Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

After Tara left, Clara poured herself another glass of fruit wine.

She didn't really care about whatever the guys were talking about. Their conversation faded into the background as she drifted off into her own thoughts.

By the time Dylan called her name, she'd already downed five glasses. Her eyes were a little glassy, her mind floating.

He reached over, gently catching her wrist and taking the empty glass from her hand, setting it down on the coffee table. His tone was gentle.

"I look away for a second and you drink this much?"

A glass or two of that sweet wine was no big deal, but five? That stuff would hit her hard in a few minutes.

Clara slumped back against the sofa, her cheeks warm and rosy. She heard him talking to her and tried to sit up, but her limbs felt like jelly. She pushed herself up too quickly and ended up tumbling right into his lap, bumping her nose hard against his chest. The sting brought tears to her eyes.

Dylan looked down, just as she tilted her head up. Her eyes were bright with tears.

His Adam's apple bobbed. He brushed his hand up the side of her neck, tilted her chin, and kissed her.

Across the room, Jackson was chatting with Richard when he noticed Nicholas's face turn beet red. He followed Nicholas's gaze-and his own glass slipped from his hand, smashing on the floor.

Wine splashed everywhere, filling the private lounge with its sweet scent.

Richard frowned, confused by the sudden commotion. He looked over, and when he saw Dylan-usually the picture of restraint-kissing Clara like he couldn't get enough of her, he squeezed his own glass until it shattered in his hand.

This was the first time any of them had seen Dylan lose control-at least in front of them.

Clara barely had time to breathe. She turned her head to catch her breath, but Dylan's hand was already on her chin, pulling her back in for more.

Their voices sounded soft and hazy in the dim light of the lounge.

Richard tossed the glass shards into the trash, shaking his head. "Maybe... save it for when you two get home?"

Jackson bent down to pick up his glass, but the spilled wine was a lost cause.

Clara, still feeling boneless and dazed, was finally let go, her lips a little puffy. She barely understood. what was happening, but she caught the words "save it for home," and something stubborn flared inside her. She leaned in again, pressing messy, eager kisses to Dylan's lips.

Dylan's breathing was already ragged. Now his eyes went even darker.noveldrama

Her kisses wandered down to his jaw, then his neck.

He let out a low laugh, turned her face back toward his, and kissed her again.

That's when Tara walked in. She stopped cold in the doorway.

No matter how calm she usually was, there was no way she could take another step. Her face went through a storm of emotions as she gripped the doorknob so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Back when there'd been rumors about Dylan and Shelly, plenty of women had tried to get close to him-some even tried to drug him, hoping to get pregnant and trap him.

But the night Dylan was locked in a room with one of those women, bis people found her tied up the next morning while Dylan sat on the sofa sweaty, sure, but looking perfectly put together.

After that, the woman disappeared from New York's social scene, and everyone

realized Dylan wasn't someone you could tempt or move.

Tara had never seen him break that perfect, elegant shell-never seen him

breathless, never seen hunger in his eyes.

She'd thought it was impossible.

But now, right in front of her, it was happening.

The man she always thought was cold and distant was looking at Clara like he wanted to swallow her whole, kissing her with a raw, aching passion that made it impossible to look away.