Chapter 4

FOUR

T he city lights blur past the tinted windows of the sleek, black sedan as we approach my penthouse. Each flash of neon feels like a jolt to my drug-addled system, but I force my mind to remain sharp, focused on the woman beside me—Devin West. My Devin West.

I've missed her so fucking much. Seeing her again is like getting water after a drought. Dark hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face I've dreamed about for years. Her striking green eyes, the same ones that have haunted me since her birthday party, now watch me with a mixture of concern and something darker, more intriguing.

As we pull up to the private entrance, I steel myself. The drug may be coursing through my veins, but I can't show my hand. Not now. Not when I finally have her within reach after all this time.

"We're here, Mr. Rivers," she says, her voice low and controlled. The sound of it sends a shiver down my spine. How many times have I imagined her saying my name? "Let me help you inside."

I nod, allowing her to assist me out of the car. I let my stride falter, playing up the drug's effects. Her arm slips around my waist, and the contact, even through layers of clothing, feels electric. Her grip tightens slightly, supporting me, and I have to stifle a groan at the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

"Careful," she murmurs, her breath warm against my ear. "Just a few more steps."

We approach the entrance, and to my surprise, Devin inputs the access code without hesitation. My security system is state-of-the-art, known only to a select few. Yet she navigates it with the ease of familiarity. Interesting. Very interesting. What other secrets are you hiding, Devin?

"Is it really you?" I ask, wanting to hear her speak.

"It's me."

The penthouse doors slide open silently, revealing the expansive living area beyond. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city skyline, the lights twinkling like stars against the night sky. The space feels charged, alive with an electric tension that crackles between us.

I stumble, this time genuinely caught off guard by a wave of dizziness. "Sorry," I mutter, leaning more heavily on her. The scent of her perfume—something floral with an underlying musk—envelops me. "Everything's... spinning." It's an easy lie and perfect to keep her near me.

"You should sit down," she says, guiding me toward the leather couch. Her hand splays across my back, steadying me, and I swear I can feel the heat of her palm through my suit jacket. It takes every ounce of self-control not to lean into her touch, to demand more.

I watch through half-lidded eyes as she moves to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of water. Each step is purposeful and confident, her hips swaying in a way that draws my gaze like a magnet. She navigates my space as if she knows it intimately, and the sight stirs something primal within me. This is not the fragile girl from six years ago. There's more to this Devin than meets the eye, and I'm determined to uncover every layer.

"Mr. Rivers," she says, her voice wavering slightly. "You've been drugged. You need to drink this and rest."

She offers me the glass, but as I reach for it, I let my fingers wrap around her wrist instead. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I have to stifle a groan. I hear a small gasp escape her lips, and the sound ignites something urgent within me.

I sense my eyes darken with desire, and I see the effect it has on her—the slight dilation of her pupils, the quickening of her breath. Fuck, how I've missed her. I don't want to think about how one night with her stopped me from wanting any other woman since. She's been the only person in my mind for six years.

"I don't want to rest," I murmur, leaning in close. I let my breath ghost across her cheek, reveling in the shiver that runs through her body. "I want you. Fuck, I want you so much it hurts."

The words aren't entirely an act. The drug may be amplifying my desires, but the want—the need—for Devin has been simmering for years. Now, with her so close, it's all I can do not to claim her right here, right now. I've been waiting for her. Now, I can have her.

"Mr. Rivers," she says softly, not pulling away despite the hesitation in her voice. "You're not yourself right now."

I laugh, a low, dark sound that I see sends a flush creeping up her neck. "I've never felt more like myself," I tell her, bringing my free hand up to cup her cheek. The softness of her skin under my palm is intoxicating, and I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.

She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The sight of her, so responsive to my touch, so clearly wanting this as much as I do, nearly breaks my resolve. I want to take her right here, consequences be damned. This game we're playing is too delicious to end so soon.

With what seems like considerable effort, Devin extracts herself from my grasp. "You need to rest," she tells me, but I hear the strain in her voice and see the way her body unconsciously leans toward mine even as she steps away.

I narrow my eyes, letting a flash of my usual sharpness break through the drug's manufactured fog. "You're holding back," I accuse, following her as she retreats into the living room. Every step feels like I'm being pulled by an invisible thread, my body gravitating toward hers.

She backs away, but I can see the excitement thrumming through her, belying her attempt at propriety. "No one ever tells everything, Mr. Rivers," she replies smoothly. "Especially not in our circles."

Her words are a challenge, and I feel a thrill run through me. This cat-and-mouse game, this dance of desire and restraint, is everything I've ever wanted. We started this game six years ago and now we can finally play.

I stalk her across the room, my movements purposeful despite my supposed intoxication. When her back hits the wall, I plant a hand next to her head and wrap the other around her throat, holding her still. I squeeze but she's not showing any fear.

The heat of her body, the scent of her perfume mixed with something uniquely her, is overwhelming. I lean in close, squeeze her throat, and brush my lips over her ear. "Tell me," I demand and bite on her earlobe. "Why, Devin," my voice is low and rough. "Why can't I get you out of my head."

I feel her shudder against me, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to press my body fully against hers. I pull back slightly, meeting her gaze. The desire I see there mixed with a calculated gleam that mirrors my own sends a rush of excitement through me.

For a moment, we're suspended in time, the air between us thick with tension and unspoken promises. Then, slowly, deliberately, I lower my head, my lips hovering just above hers. "Devin," I breathe, her name a prayer and a curse on my lips.

And then we're crashing together, all pretense abandoned. The kiss is fierce, hungry, years of pent-up desire unleashed in a single moment. Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan into her mouth. Her nails scrape at the back of my neck, leaving claw marks I can't help but love. My body presses her against the wall, every point of contact sending sparks of pleasure through me.

As we lose ourselves in each other, a small part of my mind remains alert, observing. The way Devin moves against me, the little sounds she makes—it's all filed away, pieces of a puzzle I'm determined to solve. Because even as I give in to this moment of passion, I know it's just the beginning.

Devin thinks she's the one in control, but she has no idea this has been a long time in the making. This is more than desire, more than obsession. When she looked at me with her innocent grateful eyes the night I took her virginity, she became mine. And I don't give away what belongs to me.

We finally break apart and she helps me back onto the sofa.

"Mr. Rivers," she says, her voice slightly strained. "You should rest."

I reach out, my fingers brushing against her hand. The contact sends sparks racing up my arm, and I have to bite back a groan. "Stay," I say, the single word laden with meaning. "I don't want to be alone."

She hesitates, and I can see the internal struggle playing out behind her eyes. For a moment, I think she might refuse. But then she nods slowly, sinking down beside me on the couch. "All right," she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper.

The air between us thickens even further, charged with unspoken tension. I can feel the heat radiating from her body and smell the subtle aroma of her natural scent. It's intoxicating in a way that has nothing to do with the drug in my system.

"Devin. My Devin." Will she admit to who she is? Admit to us?

Her eyes widen slightly, a mixture of caution and something darker—desire, perhaps?—swirling in their depths. "The drug making you confused," she suggests, but there's an undercurrent to her words, a tension that belies her calm exterior.

"No," I insist, leaning closer. Our faces are inches apart now, and I can see the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat. "I know you're my Devin."

For a moment, we're suspended in time, balanced on the knife's edge between restraint and abandon. I can see the war raging behind her eyes, the same battle I'm fighting within myself. Then, as if a switch has been flipped, we're crashing together.

And once again, all control is gone. Our lips meet in a fervent kiss that ignites every nerve ending in my body. It's like a dam breaking, the earlier kiss only laid the foundation for this one. Devin responds with equal passion, her fingers tangling in my hair, and her moans making me so hard, I can barely think. She pulls me closer, her nails digging at the back of my neck. I growl low in my throat, the sound more animal than human.

"Devin," I breathe against her lips, tasting her name like a forbidden fruit.

Grabbing her by the arm, I drag her toward my bedroom but she stops me by the walls just a few steps away from the sofa. Without a word, I grip her throat, my fingers wrapping around her delicate neck. She stumbles, her hands clawing at mine, but I don't let go.

I shove her against the wall, my body pressing against hers. Her breath hitches, her eyes flashing with anger and something else. Something darker. Something that calls to the devil inside me.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" I murmur, my voice low and dangerous. She squirms, trying to break free, but I hold her tightly, my grip unyielding. "Don't you want this?"

"You're drugged. Let me go," she hisses.

I laugh. "Never," I growl, my free hand shoving the skirt on her dress up and bunching it at her waist. Then I yanked down her thong, exposing her to me. I run my hand through her slick folds, a smirk playing on my lips as I feel her wetness. "Look how wet you are for me. Your body knows who it belongs to."

She tries to fight me, her hands pushing against my chest, her legs kicking out. But I'm stronger. I always have been. I slip a finger inside her, then another, my thumb circling her clit.

She gasps, her body tensing, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and desire. "You're going to have to fight harder," I murmur, my voice thick with lust. "Otherwise, I'm going to make you come all over my hand right here."

I continue to finger fuck her, my hand moving in a steady rhythm, my thumb applying just the right amount of pressure. And between my words and my ministrations, she finally gives in.

She melts against me, her body softening, her breath coming in short gasps. I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. "That's it, sweetheart," I growl. "Give in to it. Give in to me."

She comes with a cry, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around my fingers. I hold her tightly, my hand still around her throat, my body pressing against hers. She's mine. She's always been mine.

And now that I have her again, I'm never letting her go. Not again. Not ever.

I reach down with one hand, undoing my pants, freeing my cock. Devin's eyes widen, her body tensing, and she starts to fight again. She pushes against my chest, her legs kicking out, trying to dislodge me."You're not in your right mind."

I laugh, a harsh, mocking sound. "This act is pointless," I growl, my hand gripping her thigh, feeling the slickness of her arousal. "Your thighs are soaked. You want this. You want me. So just part those pretty legs and let me in."

Her eyes flash with defiance, her nails digging into my arms. I smirk, wrapping her legs around my waist and positioning myself at her entrance. With one swift thrust, I slam into her, burying myself deep inside her tight, wet heat.

She yelps, her body jerking, her hands coming up to grip my shoulders, her nails digging in so hard, I can feel the sting. I bare my teeth at her, a feral grin, as I feel the trickle of blood.

She's marked me. Good. I want her to. I want her to leave her claim on me, just like I'm leaving mine on her.

I pin her against the wall, my hips moving in a relentless rhythm, my cock sliding in and out of her. She fights me, her body bucking against mine. I hiss at how fucking good she feels squeezing around me, my grip on her tightening as I continue to fuck her, our bodies locked in a battle of wills.

"You feel that?" I groan, my voice thick with lust. "You feel how fucking hard you make me?" I slam in even harder, and she moans, her head falling back against the wall, her eyes glazed with desire. "Oh, fuck, I love the way you squeeze my cock."

Her hips start to move in sync with mine, her body meeting my thrusts, her pussy clenching around my shaft. I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear, my voice a low growl. "This pussy is mine. You can fight it all you want, but you know it's true. You know no one can make you feel like this."

I know she remembers me. I know she understands I'm not talking about just now.

She twists so her mouth is at my neck, her teeth sinking into my flesh. I hiss, my hips moving faster, my cock pounding into her with a force that leaves us both breathless.

I feel her orgasm building, her body tensing, her breath coming in short gasps. My own release approaches, my cock swelling inside her, my balls tightening.

"Come with me," I growl, my voice thick with need. "Prove to me how much you love the way I fuck you."

She cries out, her body convulsing, her pussy clenching around my cock as she comes. I groan, my own orgasm hitting me like a freight train, my cock pulsing as I fill her with my come. We ride out our pleasure together, our bodies locked in a fierce embrace, our breaths mingling, our hearts pounding in sync.

As we come down from our high, I press my forehead against hers, my eyes locked onto hers. She stares at me, her eyes filled with a mix of anger, desire, and resignation. There's no denying what she wants to ignore.

She's mine.

Afterward, as we lie tangled together on the couch, I feel the weight of exhaustion settling in. The drug's lingering effects pull at my consciousness, but I fight it, not wanting this moment to end.

"Rest now," she murmurs, her voice soft and soothing. She adjusts a pillow beneath my head, and for a brief moment, I see a flash of vulnerability in her expression. It's gone so quickly, I almost think I imagined it, but it sears itself into my memory.

As my eyes drift closed, satisfaction washes over me. Devin West is finally here, in my arms, exactly where I've wanted her for so long. The feel of her body against mine, the scent of her on my skin—it's everything I've dreamed of and more.

My last conscious thought before sleep claims me is a promise to myself: I will unlock every one of Devin's secrets, no matter what it takes. She is mine now, and I have no intention of ever letting her go.

I wake to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, my head pounding with the aftereffects of whatever I was drugged with. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the events of the previous night feeling like a vivid dream. But then the memories come rushing back in a flood of sensory detail—Devin's touch, her taste, the way she moved against me. My body responds instantly to the recollection, desire coursing through me anew.

But as I sit up, the cool air hitting my bare skin, I realize I'm alone. The penthouse is silent, no trace of her presence save for the lingering scent of her perfume on the couch cushions. I bring the fabric to my nose, inhaling deeply, trying to recapture the essence of her.

A rueful smile tugs on my lips. Of course, she left. Devin isn't one to linger for morning-after pleasantries. I could tell the moment our gazes met at the gala that she wasn't the scared little eighteen-year-old I saved from Regina.

There was control and something else in her eyes. I've finally gotten her back in my grasp. But now that I've had a taste, the need for more gnaws at me with an intensity that's almost frightening.

I stand, stretching out the kinks in my muscles, and make my way to the kitchen. As I pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee, my mind races, analyzing every moment of our encounter. Each touch, bite, and kiss plays on a loop in my head, stoking the fire of my obsession.

Devin's confidence in my home, her familiarity with my security system, the way she seemed to know my body so intimately. She's been watching me, studying me, just as I've been watching her. The thought sends a thrill of excitement through me. We're more alike than I ever imagined, and it only makes me want her more.

I take a sip of coffee, savoring the bitter taste as I gaze out at the city sprawled below. The sun is rising, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, but all I can think about is the green of Devin's eyes, the softness of her skin.

Whatever Devin's motivations, one thing is clear: the game has changed. The lines between us have blurred irrevocably, and I find myself more intrigued—more obsessed—than ever. Last night was just the beginning, a taste of what could be. And now that I've had that taste, I know I'll never be satisfied until I have all of her.

A ping from my phone draws my attention. It's a message from Daniel, my right-hand man: "Unusual activity detected in our systems overnight. Possible breach attempt. Need to discuss."

Interesting timing. Could this be connected to Devin's sudden reappearance in my life? The possibility sends another thrill of excitement through me. Perhaps there's more to her than I ever imagined. The thought of Devin as not just an object of desire, but a worthy opponent in every arena, makes my pulse quicken.

I type out a quick response to Daniel, then set my coffee cup down with a decisive click. Time to get to work. There are mysteries to unravel, pieces to put into place. And at the center of it all, Devin West.

My fingers trace the edge of the couch where we lay entwined just hours ago. The memory of her body against mine, the sound of her gasps and moans, fuels a fire in my veins. Devin thinks she can play me? She has no idea what she's awakened.

I've been waiting years for this dance to begin, and I intend to lead. Every step and every turn will bring her closer to me, deeper into the web of desire and obsession I've been weaving since the moment I first laid eyes on her.