Dancing With Aphrodite

Chapter 3

As she slipped into the cab, the cool night air brushing against her flushed cheeks, Corinne's mind raced, replaying the night's events in a dizzying loop. She could still feel the ghost of Caspian's touch on her skin, the heat of his breath against her neck, the intoxicating pull of his presence. It had been a long time since she'd felt this alive, this desired—this dangerously close to losing herself.

But as the city lights blurred past, doubt crept in, a nagging voice whispering that she'd made a mistake. This wasn't who she was. She didn't do things like this, didn't let strange men touch her in darkened clubs, didn't crave the thrill of the forbidden.

And yet, the memory of his dark eyes, the way they had looked at her like she was the only woman in the world, refused to fade. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, this was a mistake worth making. Even if it was a mistake, even if she regretted it tomorrow—tonight, she had felt something real, something she hadn't felt in a long time.

A small, secret smile curved her lips as she leaned back in the seat, her eyes drifting shut. But as the cab pulled away, taking her further from the bar, from Caspian, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much more dangerous. And for the first time in a long time, she wasn't sure if she wanted to run away—or dive headfirst into the fire.

Back in her apartment, Corinne paced the floor, the image of Caspian's smoldering gaze burned into her mind. She could still feel the ghost of his touch, the way he'd made her tremble with a mere whisper. The night had been a whirlwind of passion, but now, in the quiet of her own space, the weight of her actions settled heavily on her shoulders.

She collapsed onto her sofa, trying to ground herself. The glow of her studio lights beckoned from the next room. Her art—once a source of solace and self-expression—now seemed like a distant memory. She'd promised herself she would find her way back to it, but tonight's chaos had left her feeling more lost than ever.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. It was a message from Maisie: **"Everything okay? You disappeared after we saw you with that guy. Miss you! xoxo"**

Corinne stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She knew she couldn't explain what had happened, not without sounding utterly mad. She typed a quick reply: "Just needed some space. I'm fine. See you soon."

With a sigh, Corinne stood and wandered to her studio. The room was dimly lit, the scattered canvases and half-finished paintings casting eerie shadows. She approached her easel, running her fingers over the texture of a canvas that had once been full of promise. She picked up a brush, dipped it into a palette of vibrant colors, and began to paint.

As she worked, her mind kept drifting back to Caspian. The way he had touched her, the way he had spoken to her—it was as though he had unlocked something deep inside her, a part of her that she had long kept under lock and key. Each stroke of the brush was filled with a mixture of frustration and fascination.

Hours passed, and the first light of dawn began to creep through the windows. Corinne stepped back from her canvas, her work now a chaotic swirl of color and emotion. It wasn't finished, but it was raw and honest—just like her encounter with Caspian.

The doorbell rang, startling her from her trance. She glanced at the clock—nearly eight in the morning. Who could it be at this hour?