Page 45 of Siren

Lighting glowed amber from recessed strips hidden in the ceiling, casting the whole place in a hush. Every detail whispered that he knew beauty—had studied it, trusted it, touched it often.

Taraj dropped his keys in a black stone dish by the door still carrying that delicious restraint that made my thighs press together just to survive him.

I looked at him—reallylooked.

Hair loose from his braids—he took them out on the flight. Chestnut brown skin golden under the low lights.

That mouth—thesame one that made me cum so hard I forgot my name. And those eyes? Already undressing me again. Like memory wasn’t enough. He needed more.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, heading toward the kitchen.

“Water’s fine.”

I followed and stayed on the other side of the island like that slab of stone could protect me from what we both knew was coming.

He passed me the glass. Our fingers brushed. And just like that, my pussy pulsed. No warning. No finesse. Just raw need, curling in my belly like smoke.

Still, we danced around it.

The want. The danger. The lie we’d both agreed to that was unraveling with every second we were alone.

“I came to hear more of your work,” I said, lips brushing the rim of the glass.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. Stayed there.

“Right. Studio’s in the back.”

But neither of us moved.

“That’s where the magic happens?” I asked, voice light even though my pulse wasn’t.

His dark eyes pinned me in. Reading me. Knowing me. “Some of it.”

We both knew we weren’t talking about the booth.

He set down his drink. Rounded the island.

Stopped in front of me—all heat and quiet pressure.

“You good?” His voice was deep enough to stir something slick and messy between my thighs.

I nodded, no more pretending. “Yeah.”

He stepped closer. So close I had to tilt my chin to meet his gaze.

“So if I kissed you right now…”

A pause. A breath.

“You wouldn’t stop me?”

I licked my lips. “No. I’d kiss you back.”

Why lie, when the truth tasted better?

He didn’t wait. His mouth found mine like it belonged there.

He kissed me like he’d been starving since the second I left his bed. And I kissed him like I was still wet from the memory of his tongue.

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