FIORA

Chapter 5 (In The Grip Of Amber Flames)

(A/N)
Play the music from above and dive into the story. You'll feel the vibe. Enjoy Bunnies.

LEO's POV

Her eyes are locked onto mine, and I see nothing but raw, unfiltered vulnerability in those depths.
I'm damn relieved to see her safe. Nothing matters more than knowing she's out of danger and no injuries. My eyes still scanning her body for any harm.

l can barely fucking breathe with her this close,
her body pressed against mine, legs wrapped
tight around my waist. The second I lifted her
away from that shattered glasses of champagne bottle on the floor, she clung to me, those beautiful legs locking around my torso, her hands sliding around my neck. She's wearing that damn metallic skirt, so short it drives me crazy, and that cold shoulder white top, revealing just enough cleavage to make me want to tear it off her. God, she has no idea how badly I want her.

I shift her from the door, pinning her against the walI. Fuck, we're so close, her chest pressing into mine, her breath mingling with mine. I can feel the rapid beat of her heart through her skin, and it's taking every ounce of willpower not to lose control. She's trembling, but there's something in her eyes-something that's not just fear.

I lower my head, my breath grazing the bare skin between her two perfect globes. I don't touch, but damn, I want to. The scent of her skin is driving me insane--sweat mixed with notes of jasmine and peony she always wears. It's intoxicating, pulling me under, making me want to drown in it, in her. My mouth hovers over the curve of her neck, so close to her pulse I can almost taste it. She shivers, and I can't fucking take it anymore.

I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear, voice rough and barely controlled. "I've got you,
Fiora. You're safe now."

But fuck, it's killing me to hold back. I want to taste her, to claim every inch of her, to sink my teeth into that soft skin and hear her gasp my name. I knew it that once I'm close to her it'll be so damn hard to touch her, claim her. But I won't—not like this. I want her when she's sober, when she's aware, when she gives herself to me with nothing but trust and love. I want her to choose me, to want me as badly as I want her.

So I tighten my grip on her waist pulling her closer, forcing myself to wait, even though it's tearing me apart inside. She'Il be mine, but not tonight—not until she's ready to surrender everything to me.

The lights are off, but I know this house like the back of my fucking hand. I've spent enough time here to find my way through it with my eyes closed. I guide her into the kitchen, the moonlight casting shadows that dance across her face. I lift her onto the countertop, taking off my coat and rolling up my sleeves. Every movement is deliberate, controlled, and I see her eyes following the silhouette of my actions, reflecting the soft light.

She's so fucking captivating, even as she's pressing her thighs together, reacting to the mere act of me rolling up my sleeves. I can tell she's struggling, her mind foggy with the alcohol. I go to fill a glass with water, trying to offer her some relief. But when I bring it to her, she pushes it away, some of the water spilling onto the floor. Her voice, slurred and tinged with frustration, cuts through the silence.

"I want more alcohol," she says, her words tinged with desperation. "I feel like I'm hallucinating."

I sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out how to handle this. I want her sober, but she's not in the mood for water right now. I move closer, leaning over her, feeling the heat between us. Her eyes are locked on mine, a mix of desire and fear flickering in those beautiful eyes of hers.

I reach up, opening the cabinet to grab the wine glasses. I fill one with water, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, I bring it to her lips. She drinks eagerly, like a thirsty kitten, her reaction making me chuckle despite the situation.