THE FORBIDDEN TOUCH

The moment Isla stepped out of the penthouse, she knew she had made a mistake.

Cold night air wrapped around her like a warning, biting through the thin fabric of her dress. Her heels clicked against the marble hallway as she hurried toward the elevator, pulse racing, heart pounding.

What had she done?

Her fingers trembled as she pressed the call button. The doors slid open instantly, as if the universe was giving her an easy escape, but her body refused to move.

Behind her, the door to Damian Sinclair's penthouse remained closed, but she could still feel his presence, like a force pulling her back. The memory of his touch burned on her skin, the heat of his breath still ghosting over her lips.

She should leave.

She should get in the elevator, go home, and pretend tonight never happened.

But she couldn't.

Not when every inch of her body screamed for him.

With a sharp breath, Isla turned and walked back.

She barely had a chance to knock before the door swung open.

Damian stood there, his jacket gone, his tie loosened, his dark gaze locked on her as if he had been waiting. As if he had known she wouldn't leave.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "Changed your mind?"

Isla swallowed hard. "I never made up my mind in the first place."

His eyes darkened. "Then let me help you decide."

And just like that, she was lost.

Damian reached for her, pulling her inside before she could think. The door slammed shut behind her, sealing her fate. His hands were on her waist, firm and possessive, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

"I knew you wouldn't walk away," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

"I should," she whispered, her hands gripping his arms, holding on as if he were the only thing keeping her upright.

"But you won't."

He was right. And that terrified her.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down her spine, his touch both a promise and a threat. She shuddered, her resolve slipping with every second.

"This is dangerous," she said, but even she could hear the weakness in her voice.

Damian tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "So stop me."

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Because she didn't want to stop him.

She wanted to forget. To drown in him. To let herself be consumed by the fire that had been smoldering between them for years.

And tonight, she was finally ready to burn.

---

An hour later, Isla lay in Damian's bed, staring at the ceiling, her body still humming from his touch. The city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting soft shadows over the room.

Damian lay beside her, one arm draped over his forehead, his breathing steady and controlled, as if what had just happened hadn't shattered everything.

As if this was just another night.

But it wasn't.