Chapter 1: The Spark Ignites
Lila Voss wasn’t the kind of woman who waited for life to happen. At 28, she was a force—sharp-tongued, fiercely independent, and a graphic designer who could cut through bullshit faster than a blade through silk. She’d built her career on bold lines and bolder ideas, but her personal life? That was a canvas left untouched. Not by choice, but by sheer disinterest—until she met Jace Ryder.
Jace was the antithesis of everything Lila thought she needed. A freelance photographer with a devil-may-care grin, he sauntered into her studio for a collaborative project on a sultry Thursday afternoon. His leather jacket hung off broad shoulders, and his dark eyes seemed to undress her thoughts before her clothes. Lila noticed, and she hated that she did.
‘So, you’re the genius behind these designs,’ Jace drawled, leaning against her desk, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room. ‘I expected someone... softer.’
Lila arched a brow, her pen pausing mid-sketch. ‘And I expected a photographer who didn’t flirt with every surface he leans on. Guess we’re both disappointed.’
He chuckled, unfazed, his gaze locking with hers. ‘Oh, I’m not disappointed. I like a woman who bites back. Makes the chase... tastier.’
‘Chase?’ Lila snorted, standing to match his height, her heels clicking with authority. ‘Honey, I’m not a deer in the woods. If I run, it’s because I’m bored.’
Jace stepped closer, the air between them crackling. ‘Then let’s make sure you’re never bored, Lila. I’ve got a few ideas.’ His voice dropped, suggestive, and damn if it didn’t send a shiver down her spine.
She should’ve shut him down. Should’ve told him to take his smoldering looks and get the hell out of her space. But there was something about the way he looked at her—like she was a puzzle he was dying to solve—that made her curious. And Lila Voss didn’t do curious. She did control.
‘Ideas, huh?’ she countered, crossing her arms, her tone dripping with challenge. ‘I’m listening. But if it’s just cheap lines, save your breath. I’ve got better things to do.’
Jace grinned, a predator’s smile. ‘Oh, it’s not cheap. It’s raw. Real. I’m thinking we ditch the studio tonight. There’s a rooftop bar downtown—dark corners, strong drinks. I want to see if that fire in your eyes burns as hot as I think it does.’
Lila’s pulse quickened, but she kept her face a mask of cool indifference. ‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘Then I’ll light it myself,’ he said, his voice a promise, stepping so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. ‘I’m very good with my hands.’
Her breath hitched, just for a second, before she regained her edge. ‘Fine. One drink. But if you’re all talk, Jace, I’m out. I don’t play games with boys who can’t keep up.’
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he purred, his hand brushing her arm as he stepped back, leaving a trail of electricity. ‘I don’t just keep up. I lead.’
That night, the rooftop bar was a haze of neon and whispers. Lila wore a black dress that hugged every curve, not because she was trying to impress, but because she knew power when she saw it—and she wielded it. Jace couldn’t take his eyes off her, and she reveled in it, sipping her whiskey with a smirk.
‘You’re trouble,’ he said, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes tracing her. ‘I can tell. The kind of trouble I want to get lost in.’
‘Careful, Ryder,’ she shot back, leaning in, her voice a velvet blade. ‘I don’t get lost. I take prisoners.’
Their banter was a dance, sharp and electric, each word pulling them closer until the space between them was nothing but heat. When his hand found her thigh under the table, firm and unapologetic, Lila didn’t pull away. She met his gaze, her own hand sliding over his, guiding it higher.
‘You sure you want to start this?’ she whispered, her lips inches from his, her body already betraying her with a rush of warmth, wet and wanting. ‘Because I don’t stop once I’m in.’
Jace’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening. ‘Lila, I’ve been hard for you since the second I walked into your studio. Let’s stop pretending and burn this place down.’
Her laugh was low, dangerous, as she stood, pulling him toward a shadowed corner of the rooftop, the city lights a blur below. Their bodies pressed against the brick wall, his cock straining against his jeans, her pussy aching with a need she hadn’t known she could feel. His mouth crashed into hers, hungry, desperate, and she matched him, her nails digging into his shoulders, both of them sweating, panting, horny as hell.
This was no gentle introduction. This was a collision—and Lila Voss was ready to explode.
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