*Isabella's POV*
"You told me not to touch you, remember?" Jacob's voice was a husky murmur against the shell of my ear, sending an electrifying shiver cascading down my spine. "But if you keep looking at me and dancing like that, Miss Williams, I won't be able to contain myself much longer."
"Please, don't contain yourself," I replied, my tone dripping with flirtation. "Dance with me."
With a daring flick of my wrist, my fingers brushed the button of his shirt, the fabric warm beneath my touch. The intoxicating blend of his proximity and the heady influence of the evening's libations instilled a boldness in me I had never known before.
As the night unfurled, it became a torturous battle of wills, a dance laden with unspoken desires. I turned to face him fully, daring him to hold my gaze. "Isabella..." he breathed, my name a soft plea on his lips, each syllable igniting the air between us. The world around us faded into a blur, our connection pulsing with an undeniable tension, poised on the precipice of something singular and electrifying.
"Kiss! Just kiss already!" Elly's voice sliced through the charged atmosphere, breaking the spell woven between Jacob and me. I had completely forgotten about her presence amidst the fiery connection we had ignited that evening. "It's been torture watching you two," she added, her exasperation mingling with amusement.
In the fevered dance of passion that Jacob and I had lost ourselves in, the world beyond had faded away, and we had unwittingly left our friend to bear witness. My head spun with thoughts of how long the night had stretched, the allure of intimacy gently tugging at my resolve.
"It's been a long day. I just want to get back to the hotel," I finally conceded, the reality of our surroundings crashing back in. "Yeah, time to call it a night," Jacob echoed, his voice steady, yet laced with a hint of reluctance.
"Let's go then," Elly chimed, her enthusiasm unyielding despite the tension still threading through the air. With that, we began our exit from the club, the pulsing beats fading behind us as we stepped into the cool night, leaving behind a world brimming with untold possibilities.
As we hopped into the limo, Elly took the driver's seat and, almost surprisingly, decided to be helpful for once by closing the partition window between us and the front. Instantly, the atmosphere shifted, cloaking us in a bubble of intimacy.
But Jacob's demeanor had changed completely since our dirty dance in the club. Now, as he scrolled through his phone, completely absorbed in whatever message had captured his attention, he positioned his whole body away from me—a stark contrast to the electric heat we'd shared just moments before.
I sat beside him, a ticking time bomb of desire, the dim light of the limo casting shadows across his chiseled features. He looked almost vulnerable, like prey caught in the crosshairs of my undying hunger. Every pulse of my racing heartbeat reminded me of just how much I craved him, how desperately I yearned to bridge the chasm of his retreat. And nothing is going to stop me.
I inched closer, the air thick with unspoken anticipation. He dropped his phone, the clatter echoing in the confined space, and I was poised to claim his mouth, ready to ignite the fire that had been simmering all night. But before I could, he stopped me.
"Isabella, stop." My advance faltered, and I pulled back slightly, a bewildered "Excuse me?" escaping my lips.
"You're torturing me," he replied, his voice a low groan.
"I am torturing *you*?" I retorted, the words laced with disbelief. "I'm not the one being hot and cold here. If anything, I'm in flames."
A slow smile spread across his face. "Believe me, sweetness, the feeling is mutual." He leaned his body ever so slightly into mine, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through me. "But trust me on this," he murmured, his gaze locked on mine. "We've both had one too many drinks. If I'm going to take that gorgeous mouth of yours, it will be when we're both sober, so I can make the best of it."
Anger and frustration bubbled beneath my skin, hot and relentless. So what if I was drunk? That was the best time to do this—no inhibitions, no shame. Who cared if I didn't remember? I didn't want to remember having sex with my boss's brother. Just the thought made my stomach churn with a mixture of defiance and desire.
"We are here, Isabella," Elly's voice cut sharply through my swirling thoughts, pulling me back to the present. "At the hotel."
Fucking hell. I had humiliated myself enough for one night. My legs felt heavy as I stepped out of the limo, my mind a jumble of conflicting feelings—embarrassment, longing, anger. Without a word, I straightened my shoulders and forced my voice to stay steady. "Goodbye, sir," I muttered, my tone clipped as I made my way to my hotel room, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Maybe I'd had one too many drinks. I thought bitterly as I finally flopped onto the bed, the weight of the night crashing down on me. My mind was a whirlwind of chaos—regret, desire, and the overwhelming need to forget it all. But even as sleep beckoned, I knew this night would linger in my mind, stubborn and unyielding.
*the next day*
I woke to the faint hum of my phone vibrating beneath the sheets, jarring me from a restless sleep. Groggy, I reached over and grabbed it, blinking at the screen. Good morning, Isabella, Damien's message began. "Come around to my room at noon so we can go over the presentation. Take your time."
I hesitated, then slowly tossed the phone aside. Sitting up, I grimaced at the smell clinging to me—no doubt from last night's reckless night. I dragged myself into the bathroom, indulging in a long, hot shower to wash away the lingering haze. When I stepped out, I carefully chose my outfit: a red and white painted skirt that hugged my hips, a white shirt that accentuated my cleavage, and a pair of sleek black heels to match.
"Better," I murmured with a small smile, admiring my reflection before heading to Damien's door. We dove straight into work, skipping the usual pleasantries. But beneath the surface, I felt a strange, guilty weight. After the fiery night I'd shared with Jacob, Damien—the Ice King—remained untouched, untouchable. His twin, on the other hand, was all over me, his touch lingering in my mind like a forbidden secret. Damien exuded a commanding presence—respectful, powerful, composed. It was like a dream, the way he had grazed my cheek last week in his office, softly asking that question that still echoed in my mind. We'd brushed it off, as if it had never happened, yet I'd be lying if I said I hadn't imagined a hundred scenarios with him—on his desk, in his office, anywhere.
As much as I admired him professionally, as much as I loved working with him, there was something about his male dominance that made my pulse race, making me zone out during work hours, lost in thoughts I shouldn't entertain.