Love And Carnage

Chapter 4 @The Player

Red. Fire. Danger. Firecracker. My Firecracker.

Her pitch-black eyes pulled me in deeper with every step we took, each flicker hinting at secrets I was aching to unravel and dangers I longed to dive into. Our dance last night stayed burned in my mind: her every step, how her breath hitched each time she took a wrong step, and my favourite part, her eyes.

She looked up at me with a feral intensity, awakening parts of me I thought were long dead. The way her dimple flashed each time she turned me down sent my heart spiralling—no one had ever denied me like that, and damn, if it wasn't the best part.

Women usually fall at my feet, but her? She's rude, fiery, and all bite. Perfectly imperfect for me.

My legs almost gave out when she stopped the dance, leaving me desperate to hold her again, to breathe in her intoxicating scent—vanilla and spice, my favourite temptation. It's in my lungs now, consuming me from the inside out.

And the way she leans into me for guidance sends sparks racing down my spine, and I know she feels it, too. I've held vulnerable women in my arms before, but this is no vulnerable woman.

She's got me hanging on by a thread over a dangerous edge, and her fiery gaze could either save me or let me fall.

I couldn't help but smirk every time her eyes flickered with fire when I squeezed her waist. It was a teasing game, yet her reaction tugged at my heart, pulling me in further.

She was so angry but curious at the same time, igniting my own curiosity.

Every curve of her body in that ocean-blue dress was sculpted for sin, hiding mysteries I was eager to uncover.

Not many women could pull off a daring split like that, and it was sexy as hell.

Her red hair and those dark eyes consumed my thoughts even after now. The worst part? My fingers ached to feel her slick skin against mine, to sense her shudder beneath my touch.

I would've taken her home right then, studied her inch by inch until I reclaimed what little control I had left. But she pushed me away.

Rejection isn't something I handle, yet here I am—wondering if I'm losing my mind or if she's branded something into me that I can't shake.

My skin still tingles where she touched me, the air around me faintly tinged with her presence. Dangerous. Bad for me. Yet, knowing that I should stay away only pulls me in deeper.

Sunlight glints off the pool, dragging me back to reality, pulling me from the haze of last night's ball. It's the morning after, the remnants of glitter and laughter still echoing in my mind.

My usual morning routine would be to escort the woman of my night on her way out and promise to call her, but I never did.

But last night, I didn't want anyone else there besides her, and when she left me standing there alone, I tried to get her off my mind by kissing another girl in some dark corner at the ball, but she didn't feel the same as my firecracker, her scent, her eyes.

What the hell is happening to me? This isn't who I am. One night with a new girl is supposed to be enough to keep my demons at bay. But her? She's awakening feelings I never wanted to confront.

I catch my breath, berating myself for not even catching her name. I was too transfixed by my own desires to even ask her name.

Stupid. I mutter the word to myself, staring blankly at the water.

The pool—my enemy, my sanctuary—sits beneath the bright morning sun, surrounded by neatly trimmed hedges and at the centre of this sprawling patio that perfectly complements this hollow mansion.