Mary Louise Emerson

Friday. Xander always goes to Veritas on Fridays. Alaura has her ways of knowing when he’s at the club.

After last night, she doesn’t expect him to play into her game so soon.

And yet, she still leaves the door open.

Not as a taunt or a dare.

Just a possibility.

She doesn’t wait up for him either. Doesn’t let herself linger in the anticipation of what-ifs. Instead, she lets the warmth of the fire combat the cold seeping in from the crack as she lies in bed.

Unable to sleep, the night stretches long and restless. She tosses and turns, something inside her keeps stirring.

Moments before slipping into slumber, she hears it. The door slides open and so do her eyes. The clock reads 4 a.m. Late. Even for him.

Remaining silent, she rises from the bed and steps into the dark corner of the bedroom, pulse steady.

Xander appears in her apartment, as if coming home from his evening. Arriving with a new gift, smaller than the last one.

She observes him stopped at the coffee table, the flickering light of the fire spilling golden highlights over the defined angles of his face, catching the strong cut of his jaw, the unreadable depth in his dark eyes.

He’s still dressed, no longer wearing his suit jacket. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, a hint of chest barely visible beneath the fabric. Sleeves pushed up to the middle of his forearms, revealing ink and muscle. There’s a rawness to him tonight.

Alaura remains hidden, watching as he sets the unwrapped jewelry box on the table. A moment of indecisiveness. Debating whether he should leave now.

His gaze shifts towards the bedroom, a flash of confusion as he realizes she’s in the apartment but not in her bed, or asleep. Attention now on the corner where her presence guides it.

Wearing his black lacy nightgown that clings to every curve with sheer temptation, Alaura steps into the moonlight.

Xander’s entire body goes taut, posture rigid, as if something inside him is warring between moving forward and stepping back. The two opposing forces keeping him in place.

The lace brushes softly against her skin as she moves closer, the slit from her thigh to her hip parting with each step. Closer and closer, until she’s standing right in front of him.

Restraint fraying, his stance begins to betray him, weight shifting like he’s seconds away from closing the distance himself.

Stillness stretches with anticipation as Alaura bends down, hand resting on the lid before opening it, stunned by what lies inside.

An exquisite necklace, its design impossibly sophisticated. Pear-shaped diamonds woven into an elegant chain of white gold, each stone catching the firelight, scattering fragments of brilliance across the black velvet it rests on.

Rising to meet his eyes, she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have to, knows he can sense her appreciation. With a silent request, she extends the open case towards him, put it on me.

His lips quirk into a faint smile. Offering her a nod of agreement, he takes it from her.

Chin dipped slightly, she angles herself away, sweeping her hair to the side, exposing the delicate curve of her throat.

The energy between them is almost magnetic, pulling them together even as they both stand there, unmoving. The same feeling they experienced the first night they met on the dance floor.

There’s a faint rustle as he sets the box down. A soft clink of the chain slipping over his fingertips.

Then—his hands glide along her skin.

Alaura inhales sharply. The briefest contact fires along every nerve.

Cool metal meets warm flesh as he drapes it across her collarbones, the clasp catching at the nape of her neck.

His fingers remain on the necklace, as if unable to let go.

Finally, he does.

Turning to face him again, she looks at the face she wished to see again.

Xander’s eyes sweep over her, slow and possessive, taking in his view.

His focus settles on the diamonds resting over her heartbeat, and with startling clarity, his intent echoes through her mind.

Mine.

She knows this isn’t just another gift, it’s a claim.

Now she will claim something in return.

Her fingers reach for the second button of his shirt. One at a time, she unbuttons them. Waiting for him to stop her. For him to grab her wrist, to put space between them, to remind her that this is dangerous. That he is dangerous.

But he doesn’t.

He just stands there, letting her.

And she wonders why.

Reaching the last button, she moves the cloth aside, tracing the lines of his exposed ridged abs, muscles tightening beneath her fingertips.

They slide their way up his torso. Dark ink. Intricate shapes stretch across the expanse of his chest—ancient words, deep scars, markings of a past she doesn’t yet understand. She follows them, memorizing the map of his body, feeling the way he continues to flex at her touch, the way his breathing changes.

Deeper now. Like he’s trying to rein himself in.

Alaura lifts her gaze, watching him as she eases the garment from his shoulders with unbearable patience. The shirt falls, revealing the full extent of tattoos spiraling down his arms, the hard cut of muscle.

Xander stares with a stoic expression waiting for her to finish.

Before it drops to the floor, she catches it. Draping it over her frame, the sleeves swallow her hands, hem brushing mid-thigh.

No words, no smirk or gloat. She simply turns away and walks toward the bed.

Another play in this game.

He comes into her apartment, gives her diamonds.

And now he’s leaving without his shirt.

Slipping beneath the covers, Alaura pulls the blanket over her, sinking into its warmth. The rich, intoxicating aroma of cedar and sea salt clinging to the fabric.

Head tilted back, he drags a hand down his face, exhaling through gritted teeth, crossing the room until he reaches her bed.

Alaura’s eyes are closed, body perfectly still—though the awareness between them makes pretending to be asleep almost pointless.

He leans over, inhaling the mixture of her and him, and whispers, “Sunday. 8 p.m. Be ready.” His final move. The one that tells her she’s won. But more importantly, he’s done playing.

Xander lingers a second longer, then finally exits the apartment, shutting the glass door. Leaving her with his scent, his necklace, and the knowledge that she belongs to him.