"Show me how bed works."
Draven's voice cut through the heavy silence of the bedroom. It was calm.
Devastatingly calm. It was a tone that completely disregarded the wreckage he had left behind in the VIP room just hours before.
Before I could even process the words, his fingers closed around my wrist. Firm. Unyielding. With a single, effortless pull, he tilted my world.
My balance fractured, and I fell forward onto the mattress beside him. The old springs groaned beneath our combined weight—a sharp, metallic protest that echoed the sudden panic in my chest.
Too close.
The scent of him—expensive cologne laced with the suffocating aroma of the lounge's smoke and the heavy perfumes of the women who had swarmed him—flooded my senses.
It made my thoughts crowd together until I couldn't breathe. Instinctively, I recoiled, trying to wrench myself backward.
