Chapter 1

"Left bleeding at the altar, Serena rebuilds her empire—until billionaire twins appoint her as mommy. Can she trust their guarded CEO father? Or will old enemies destroy their second chance?"

Serena's POV

I awoke to a world bathed in heat and haze, my body a live wire humming with need. The room around me was unfamiliar-a luxurious hotel suite, dimly lit, with shadows dancing across the walls from a single bedside lamp. The vast bed beneath me had silk sheets that felt cool against my burning skin, a stark contrast to the fire raging inside. I shifted, and my own clothes-a soft blouse and tight jeans-clung to my curves, suddenly feeling too constricting, too tight. The blouse had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of my stomach, while the jeans hugged my hips and thighs, doing nothing to hide the hard peaks of my nipples or the insistent ache pulsing between my legs.

My head swam as I tried to piece together how I'd gotten here. Memories flickered like broken film-laughter, a crowded gala, the clink of a glass, someone handing me a drink. Then, darkness. Now, this: a stranger in an armchair across the room, his silhouette sharp against the glow of city lights seeping through a large window. He was watching me, his face half-hidden, but there was something about him-a flicker of recognition I couldn't grasp through the fog clouding my mind.

"Serena," he said, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver racing down my spine. "You're awake."

I tried to respond, but my throat was dry, my tongue heavy. "Who are you?" I managed, the words barely a whisper.

He rose and crossed the room, each step deliberate, until he stood beside the bed. Up close, he was striking-sharp jaw, piercing eyes, a body that promised strength beneath his clothes. "It's me," he said softly. "You don't remember?"

I squinted, searching his face, but the haze wouldn't lift. "I I don't know." My voice trembled, not from fear, but from the overwhelming desire surging through me. My skin prickled, hypersensitive; every breath I took seemed to stoke the fire in my core.

He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that I could feel his warmth. "You've been drugged," he explained, his tone gentle but strained. "Someone slipped something into your drink. I brought you here to keep you safe."

The words should have startled me, but they barely registered. All I could focus on was the need clawing at me, raw and relentless. My body didn't care about explanations-it craved touch, release, *him*. I reached out, my fingers brushing his arm, and the contact jolted me like a spark. I gasped, my chest heaving.

"I need" I couldn't finish, but my eyes locked with his, pleading.

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to where my blouse had shifted, revealing the curve of my waist, and the way my jeans accentuated my hips. "Serena, this isn't right. You're not yourself."

But his protest felt distant, meaningless against the tide of lust drowning me. I gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, my nails digging into the fabric. "Please," I begged, my voice hoarse. "I can't stand it. Help me."

For a moment, he resisted, his eyes searching mine, torn between restraint and something darker-desire, mirroring my own. Then, slowly, he leaned in, and his lips brushed mine. The kiss was tentative at first, testing, but I surged forward, hungry, desperate, and it ignited into something fierce. Our mouths clashed, tongues tangling, and I tasted the faint salt of his skin.

I tugged at his shirt, fingers fumbling with buttons until I could push it open, revealing a chest sculpted with muscle. My hands roamed over him, greedy, feeling the heat of him beneath my palms. He groaned into my mouth, and I felt the hard length of him pressing against me through his pants, a promise of what I craved.

He pulled back, breathless, his eyes dark with conflict. "Serena, are you sure? I don't want to take advantage-"

"I need you," I cut him off, my voice thick with want. "Please, don't make me wait."

With a low, defeated sound, he surrendered. He helped me out of my blouse, his fingers trembling as he undid the buttons, exposing the lace bra beneath. He sucked in a breath, his gaze fixed on the sight before him, and I arched my back, letting him see more. He deftly unclasped the bra, and my breasts spilled free, his hands immediately cupping them, kneading the soft flesh, thumbs grazing the sensitive peaks, drawing a moan from my lips.

Next, he worked on my jeans, peeling them down along with my panties, leaving me completely bare before him. His eyes raked over my body-my full breasts, the dip of my waist, the glistening wetness between my thighs-and I reveled in it, in being seen, wanted. "God, you're beautiful," he murmured, his voice raw.

His mouth found my breast, lips closing around a nipple, sucking gently as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud. I arched into him, a cry tearing from my throat as pleasure spiked through me. His hand kneaded my other breast, thumb circling the taut peak, and I writhed beneath him, the sensations too much and not enough all at once.

Then, he trailed lower, kissing a path down my stomach, his breath hot against my skin. He paused at the apex of my thighs, looking up at me, a silent question in his eyes. I nodded, frantic, spreading my legs wider, offering myself. His smile was wicked as he dipped his head, and when his tongue brushed my swollen clit, I nearly came undone. He licked me, slow and deliberate, tasting my wetness, then sucked gently, drawing a scream from my lips. His fingers joined in, sliding inside me, curling to stroke that perfect spot, and the world shattered.

I came hard, my body convulsing, waves of ecstasy ripping through me. But even as the climax faded, the drug-fueled fire raged on, insatiable. I needed more-I needed *him*.

I pulled him up, kissing him fiercely, tasting myself on his tongue. "Now," I demanded, breathless. "I want you inside me."

He settled between my legs, his cock nudging my entrance, slick with my arousal. He hesitated one last time, searching my face, but I locked my legs around his waist, urging him on. With a deep groan, he thrust into me, filling me completely. I gasped, my walls stretching around his thickness, the sensation exquisite and overwhelming.

He moved, slow at first, each stroke a delicious torment, then faster, deeper, as I met him thrust for thrust. Our bodies slapped together, the rhythm primal, the air thick with our gasps and moans. I clutched at him, nails scoring his back, lost in the feel of him-his hardness driving into me, the friction building me higher.

"Harder," I panted, desperate. "Don't stop."

He obeyed, pounding into me with wild abandon, the bed creaking beneath us. Pleasure coiled tight, a storm gathering in my core, and then it broke-a second orgasm, fiercer than the first, tearing through me like lightning. I screamed his name, though I still didn't know it, my body trembling as he followed, his own release spilling hot inside me, his groan echoing mine. But then a voice cut through the haze, sharp and grounding.

"Serena Serena."

I blinked, and the dim hotel room vanished. Bright lights flooded my vision, and I found myself back in the present, sitting in a cushioned chair with my makeup artist, Jen, peering at me. Her hand rested lightly on my shoulder, her brows furrowed with concern.

"Are you okay, Serena?" she asked, her voice soft but insistent.

My heart was still racing, the vividness of the daydream leaving me flustered. I felt a flush creep up my neck, and I quickly forced a smile to cover it. "I'm fine," I said, though my voice came out a little shaky. "Just drifted off for a second."

Jen tilted her head, studying me for a moment, but she didn't push. Instead, she picked up a lipstick tube and held it up. "Okay then, lipstick. What color are you feeling?" She paused, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "We might need to speed things up a bit-I don't want to keep your fiancé waiting too long."