Scarlett’s POV

​Fuck. What was wrong with me? Scarlett, stop this. Stop this right now, I screamed at myself in the silence of my own mind. I was playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of a blade that could slice my entire life open. But Goddess help me, I couldn’t stop. The moment I felt him—the moment that heavy, thick heat of his hardened cock pressed against my core—every bit of logic evaporated.

​I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I continued to roll my waist in slow, agonizing circles over him, grinding my weight down until I felt the friction sparking like live wires between my thighs. Leonard let out a guttural groan, his large hands shifting from my waist to my ass, gripping me with a possessive strength that made my breath hitch. I looked down at him, and for a second, the mask of the cold Alpha slipped. I saw the brutal war raging in his eyes. There was a raw, starving desire to take me right there, to bury his grief in the body of a stranger, but it was fighting a losing battle against the suffocating wall of love and guilt he carried for a woman he thought was dead.

​I was that woman. And yet, I was the stranger.

​The irony burned worse than the whiskey on his breath. I leaned down, losing myself in the scent of him—the sandalwood and the salt of his tears—and pressed a lingering, wet kiss to the corded muscle of his neck. I didn’t care that we were in the middle of a VIP lounge. I didn’t care that any shifter in the room could catch the scent of our combined heat.

​Leonard let out a broken moan, his head falling back against the chair. Then, as if a dam had finally broken, he slapped my ass—a sharp, stinging hit that sent a jolt of pure pleasure straight to my clit. I moaned loudly, the sound lost in the thumping bass of the club. Taking his hand, I guided it beneath the hem of my short skirt.

​He didn’t need me to tell him what I wanted. His fingers found the lace of my panties, shifting the fabric aside with a practiced, ruthless intent. The moment his skin touched the entrance of my dripping pussy, he stiffened. He froze for a heartbeat, his nostrils flaring.

​"Fuck," he cursed, his voice a low, vibrating growl against my skin. "You’re soaking, Samantha. You’re practically drowning."

​I bit my lip, my eyes fluttering shut as I nodded. I was beyond words. I was a mess of nerves and need. I watched through half-closed lids as he inserted two fingers deep inside me.

​"Mmm..." The moan tore from my throat, low and raw.

​He grunted, his fingers moving with a punishing rhythm, stretching me, finding the sensitive spots that only he and his brothers knew how to reach. "So tight," he hissed, his thumb finding my clit and beginning a relentless grind that had me arching my back, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "How are you this tight?"

​I was coming apart. The pleasure was too much, the emotional weight too heavy. I leaned in, my heart screaming for the comfort of his mouth, for the taste of the mate I had missed with every fiber of my being. But just as my lips were about to brush his, Leonard caught himself.

​He snapped his head back, pulling his hand away from me as if he’d been burned. My arousal was slick on his fingers, glistening in the dim light.

​"I’m sorry," he rasped, his voice cold again, but shaking. "I can’t kiss you. I won’t."

​My heart didn’t just break; it shattered. The rejection felt like a physical blow to the chest. He was willing to finger a stranger, willing to use my body to dull his pain, but he wouldn’t give me his lips because those belonged to a memory. To me.

​I felt the hot sting of tears behind my mask. I quickly pulled away from his lap, my legs feeling weak as I smoothed down my skirt. My body was still thrumming, pulsing with a climax that had been cut off at the peak, leaving me hollow.

​"I... I’m sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with the emotion I was trying so hard to hide. "I went too far. I forgot my place."

​I took a step back, the distance between us feeling wider now. I looked at him one last time—at the powerful Alpha Leonard, looking reduced and miserable in his expensive suit.

​"I don’t know what happened to you, Alpha," I said, my voice trembling. "But you shouldn’t live like this. You deserve to be happy."

​I didn’t wait for an answer. I turned and walked away, my heart heavy with a grief that matched his own. I couldn’t go to the backstage area; I couldn’t face the other dancers or the noise. I needed to be alone. I made a beeline for the elevators, my breath coming in short hitches.

​I stepped into the gold-mirrored lift and pressed the button for my floor. Just as the heavy doors began to slide shut, I heard the sound of heavy, fast footsteps hitting the marble floor.

​A hand slammed between the doors, forcing them back open.

​Leonard rushed in, his eyes wild and glowing differently. Before I could even gasp, he had me pinned. He slammed me against the back wall of the elevator, the impact rattling my teeth. His hands framed my head, and then his mouth crashed onto mine.

​It wasn’t a question. It was a takeover.

​I was shocked for a split second, my hands hovering in the air, but then the familiarity of him—the taste of him—overwhelmed me. I kissed him back with everything I had, my tongue tangling with his as we fought for dominance in the small space. He tasted like the whiskey he’d been drowning in, but underneath it was the pure, intoxicating flavor of the man who was once my mate.

​As we stayed locked together, Leonard reached out blindly, his hand fumbling for the panel. His fingers found the button for the top floor—the private suites—and pressed it.

​The elevator began to rise, and I knew there was no turning back.

​"I don’t care who you are," he growled against my lips, his hands tearing at my wrap. "I don’t care if I regret this for the rest of my life. I need you. I need to be inside you now."