The distant noise of passing cars was the only sound Denisse could hear inside the car that had been handed to her. She sat behind the wheel, hands resting lightly on it, but for a moment she couldn't bring herself to start the engine. She was still too stunned.
A car? Lesley gave her a car?
At first, she thought it might simply be a company vehicle, something temporary for work. But the color… it was her favorite. That detail made her chest tighten with unease.
Denisse finally inhaled slowly and turned the key. The engine came to life with a quiet purr.
No, she decided. She needed to talk to Lesley about this and return the car. If this was meant as a gift, it was far too much.
Pulling out onto the road, she drove through the night, the city lights sliding past the windows.
Less than twenty minutes later, she slowed to a stop in front of Lesley's house. The engine idled softly as she stared at the familiar place, gathering the courage to step out and confront her.
Denisse climbed out of the car and shut the door a little harder than she intended.
The sound echoed through the quiet street.
She immediately regretted it.
Not because of the noise.
Because her nerves were already stretched thin.
The key felt unusually heavy in her hand as she stared at the house.
Warm light glowed from several windows. The familiar sight should have been comforting.
Instead, it only reminded her why she was there.
A car.
An actual car.
Who gave someone a car so casually?
Lesley Ashford, apparently.
Denisse exhaled sharply and headed for the front door.
The moment she stepped inside, the silence of the house wrapped around her.
No television.
No music.
Just the faint hum of the air conditioning somewhere deeper in the house.
"Ms. Ashford?"
No answer.
Denisse kicked off her shoes near the entrance.
"Lesley?"
Still nothing.
She walked farther inside.
The scent of something fruity drifted through the air.
Wine.
The realization led her toward the kitchen.
Or more specifically—
The bar area.
And the moment she rounded the corner, she stopped.
Completely.
Her brain forgot what it was doing.
Lesley stood behind the marble bar counter with her back partially turned.
One hand held the neck of a wine bottle while the other steadied a crystal glass beneath it.
Deep red wine flowed smoothly into the glass.
The scene itself wasn't unusual.
The woman standing there was.
Gone was the tailored suit.
Gone was the crisp blouse.
Gone was the composed CEO uniform Denisse had become accustomed to seeing every day.
Instead, Lesley wore a silk nightdress that skimmed elegantly along her figure.
Dark fabric hugged her waist before falling softly toward her knees. Thin straps rested against her shoulders, exposing more skin than Denisse was prepared for.
The soft lighting from above cast warm highlights across her bare arms and collarbone.
For a moment, Denisse simply stared.
Then immediately looked away.
Then accidentally looked back.
Her heartbeat betrayed her.
Lesley glanced over her shoulder.
Their eyes met.
A small smile touched her lips.
"You know, most people knock before entering," Lesley remarked, her voice a low, melodic drawl that seemed to vibrate against the stillness of the room.
Denisse tried to steady her breathing, desperately fighting the urge to let her gaze linger on the way the silk nightdress draped over Lesley's frame. It was a dangerous distraction. She walked to the marble bar counter, her footsteps clicking sharply against the floor, and set the car key down with deliberate, shaking care.
"I cannot accept this," Denisse said, her resolve brittle.
Lesley raised a perfectly groomed brow, a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She took a slow, measured sip of her wine, savoring the silence before she finally spoke.
"Why not?"
"Because it's a car, Lesley."
"Yes."
"A whole car."
"Still yes."
Denisse stared at her, the infuriating calmness of Lesley's movements nearly driving her to the brink. "Lesley!"
The sharp sound of her name drew only the faintest reaction—a slight sharpening of Lesley's gaze, nothing more.
"You cannot just give me a car," Denisse insisted, her chest tight.
"I already did."
"That's not helping."
A smirk finally broke through, and Lesley pointed accusingly at the key. "So what then? You'd rather let other people drive you home instead of accepting my gift?"
The memory of Denver's offer to drive them home came rushing back, and the sudden realization made Denisse pause.
"Wait… are you serious? Are you jealous of him?"
Lesley didn't answer. She simply tipped her glass back, her eyes remaining locked on Denisse with unblinking intensity.
"Look, he just happens to live near our—"
Lesley lifted a finger and gently pressed it against Denisse's lips, silencing her.
"Can't I spoil my girl?" she asked, her voice dipping into a velvety murmur that sent a shiver across Denisse's skin.
Lesley glided the rim of her wine glass slowly along Denisse's arm, the cool crystal contrasting sharply with the sudden, frantic heat blooming beneath Denisse's skin. Lesley leaned in, her warm breath ghosting against Denisse's ear as she whispered, "I'm not the jealous type—but what is mine is mine."
The words sank deep, heavy with a possessive, unyielding weight that ignited a fire low in Denisse's stomach. She felt her resolve dissolve, leaving her breathless.
"Lesley…" she breathed, the protest dying on her lips.
The tension in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lesley reached one strawberry on the bowl near them, trailing it slowly through the bowl of rich, melted chocolate. She brought the fruit to her lips, licking a stray drop of sweetness before taking a deliberate, slow bite. The air seemed to hum with anticipation as she held the remaining half toward Denisse.
Denisse hesitated for a heartbeat, her pulse fluttering against her throat, before she finally leaned in to take the bite. She chewed slowly, her eyes locked onto Lesley's.
Lesley reached out, her finger tracing the corner of Denisse's mouth, leaving a deliberate smudge of chocolate on her skin. Denisse reacted instantly, lifting her thumb to wipe away the stain. But before she could pull her hand away, Lesley caught her wrist, pinning it in place. Lesley didn't blink, her gaze intense and predatory, as she brought Denisse's thumb to her own lips.
Denisse let out a sharp, ragged gasp, swallowing hard; whatever game Lesley was playing, it was driving her to the brink of madness. As Lesley began to suck the chocolate from her skin, Denisse's resolve crumbled, her teeth unconsciously grazing her lower lip.
When Lesley finally released her hand, she didn't step back. Instead, she gripped Denisse's waist, effortlessly lifting her and setting her onto the granite counter. Lesley stepped between her spread legs, invading her personal space until there was nowhere left to run.
Lesley cradled Denisse's face in her palm, her thumb caressing the flushed skin. She leaned in, her breath hot against Denisse's ear as she whispered, "And you are mine."
Denisse's eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation, but the moment was shattered by the cold splash of liquid against her skin.
"Oops," Lesley murmured. She had tipped her wine glass, pouring the dark liquid directly over Denisse's neck and shoulder, soaking through the fabric of her blouse.
"Lesley..." Denisse breathed, more breath than word.
Lesley's smile was sharp, hungry, and entirely unrepentant. "I think wine is notoriously difficult to get out of white silk," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register.
With a sudden, decisive movement, Lesley gripped the fabric of Denisse's shirt and ripped it apart. Buttons clattered against the floor like hail as the blouse fell away, leaving Denisse's chest exposed. Without a second's hesitation, Lesley leaned in, her tongue tracing the hollow of Denisse's neck to lap up the spilled wine, tasting the salt of her skin beneath the vintage red.