Page 47 of Shattered Crown
I walked her backward until she hit the car. The impact made her gasp against my mouth, and I swallowed the sound, one hand bracing against the roof while the other stayed locked on her waist. She was trapped between cold metal and my body, and she didn't seem to mind.
The kiss was angry. Passionate. Years of animosity and tension channeled into something raw and consuming. She bit my lip, hard enough to sting, and I squeezed her hip in retaliation, my fingers pressing into soft flesh through the thin fabric.
She moaned. I growled.
She tugged at my hair, nails scraping against my scalp, and I returned the favor, fisting a handful of those dark curls and pulling her head back to expose the column of her throat.
It was a competition. Everything with Aria was a competition.
My hands started roaming. Past her waist, down to her thigh, hitching one leg up over my hip. The movement hiked her dress higher, and my fingers found bare skin above her knee—soft, smooth, burning hot. She made a sound that went straight to my manhood, her back arching off the car, her hips pressing forward.
I paused. Waited. Gave her a chance to push me away, to tell me to stop, to come to her senses.
She arched against me harder.
I slid my hand higher, fingertips tracing the curve of her thigh, and she gasped something that sounded like my name—not Sebastian, not Dubois, just a broken syllable that might have been either—and I was lost, completely lost, drowning in the taste of her and the feel of her and the sounds she was making against my mouth.
Then she shoved me.
Hard.
I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing on the sidewalk. Before I could recover, her hand connected with my face.
The slap rang out in the quiet street. My cheek burned. I pressed my palm to the spot, staring at her.
Aria stood against the car, chest heaving, hair wild around her face. Her lips were swollen, her dress rumpled, her eyes wide with something that looked like shock. Her hand—the one that had just struck me—lifted to touch her own mouth, fingers trembling against kiss-bruised skin.
We stared at each other.
I opened my mouth to speak. To say what, I didn't know. Apologize? Demand an explanation? Ask her why she'd kissed me back like she was starving for it, only to slap me the moment her brain caught up?
"Don't." Her voice came out raw, shattered. "Don't ever do that again."
She turned and walked away. Not toward the restaurant, or to get into the car—just away, her heels clicking against the pavement, her shoulders rigid, her dark hair swaying with each step.
I watched her go. The taste of wine and Aria lingered on my tongue. My cheek still throbbed where she'd hit me.
I had no idea what had just happened.
But standing there on that empty sidewalk, my heart still pounding, my body still aching with want, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
That would not be the last time I kissed Aria Kealoha.
The days that followed were an exercise in avoidance.
I sent Stuart to drop Evie at the foundation. Every morning, every pickup, I stayed in my office or my study or anywhere that wasn't within a ten-mile radius of Brooklyn.
If Evie noticed the change, she didn't say anything. Maybe she sensed something had shifted. Maybe she was just relievednot to witness another tense exchange between her father and the woman she admired. Either way, the silence suited me fine.
Work filled the hours. The Sterling acquisition demanded final revisions. The Chicago development hit another zoning complication. Board meetings blurred together, presentations delivered on autopilot while my mind wandered to places it had no business going.
Hawaii was tomorrow. The Kahale Grande. The meeting I'd been working toward for months. At least there, I could focus. Put an ocean between myself and the chaos I'd created.
I was reviewing the final Kahale documents when my phone rang. Mother's name flashed across the screen.
"Sebastian." Her voice was tight, clipped in that particular way that meant trouble. "There's been an emergency. Your grandmother needs to see you immediately."
Bloody hell. My heart dropped to my feet. I was already standing, reaching for my jacket. "What happened? Is she hurt?"
