the turquoise waters so clear they looked painted, the private villas tucked between lush green palms, secluded and untouched.

"This is yours?" she asked, her voice almost in disbelief.

He barely glanced at their surroundings as the staff welcomed them, bowing, addressing him by name, treating him like a king.

"It's my getaway," he said simply. "One of them."

Her stomach flipped.

One of them?

How much wealth did this man actually have?

But she didn't have time to dwell on that, because the next thing she knew, they were being led to their villa—

And it was breathtaking.

A massive beachfront paradise, the infinity pool spilling into the ocean view, the open-air design letting in the salty breeze.

Her bags were already placed inside the bedroom—the massive, ridiculously lavish bedroom with a bed that looked like it could swallow her whole.

She turned to him, realization dawning.

"There's only one bed."

He smirked, rolling forward, completely unfazed.

"You think I brought you all the way here to sleep alone?"

Her pulse jumped, her skin already heating—because she knew exactly what that meant.

Exactly what was going to happen in this villa.

Exactly how little rest she'd be getting.

And as she stood there, heart pounding, watching him with that knowing look in his eyes—

She realized one thing.

This vacation was about to ruin her completely.

The day was peaceful.

Soft breezes, golden sun spilling across the sand, waves crashing lazily against the shore.

She spent the morning exploring, her feet sinking into the warm white sand, the salty air refreshing.

He watched her from their private cabana, lounging in one of the luxurious chairs, a drink in hand, sunglasses shielding his piercing green eyes.

She was careful not to let her mind wander.

Not to think about what had happened between them.

Not to let herself acknowledge the heat lingering beneath her skin, the ache between her thighs that hadn't left since they'd arrived.

She pretended everything was normal.

And he let her.

They had lunch by the ocean, talked about nothing important, pretended that they weren't counting down the hours until nightfall.

But beneath the surface, beneath the calm, there was tension.

A waiting game.

Because the moment the sun dipped below the horizon—

Everything changed.

The Night: Burning in Lust

She didn't know who moved first.

Maybe it was her.

Maybe it was him.

Maybe it was inevitable.

Because the second they stepped into the bedroom, the second the door closed behind them, the second the cool night air wrapped around their heated bodies—

They lost control.

His hands were on her, pulling her onto his lap, his mouth claiming hers in a deep, possessive kiss.

She felt him, hard beneath her, pressing against her already soaked core, making her moan into his lips.

She had the power here.

She was the one in control.

Because he couldn't move the way he wanted.

He couldn't pin her down, couldn't flip her over, couldn't take her with reckless abandon.

So she had to do it for him.

She rolled her hips, slow, teasing, making him groan as his grip tightened on her waist.

"Don't tease me," he warned, voice low, rough, his eyes blazing with frustration and hunger.

She smirked, knowing she had him.

"Or what?" she whispered against his lips.

His fingers dug into her skin, his breath ragged, his body straining against its limitations.

And that's when she gave in.

She rode him, taking control, guiding the pace, using him as he had once let her use him in secret.

Her hands pressed against his broad chest, nails dragging down his skin as she moved faster, harder, making them both lose themselves in the heat.

His head tipped back, his jaw clenched, his body tightening beneath her, his deep groans pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

And when she finally broke, when she shattered around him, screaming his name, shaking in his arms—

She knew.

She was never leaving this island the same.