Amber couldn't sleep.
Not after the club. Not after the lake. And definitely not after Nathan Cross.
She paced her small bedroom in the estate's guest wing, her heart still thudding from the memory of his voice, his touch, that single drop of silver fire on her lips. She hadn't even kissed him, but it felt like she had been branded.
What the hell was she doing?
A soft knock pulled her out of her spiral. She froze.
Another knock. Slower. More deliberate.
Amber moved to the door, pulse rising. She didn't need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Somehow, she already knew.
She opened it—and there he was.
Nathan leaned against the frame, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his chest kissed by moonlight. His hair was slightly damp again, like he'd just taken another midnight dip. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and unreadable.
"You left in a hurry," he said, voice quiet. Low. Dangerous.
Amber tried to breathe evenly. "I had to. That… whatever that was—it was too much."
He stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her breath caught.
"But you liked it," he said. "Didn't you?"
Her silence answered him. He took another step, close enough now that his scent wrapped around her—clean, warm, masculine. Her body betrayed her, leaning into his heat without permission.
"I don't do this," she whispered. "I'm not… like other girls."
Nathan tilted his head. "Good. I don't want other girls."
His fingers found the edge of her robe, still tied tightly around her waist. He didn't pull, didn't rush. Just traced the silk knot with slow, devastating precision.
"I should go," she breathed, even as she stayed frozen in place.
"But you won't," he murmured. "Because you want to know what happens next."
His words kissed her skin more intimately than hands ever could. She felt the air leave her lungs. She did want to know. She wanted to know what it felt like to be touched. Claimed. Desired.
Nathan leaned in, lips hovering just above hers.
"I won't kiss you," he said, "not until you ask."
Amber's hands trembled at her sides. Her robe slid slightly, baring one shoulder to the night air. His eyes dropped, darkened.
She didn't speak. She couldn't.
But then—softly, shakily—her voice rose, barely a whisper:
"Kiss me."
He didn't hesitate.
His mouth claimed hers in a way that shattered every boundary. It wasn't gentle. It was hot, raw, and consuming. Her fingers tangled in his shirt as his hands cupped her face, pulling her deeper into him.
Amber had never been kissed like that. Like she was the only thing that existed. Like he needed her to breathe.
And just as quickly as it began, he pulled back, breathing heavy, eyes dark with restraint.
"That," Nathan growled, voice thick, "was just the beginning."
Amber stood trembling in the doorway, lips swollen, heart racing.
And all she could think was: God help me—I want more.