The silence in the back of the Rolls Royce was no longer empty; it was heavy, vibrating with a frequency that made the hair on my arms stand up. James hadn't moved his hand. His thumb was still resting against my jaw, his touch searing like a brand against my skin.
"James, people are going to see," I managed to whisper, though my voice betrayed me, tripping over the sudden dryness in my throat. I looked out the tinted window at the blurred lights of the city, desperate for a distraction from the man towering over me.
"No one can see inside this car, Anna," he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly silk. "And even if they could, do you think I care what they think?"
He leaned in closer, the scent of his expensive cologne—sandalwood mixed with a hint of dark bourbon wrapping around me like a physical weight. "For years, I played the part. I was the guardian. The protector. The man who kept you safe from the world." His eyes darkened, a flash of something raw and predatory flickering in the depths of his pupils. "But the world changed three months ago. I changed."
My breath hitched as his hand slid from my jaw, his fingers tangling into the hair at the nape of my neck. He didn't pull, but the firm grip told me exactly who was in control. My heart was thudding so hard I was sure he could feel it against his own chest.
"You're shivering," he noted, his gaze dropping to the swell of my breasts rising and falling rapidly under the thin fabric of my dress. "Is it fear, Anna? Or is it something else?"
"I don't know," I lied. The truth was a wildfire in my veins. I had spent years looking up to him, but tonight, the way he was looking at me didn't feel like "family." It felt like a claim.
Before I could process the shift in the air, James moved. He didn't kiss me not yet. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive curve of my neck, right below my ear. I gasped, my back arching instinctively against the leather seat.
"You taste like innocence," he growled against my skin, his hot breath sending a fresh wave of electricity through my body. "And I've never been a man who could resist a challenge."
His other hand found my waist, pulling me flush against him. Through the layers of our expensive clothes, I could feel the hard, unyielding lines of his body. He was all muscle and suppressed power, a billionaire who was used to taking whatever he desired without asking for permission.
"We're almost at the gala," I whimpered, even as my own hands found the lapels of his suit, gripping the fabric for balance.
"Then we have five minutes," he replied, pulling back just enough to look me in the eye. "Five minutes where you aren't my stepdaughter, and I isn't the man who raised you. Five minutes where we're just a man and a woman in the dark."
He didn't wait for me to agree. His mouth crashed onto mine, a collision of teeth and tongue that tasted of forbidden promises. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a conquest. He kissed me like he was starving, like he had been waiting for this moment since the day the "step" in our title became a formality.
My head spun. The morality I had clung to for nineteen years began to crumble under the heat of his touch. My tongue met his, a soft moan escaping my throat that he swallowed whole. His hand slid down from my waist, his palm grazing the curve of my hip, hiking the silk of my dress up inch by agonizing inch.
**********
The friction of his hand against my bare thigh made my head snap back, my eyes fluttering shut. "James... please..."
"Please what, Anna?" he whispered against my lips, his thumb brushing dangerously close to the lace of my underwear. "Tell me what you want. Tell me you want me to stop, and I will. But look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel this fire too."
I couldn't say it. The lie died in my throat.
Just as his fingers dipped beneath the edge of my panties, the car began to slow. The bright, artificial lights of the gala's red carpet started to filter through the front windshield, cutting through our private darkness.
********
James pulled away instantly, his expression smoothing into a mask of cold, professional indifference that made my head reel. He reached over, calmly smoothing the rumpled silk of my dress and tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.
"Fix your lipstick, Anna," he said, his voice back to that calm, billionaire rumble as if he hadn't just been devouring me seconds ago. "We have an audience."
The door was opened from the outside by a valet in white gloves. James stepped out first, the picture of a dignified, powerful man. He turned and held out his hand to me, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
I took his hand, my legs feeling like jelly. As we stepped onto the red carpet, the camera flashes blinded me, but all I could feel was the lingering heat of his touch on my skin and the terrifying realization that the gala hadn't even started yet.