Chapter 4: Heat Of The Unknown.

Riley’s POV

The car ride was too quiet.

Too dark.

Too hot.

I clung to the man beside me like he was the only stable thing in a world that had suddenly started spinning. His suit smelled expensive.

My arms refused to let go.

Fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, cheek pressed to his chest, breathing in his warmth like it was the antidote to the madness.

Something was wrong with me, I wasn’t drunk, but my body… it was on fire.

Every breath felt heavier than the last, each nerve quietly buzzing. His heartbeat was steady at first, strong and almost reassuring. But then it sped up, louder, like maybe he wasn’t so calm after all.

Neither of us said a word.

The silence between us was magnetic. I was melting into him, and I couldn’t explain why. It was like… my body had decided something without asking me first.

We reached the hotel. The doorman barely glanced our way as the private elevator opened, silent and waiting. Inside, the walls gleamed, cool metal and soft gold lights casting long shadows. The ride was smooth, too smooth like we were floating.

The doors slid open to marble floors that stretched endlessly beneath our feet. Chandeliers glowed like fire trapped in glass. Everything shimmered with wealth.

I should have pulled away and run, but for some unknown reasons, I cling to his body, like my life depended on it.

I stumbled forward, his arm firm around my waist, holding me up.

The problem is not the heels or exhaustion.

It was something deeper, crawling under my skin, burning low and hot like a furnace I couldn’t escape.

He opened the suite door.

I stepped inside, and everything snapped, the moment the door clicked shut behind us, my legs gave way and I crashed into him again.

But this time, he did not stop me.

His hands caught me by the waist, the fabric of his suit jacket slipping under my palms as I pushed closer. I could feel him trembling. Just a little, barely, like he was holding back a storm.

I wasn’t sure what I was pleading for, but I heard myself whispering.

“Please…”

“Please what?” His voice was dark, and dangerously low, brushing along my spine.

My fingers clutched his shirt, head tilted, eyes barely open.

“I… don’t know,” I breathed, aching and confused. “Make it stop.”

He growled low in his throat, as if he had been fighting his own restraint for too long.

"I don't think I can," he said with a strained voice.

Please...I moaned out.

And then we crashed.

Mouth to mouth.

Heat to heat.

Like we have both been starved and just discovered what we have been missing.

His hands slid through my hair, cupping the back of my head as his mouth claimed mine, not softly or gently, but with a hunger that made my knees shake.

I kissed him back, desperate, searching, as if something I’d lost was hidden in him.

His body was solid beneath my palms, radiating heat and steady control. But that control was slipping. Quickly.

He pulled me into him like he needed to feel every part of me at once. Like he couldn’t breathe unless we were pressed together.

His jacket hit the floor.

My heels were gone.

Our lips never parted.

My back hit the wall, the bed, and then that hazy place where time slipped and thoughts vanished, lost in the feel of him.

I had felt nothing like this before, this kind of wanting, and being wanted, like we were made for this moment.

His mouth devoured mine, teeth grazing, tongue stealing every sound I didn’t know I was making.

Fingers trailed down bare skin. A moan slipped out before I could stop it.

He froze, just for a second.

Our eyes locked.

His were dark, wild, almost confused, like he wasn’t sure if this was real.

I wasn’t sure either.

But then, everything else faded.

There was only the heat between us, his hands moving over me, my body responding without hesitation.

He tasted like something I should have stayed away from.

I felt like I was unraveling, and together, we lost ourselves in the fire.

***EARLY IN THE MORNING.***

Riley’s POV

The sunlight hit my face first.

My head throbbed, but not from alcohol. No, this was deeper… heavier, everything ached in places I couldn’t quite name and skin tingled like it had been set on fire and doused in silk.

I blinked.

The ceiling wasn't mine, neither were the sheets, rich, crisp, probably Egyptian cotton. The fragrance that still lingered on them was masculine and intoxicating.

Then memories rushed in like a dam had snapped.

The club.

The restroom.

The fire in my blood.

The man whose name I never got… but whose body I knew in the most intimate way possible.

I sat up, the sheet falling from my chest, revealing my round perky bosom and my heart jumped in fright.

He was gone?

Good, because I couldn’t bear to face him, or look into the eyes of a stranger I’d given myself to last night. I don’t know who I was last night, but it wasn’t me.

I spotted something on the table, white, neat, and sharp.

A check.

I got up slowly, pacing across the chilly floor with a knot of dread in my stomach. The robe I was wearing must have been left out for me. I didn’t remember putting it on.

The check glared at me like a slap to the face.

It was blank, without any amount written on it.

Just a signature at the bottom. Michael Gray, and a note.

“You were unforgettable, let’s make this temporary, be my girlfriend for public sake, for a month. Fill in the amount.”

I stared at it.

My breath caught in my throat.

A sick twist of emotions churned in my chest, embarrassment, humiliation, and disbelief.

So this was what I was to him?

An unforgettable… transaction?

He must have thought I was easy. That I had shared his bed for comfort or cash. That I could be bought, like one of those women who lingered around men like him, hoping for scraps of attention and expensive gifts.

Rage began to build in my chest.

I tore the check in half, then again and again, until it was just bits of paper crumpling in my unsteady hands."

The door opened behind me.

I already knew who it was.

His familiar scent said it all.

His voice came low, calm, amused. “Not a fan of money?”

I whipped around, fury blazing in my veins. “You think that night gave you the right to price-tag me?”

He raised a brow, still too infuriatingly calm. “You were the one clinging to me, sweetheart.”

“You touched me first.”

“You begged for it.”

My cheeks flushed, with shame, fury, heat. “Because someone drugged me!”

That wiped the smugness from his face. Just for a second. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.

But I wasn’t done.

I strode across the suite, shoving the torn check against his chest.

“You don’t get to define me by one night. And you sure as hell don’t get to buy me like some prop to parade in front of cameras.”

He caught the torn pieces before they hit the floor.

The room was filled with silence.

I headed for the door, barefoot, broken, but proud.

I looked over my shoulder one last time. “Next time you try to buy someone, Michael Gray… make sure they are actually for sale.”

And with that, I walked out of his suite. Head held high, dignity still intact.

But my heart?

Still beating way too fast for a man I barely knew..