Forbidden Fire

Nicholas’s POV

>You’re not supposed to want her.

You raised her. Protected her. Watched her grow into a woman with a fire that makes your control feel like paper.

But what I want… what I crave... I don’t think I can resist anymore.

Last night changed everything.

I heard her. Moaning my name in that breathless way that sent every rational thought flying out the damn window. I should’ve turned around. Closed the door. Pretended I didn’t see her fingers, the blanket, the screen still glowing in the dark.

But I didn’t.

I watched. Frozen. And burning.

Now we had to survive a three-day trip to the West Coast—back-to-back meetings, hotel rooms on the same floor, and absolutely zero distance between us.

This was a bad idea.

The kind of bad idea that kept me awake all night.

---

She knocked on my door at exactly 8:00 a.m.

“Ready?” she said, sunglasses on, luggage in one hand and iced coffee in the other like she hadn’t shattered my sleep with her voice last night.

I opened the door and nearly forgot how to speak.

Tight black jeans. White crop top. Her hair was loose, tumbling over her shoulders in messy waves that screamed effortless and dangerous.

“You look... comfortable,” I said, voice rough.

She smirked. “It’s a short flight.”

“You mean five hours of torture.”

Her brows lifted, teasing. “Already planning to suffer beside me?”

“I’m not the one playing with fire,” I muttered, stepping out and locking the door behind me.

She let out a soft laugh and walked ahead. And yeah—I watched.

How the hell was I supposed to sit next to her for five hours?

---

Business class was quiet. Too quiet.

We were seated side by side—our elbows almost touching, her perfume curling around me like smoke.

She pulled out her laptop. I didn’t bother pretending to open mine.

She was scrolling through presentation notes. I was trying not to imagine what her skin tasted like.

“You’re staring,” she said after a while, without even looking up.

“You’re not making it easy to stop.”

She turned her head slowly, eyes catching mine. “Want to switch seats?”

“Not a chance.”

She smiled, and damn, that smile could melt steel.

Midway through the flight, she leaned in closer.

Her voice was barely a whisper. “Ever joined the mile-high club?”

I blinked. “Ava.”

“What? It’s just a question.”

“You’re trying to get me arrested in mid-air.”

She laughed—soft, seductive. “You’re the one staring.”

I leaned toward her, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath. “If you come near me again, I won’t be able to stop.”

She tilted her head. “Good.”

I clenched my jaw and turned toward the window. I needed air. Cold air. Maybe a tranquilizer.

She wasn’t just fire.

She was wildfire.

And I was dry kindling, already half-burned.

---

When we landed, she stretched in her seat, giving me a full view of the skin between her top and waistband. “That wasn’t so bad,” she said.

“I’m bleeding internally.”

She laughed. “Maybe next time I’ll wear something tighter.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re playing with something that bites back.”

She leaned in, lips brushing my ear. “I’m counting on it.”

---

The car was sleek and way too small. Her thigh touched mine the entire ride to the hotel. I didn't say a word. Neither did she.

But the tension? It was loud.

The hotel was five-star—polished marble, dim gold lighting, the kind of place where every inch was soaked in silent temptation.

The front desk clerk greeted us with a smile far too knowing. “Mr. Rivers, Ms. Hartley. Executive suites—side by side. If you need the connecting door opened between them, just let us know.”

I froze.

Ava didn’t.

“We’ll see how the night goes,” she said sweetly.

I shot her a look. She just shrugged, utterly unbothered.

We headed up in the elevator. Just the two of us. Again.

She leaned against the mirrored wall. “Relax. I’m not going to crawl into your bed tonight.”

“You already did,” I muttered. “Last night. In my head.”

Her lips twitched. “Did I behave?”

“No.”

“Did you like it?”

I didn’t answer.

But she knew.

---

The evening review dinner was formal—buttoned-up clients, charts, wine that tasted like melted wood.

She wore red.

Ava in red was a crime. The dress clung to her like it had been poured on. Backless. Sleeveless. Legs for days. Lips like sin itself.

I barely heard a word our client said.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at her. Laughing too loud. Hand grazing the small of her back one too many times.

Ava played it cool—charming, professional.

But I was ready to break his wrist.

After dinner, I didn’t ask.

I just took her arm and led her toward the elevator.

“I was handling it,” she said once we were alone.

“I know.”

“You were jealous.”

I didn’t reply.

“You know what I think?” she whispered as we stepped onto our floor. “You don’t want me, Nicholas. You just don’t want anyone else to have me.”

I unlocked her door and stepped inside without asking.

“You think you’re a toy I don’t want to share?” I asked quietly.

She raised a brow. “Aren’t I?”

I stepped in close, backing her against the door.

My voice dropped. “No. You’re a weapon. And every time you touch me, I bleed.”

Her chest rose and fell, breath caught. “Then don’t touch me.”

“I can’t.”

---

The moment my hands found her waist, it was over.

She crashed into me like a spark to gasoline—fingers tangled in my hair, mouth urgent and open against mine. We kissed like we were dying for it. Maybe we were.

She gasped as I lifted her onto the table, her thighs spreading just enough to welcome me between them. Her nails scraped the back of my neck. My lips didn’t leave her skin as I trailed down—her jaw, her throat, the curve of her breasts.

I dropped to my knees.

I pulled her panties aside, and fuck… she was soaked. I groaned against her heat and buried my tongue between her folds, tasting her like salvation and sin.

She arched, a sharp moan cutting the air.

“N-Nicholas—”

“Say it louder,” I growled into her, licking deeper. “Let the whole damn hotel know who’s making you shake.”

She bit her knuckle, trembling. Her thighs clamped around my head, and I didn’t stop until she was pulsing on my tongue.

When I stood, her lips were already parted, eyes glassy and wild. I pulled out my cock—hard, aching, already leaking for her.

She didn’t wait for instruction.

She slid off the table, dropped to her knees like she was made for it, and wrapped her lips around me in one smooth, slow motion.

“Fuck,” I hissed, one hand gripping the edge of the table, the other buried in her hair.

She looked up while sucking me—tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing—with that same sweet, defiant glint in her eyes.

Like she wanted to ruin me.

And she did.

Her mouth moved like she knew exactly how I liked it—slow, then fast, teasing the head with the tip of her tongue, then taking me deep until her throat fluttered around me.

I was close. Too close.

I pulled her back by the hair, panting. My cock glistened with her spit, twitching against her cheek. “You want me to lose control?”

She smirked, breathless. “I want you wrecked.”

I hauled her up and kissed her hard—tasting myself on her mouth, her fingers already working open my belt again.

“Tell me you’re mine,” I murmured against her lips.

She didn’t hesitate. “I’ve always been.”

My cock slid against her inner thigh, hot and desperate, but I stopped myself—barely.

“I won’t take you like this,” I rasped, chest heaving. “Not rushed. Not with the board breathing down our backs.”

She groaned, clinging to my shirt. “Nicholas…”

I kissed her neck, then her shoulder, letting my hand slide between her thighs once more. She gasped as I pressed my fingers inside her, slow and deep.

“I said I won’t fuck you,” I whispered, lips at her ear. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t finish what you started.”

She shivered—moaning my name as I moved my hand faster, deeper, until she came again, falling apart in my arms with my name on her lips like a prayer.

We collapsed together, breath ragged, skin damp with sweat and want.

Then—

Buzz.

My phone vibrated against the table.

I cursed under my breath, forehead still resting against her shoulder. She groaned too, clinging to me tighter.

“Don’t answer it,” she whispered.

But the screen glowed—Flight Pushed Up. Immediate Departure Required.

I leaned back, still catching my breath.

Ava sat up, flushed and glowing in nothing but her tangled dress and messed-up hair. “What now?”

I turned the screen toward her. “We leave in two hours.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”

I shook my head, still painfully hard. “If we don’t move now, I’ll miss the flight—and lose this deal.”

She flopped back on the bed, sheet slipping off one shoulder. “Perfect timing.”

I stood there for a beat longer, watching her, craving her all over again.

And I knew—if I stayed even one second longer, I wouldn’t leave this room.

“I need a shower,” I muttered, grabbing my shirt.

She didn’t even look at me. “Alone?”

I paused at the door. “Don’t push me, Ava.”

She smirked. “That’s the problem. I love pushing you.”