CHAPTER 4: The Rude Stranger

Dominic's POV

I blinked, stunned into silence. What the hell was she doing here?

She swayed slightly as she stumbled into my space clutching a bottle of wine.

"Wow," she slurred, leaning heavily against the doorframe. Her gaze raked over me slowly, and for the first time in my life I felt itemized by a woman's gaze. "You have a great ass."

Her words pulled me from my shock. "Excuse me?" I said, my voice sharp.

Ignoring me, she staggered forward, her steps uneven. The bottle in her hand tilted precariously, and for a second, I thought she might spill its contents on the expensive rug beneath her feet.

I reached for the phone on the bedside table, disgust rising in me. "You need to leave. Now," I said firmly as I began dialing for security.

She stumbled closer, her movements slow but deliberate. "Oh, come on," she drawled, her lips curling into a lopsided grin. "Don't be boring. Have a drink with me."

Before I could react, she lunged forward and yanked the cord of the phone from the wall. My jaw tightened as I dropped the receiver, meeting her glassy eyes with a glare.

For someone who was drunk, she sure as hell had quite the amount of balance.

"You're drunk," I stated coldly. She needed to get the hell out of here. "And you're in the wrong room."

If this was some sort of game—a plot to get me into some scandal, it wouldn't work. Sure, ladies have tried their luck in the past, but never to such extreme extent. This was new.

But what if it wasn't an act?

She tilted her head, looking at me as if I were the one acting strangely. Her gaze dropped again to my chest, and she smiled, this time more openly.

"You've got quite the body," she said, her voice softening into something almost sensual. "You'd have a great ass."

The audacity of this woman left me momentarily speechless. I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping the gesture would discourage her from continuing.

"Leave," I repeated, my tone like ice. "Immediately."

But she didn't listen. Instead, she stepped closer, her free hand reaching out toward me. Instinctively, I grabbed her wrist before her fingers could make contact.

The touch startled her, and for a brief moment, her gaze seemed to clear. Then she giggled—a sound that grated on my nerves. And then she lunged at me; her body pressed against mine tightly, provocatively.

"Let go of me," I snapped, grabbing her arms. My grip tightemed slightly as I tried to put distance between us. But she stumbled again, her weight throwing me off balance and backing me against a wall.

Her scent hit me—an intoxicating mix of wine and something floral, like jasmine, confirming that she was truly drunk. I caught myself staring at her face for the first time, really looking at her.

Despite her disheveled state, there was an undeniable beauty to her—soft, full lips, a delicate nose, and eyes that sparkled even in her drunken haze. Her skin was flushed, likely from the alcohol, but it added a warmth to her features that was…distracting.

Distracting enough to make me hesitate. Taking advantage of my distracted state, her free hand reached for my towel, and before I could stop her, she tugged. I froze, the air between us shifting as the towel slipped slightly. Her eyes widened in mock surprise as she stared unabashedly, her gaze darkening with something that sent a ripple of heat through me.

Fucking hell....

Her body pressed against mine, warm and impossibly soft, her full boobs molding to my chest like she was made to fit there. My breath hitched as her scent wrapped around me—jasmine with a trace of wine, sweet and heady, sinking into my skin.

Her lips parted slightly, the faintest tremble in them as she tilted her head back. Those eyes—bright, wild, and glazed—held mine, pulling me into a haze I didn't want to admit existed. Her breath, warm and unsteady, brushed against my neck, sending an involuntary shiver through me.

"Impressive." She breathed. "You're a god."

What the fuck was going on?

I snapped back to my senses at once and any flicker of attraction I might have felt vanished instantly. My jaw clenched, and irritation surged through me. I pushed her off me quickly and straightened up, stepping back to secure the towel around me again.

"That's enough," I said, my voice dangerously low.

She tilted her head, her smile unfazed. "Oh, don't be so uptight," she teased, swaying slightly as she tried to maintain her balance. "It's just a bit of fun."

"Fun?" I repeated, incredulous. "Breaking into a stranger's room, stripping him, and making crass comments is your idea of fun?"

She laughed—a soft, husky sound that grated on my last nerve. "Don't pretend like you're not turned on."

I watched her lips curve into a mischievous smile, but I wasn't playing her game anymore. I turned my back on her, grabbing a pair of pants from the chair and stepping into them swiftly.

When I faced her again, she was watching me with an expression that was equal parts amusement and challenge.

"You looked better without the pants," she slurred, her voice dipped to a sultry tone. "A lot better. Take them off."

I didn't dignify her with a response. Instead, I grabbed her arm, guiding her firmly toward the door, and her alcohol-numbed fingers released the bottle she was holding. For a split second, the air seemed to hold its breath. My hand shot out, catching it just before it could shatter against the floor.

I grabbed her hand once more, closing her fingers around the bottle's neck, and resumed guiding her towards the door.

"This is over," I said as I opened it, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She stumbled slightly but didn't resist. As I closed the door behind her, I leaned against it, letting out a long breath.

My pulse was racing, and the scent of jasmine lingered in the air, mocking me. She'd left a mark—a chaotic, maddening impression I couldn't shake.

What the hell just happened?