Chapter Three

TRINITY

We reached Stephen’s booth, where we were greeted by four heavily tattooed guys, all exuding confidence, charisma, and a sense of tightly wound energy. They were almost as devastatingly good-looking as Stephen himself … almost~.~ Each of them gave off the kind of aura that demanded attention, the type that had people giving them a wide berth. There was something about them—about ~all~ of this—that hummed beneath the surface.

Stephen stepped aside, still keeping me tucked tightly into his side, his arm heavy and possessive around my waist. “Boys,” he began, tone smooth but edged with authority, “I’ve invited some friends to join us this evening—so best behaviour.”

A few chuckles passed between the group as they all looked up. Stephen turned toward me, guiding me even closer, the heat of his body radiating against mine.

“Trinity, Luke, Matt,” he said, “I’d like you to meet my best mate and business partner, Clint. Then there’s David and Chad—been with us for over seven years now—and Mike, who joined us about eighteen months back.”

Each man offered a nod or hand as we exchanged greetings. Their grips were firm, eyes sharp, but polite—like predators cloaked in civility. They shifted around the plush booth to make room for us, and we all slid in. Stephen took the inside seat beside Clint, tugging me in after him with ease, his hand never leaving mine. I ended up snugly seated between him and the curved arm of the booth, his thigh pressed warmly against mine. Luke and Matt took the opposite side, settling in as Mike, seated at the end, flagged down a member of the bar staff.

The waitress, a sleek brunette in all black, approached quickly, notepad ready and posture tight with the sort of efficiency that told me this wasn’t her first night dealing with high-powered clients. She took our orders with a nod and a practiced smile before disappearing into the crowd.

Everyone settled in comfortably, drinks on the way, conversation picking up naturally. Matt and Luke fell into banter with Clint and Mike, the four of them reconnecting over the property deal Matt had managed for Stephen last year. Their laughter floated up between sips of cocktails and clinks of glass. Meanwhile, Chad and Dave were focused on the hockey game playing out across the massive screen above the bar, yelling low curses and fist-pumping at near misses and goals. I found myself amused by their intensity—it gave a bit of boyish charm to otherwise imposing men.

But I wasn’t watching the game for long.

Stephen’s hand slid across my thigh, fingers curling lightly just above my knee. His touch was warm, confident—intentional. I glanced down as his thumb began tracing slow, deliberate circles on the sensitive skin inside my leg, the movement subtle but unmistakable.

My breath hitched, and I turned to look at him. His eyes met mine with a simmering heat that sent a rush of sensation through my chest. He knew exactly what he was doing. And judging by the way the corner of his mouth lifted, he knew the effect it was having on me, too.

“So,” he said, tone low and coaxing, “I know you work with Matt. Are you in sales as well?”

“No, actually,” I replied, doing my best to keep my voice steady despite the sparks igniting where his fingers touched me. “I work in our investor management department. I was recently promoted to Business Development Manager. Basically, I work with property investors to grow their portfolios—Luke and I partner on the rental and marketing side to secure tenants and manage the properties.”

Stephen’s brow arched, intrigued. “Refreshing.”

I blinked. “Refreshing?”

His body turned toward mine, the world behind us seeming to fade, as if we’d stepped inside a bubble of conversation no one else could enter. “Yes,” he said softly. “Not only are you breathtakingly beautiful, but highly intelligent. Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy—and rare—that combination is?”

His words poured over me like warm honey. Then I felt it: his hand slowly inched higher, fingertips brushing toward the hem of my dress. His touch was exquisite—delicate, almost reverent—and yet my entire body reacted like I’d been set ablaze. Goosebumps chased up my arms and across the back of my neck. The fluttering in my stomach returned with a vengeance, deep and delicious.

Our eyes locked again, the tension crackling between us. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but was promptly interrupted.

“Drinks!” The waitress announced cheerily as she arrived with a full tray.

Stephen cleared his throat with a quiet, low growl, his hand reluctantly sliding back to my knee. I exhaled a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

He handed me my drink, our fingers grazing. “To the night,” he said, lifting his glass.

“To the night,” I echoed, touching mine to his.

As the evening unfolded, the conversation grew livelier, and the drinks flowed like music through our veins. I learned that Stephen and Clint had known each other since they were five, growing up in the same neighborhood. They were more like brothers than friends and eventually went into business together. Chad and Dave had joined their circle in college, and the four had been inseparable ever since. Mike, while newer, fit seamlessly into their dynamic—quick-witted, and clearly respected.

“So, what kind of business are you in?” I asked innocently, curiosity piqued by the way they carried themselves—sharp, stylish, and always scanning the room like men who were used to watching their backs.

At my question, the mood shifted—so subtly, it might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But I felt it. A current of tension hummed under the surface.

Dave, Chad, and Mike all exchanged quick glances, eyes flicking toward either Stephen or Clint as if awaiting a cue.

Weird...

Before the unease could settle fully in my chest, Stephen spoke up with perfect ease. “We’re in imports and exports, doll. Mainly through Europe, although we’re looking to expand into South America soon.”

“Oh,” I nodded. “What imports do you deal with?”

Again, the atmosphere around the table shifted. Not enough to draw attention—but enough that I noticed Chad suddenly seemed more interested in the hockey replay, and Dave stared a little too hard into his drink. No one looked directly at me.

Stephen reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my cheek with intimate familiarity. Then he took my hand again and turned to Luke and Matt.

“Would you two mind if I borrowed Trinity for a moment?” His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the command behind the words. “Just to talk somewhere more private. I’ll have her back shortly—you have my word.”

Luke looked up with a smirk, clearly unbothered. “No problem. We’ll be here. I could use another drink anyway—how about you guys?”

A chorus of agreements followed. Mike waved the waitress back over as I rose from the booth with Stephen.

His hand slid into mine again, fingers interlocking as if they belonged there, and he led me through the sea of patrons and glowing lights toward the back of the bar. I glanced over my shoulder at Luke, who gave me a knowing look and mouthed, ~behave~. I almost laughed.

“Where are we going, Stephen?” I asked as we moved away from the main floor. “The entry and exit are in the other direction.”

Stephen didn’t break stride. “My office, doll.”

I blinked. “Wait. What? ~Your~ office?”

He glanced over his shoulder and shot me a devilish grin. “Did I not mention? I own Capulet.”

Before I could even process that, he reached for a sleek, dark wooden door, pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked it with a smooth flick of his wrist.

“After you,” he said, gesturing me inside.

I stepped past him cautiously, the air cooler and quieter on the other side. His hand brushed the curve of my hip, then came down with a playful but firm smack against my ass.

“Stephen!” I turned, half-scandalized, half-shocked.

But he was already shutting the door—and with a soft ~click~, locking it behind us.

I was still flustered from Stephen’s touch, my body buzzing and my mind not far behind. Slightly turned on and wholly overwhelmed, I gave myself a moment to collect my thoughts before turning around.

The moment I did, I felt him.

His presence—so close behind me—was a wave of heat that curled around my spine. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath just as Stephen’s hands settled gently on my shoulders. The weight of them was reassuring, grounding. My body relaxed into his touch.

As I leaned back against him, I felt his hands glide slowly down from my shoulders to my upper arms, fingertips feathering over my skin. Goosebumps erupted in their wake. A soft sigh escaped my lips—quiet, but unmistakable.

His hands continued down to my forearms, fingers grazing, then curling gently around mine. The scent of his cologne—wood, spice, a hint of something darker—hit my senses again, just before the heat of his body enveloped me fully. I felt his jaw brush the curve of my neck as he stooped, nudging softly against me, his scruff tickling my skin.

I tilted my head to the side, surrendering the space, granting him full access to the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

He didn’t rush. Didn’t press. He just breathed me in, his lips hovering close—so close I could feel their warmth dancing along the curve of my neck.

“Hi,” he whispered, voice low and textured like velvet on gravel.

A shiver ran down my spine. “Hi,” I echoed, leaning my head back against his solid chest, feeling every inch of his over-six-foot frame cradling mine.

“You really are,” he murmured, voice like a prayer laced in sin, “the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I whispered a soft ~thank you~, barely able to form the words as I melted further into him. I lifted our interlocked hands and guided them around my waist, wrapping his arms tighter around me, craving the warmth of his embrace.

We stood there in silence, breaths mingling, bodies pressed together in a quiet moment that felt suspended in time. The air between us was thick with unspoken things—desire, uncertainty, curiosity, longing. His chest rose and fell against my back in rhythm with mine, like we were syncing without even trying.

When I finally opened my eyes, I felt his lips graze the shell of my ear, followed by a low, husky growl rumbling deep in his throat.

His fingers gave mine one last squeeze before sliding free and finding my hips. With gentle insistence, he began guiding me to turn around.

I moved with him, breath shallow, and when we were finally face-to-face, I looked up into those impossible green eyes. His hands remained firm on my hips, grounding me, while mine found their way to his chest, gripping at the lapels of his jacket.

My eyes dropped—slowly—to his mouth. I bit my bottom lip without even realizing it, my mind spinning with a hundred versions of what it might feel like to finally taste him.

Stephen’s hand rose, fingers brushing my jaw before his thumb tilted my chin upward, bringing my eyes back to his. His gaze was molten.

“Kiss me, Trinity.”

My breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to say it—hadn’t expected the words to be spoken out loud. His eyes searched mine, watching every flicker of surprise, every shadow of hesitation.

“I want you to feel comfortable with me,” he continued, voice a whisper that clung to my skin. “I want you. I’ve wanted you the moment I saw you at Gilhooley’s. So if you feel this, feel what I feel—kiss me. Show me.”

My mind raced. How could this man—this stunning, commanding, sensual man—think I didn’t want him? From the first touch, my body had been aching. From the first glance, I’d felt pulled to him like gravity had chosen him just for me.

I slid my hands up the expanse of his chest and over his shoulders. Looking up, I locked eyes with him, reading the raw honesty in his gaze. I ran my nails lightly up the side of his neck and into the dark, soft hair at the nape. He swallowed hard; the motion dragging my eyes to the bob of his Adam’s apple.

Then, with deliberate tenderness, I tugged him downward—drawing him to me as I rose on trembling toes, heart pounding so loudly I swore he could hear it.

His arms wrapped around my waist, strong and sure, pulling me flush against him.

Our lips were so close I could taste the anticipation in the air—the faint warmth of scotch and spice lingering between us. My head tilted. And then—

We kissed.

Soft at first. Exploratory. Gentle, like a question hanging between us. But it didn’t stay soft for long.

Stephen deepened it with a low groan, his lips molding perfectly to mine. We moved in sync, tasting, learning, devouring. I felt every curve of his body against mine—his sculpted chest, his firm arms, the hard line of muscle beneath his clothes.

One of my hands tugged at his hair, fingers buried in the silk of it, while my other scratched gently down the side of his neck toward his collar. A soft moan escaped me before I could stop it, breathy and raw.

That sound—~my~ desire—sent something primal through him.

He responded instantly, claiming my bottom lip between his teeth and giving it a teasing, possessive tug. His hand slid lower, gripping the back of my dress and curling the fabric in his fist. Then he squeezed, his hand full of me.

“Ahh, Stephen,” I moaned against his lips.

Hearing his name from my mouth like that—needy, breathless—made him pull back just enough to look at me.

His eyes burned.

Then, with a growl of pure hunger, he crashed back into me, kissing me like a man starved. Our mouths opened, tongues tangling, tasting, chasing. Each movement was laced in desperation, in want, in something deeper neither of us dared name yet.

His hand slid up my spine, dragging heat in its wake, until it tangled in my hair. He gently pulled, angling my head back and breaking the kiss with a gasp.

I blinked up at him, dazed, flushed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling like I’d just run a mile.

His eyes searched mine, every part of him breathing hard, as if barely holding something back.

Then, finally, he whispered, voice hoarse and reverent: “~Wow.~”

My lips curled, pulse still racing, head spinning.

“Wow, indeed…”