Clementine, a social media manager with fiery red hair and emerald green eyes, was a contradiction. Shy in person, her mind buzzed with fascinating trivia just waiting for the right listener.
Sebastian Montgomery as the tabloids dubbed him, was an...
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For the past three months, Sebastian and Clementine had been tangled in something neither dared to name. It wasn't love. It wasn't romance. It wasn't anything soft or gentle. It was hunger—raw, insatiable, and impossible to control.
It started with stolen moments. Quick, desperate encounters in his office, the lingering brush of fingers at a late-night meeting, his voice low and commanding, telling her to stay behind. Then, it spiraled. His car, the elevator, her apartment, his home. They were reckless, feverish, seeking each other out with a desperation that neither acknowledged out loud.
Sebastian was cold, distant, and unreadable outside of these moments, keeping her at arm's length with clipped words and a sharp gaze. But when he touched her, it was different. His hands were possessive, his control slipping at the edges as if he needed her in ways he refused to admit.
Sebastian wasn't gentle. He wasn't the kind of man who whispered sweet nothings or traced soft lines across her skin. He was rough, demanding, unyielding. And yet, Clementine kept coming back to him, kept letting him take from her, kept offering herself in ways that made his control splinter. He had never let anyone in—not like this—but somehow, she had found a way to slip through the cracks.
He told himself it was just physical. That he needed the release, that she was an addiction he could break whenever he wanted. But the more time passed, the more he found himself seeking her out. She was everywhere. In his office, in his car, in his bed. She had woven herself into his life without even trying, and he was starting to hate how much he craved her
Clementine wasn't blind to what this was. She knew it wasn't safe, that he wasn't the kind of man who gave anything beyond what was necessary. But she couldn't stop herself from craving him—his touch, his intensity, the way he unraveled her with nothing more than a look.
Clementine, on the other hand, was falling. Hard. She told herself she could keep it casual, that she could survive on the stolen nights and the heated glances. But every time Sebastian touched her, kissed her, took her apart piece by piece, she felt herself slipping further into something dangerous. He didn't make promises. He didn't tell her she meant anything. But he showed her—through the way he claimed her body, the way his hands lingered just a second too long, the way his lips brushed over hers after the frenzy had settled.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. But she would take whatever he gave her, even if it destroyed her in the end.
But something was changing.
She could feel it in the way his fingers lingered a little too long on her skin and his gaze softened for half a second before it turned unreadable again. And she hated how it made her heart twist, how a part of her wanted more even when she knew better.
Because this wasn't meant to be more. It was just supposed to be hunger.
And yet, that hunger was beginning to feel dangerously close to something neither of them were ready for.
