Raine's dream ignited like a spark in dry tinder, pulling her into a world of heat and shadow. The room was bare, lit only by a flickering glow that cast Nick Montgomery's sharp features into stark relief. His dark hair was tousled, glasses slightly askew, and his arm—covered in swirling Greek tattoos—flexed as he stalked toward her. His eyes, dark and predatory, locked onto hers, and Raine's pulse thundered in her ears.
"Raine," he growled, voice thick with hunger. Before she could speak, he closed the distance, his hands rough as they seized her waist, pinning her against the wall. The cool surface bit into her back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressing against her. His lips claimed hers in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue, demanding everything she had. Raine moaned into his mouth, her hands clawing at his shirt, ripping it away to reveal the taut muscles beneath, his tattoos stark against his skin.
Nick's hands were relentless, tearing at her clothes with a ferocity that left her bare in seconds. His fingers dug into her hips, lifting her effortlessly, and Raine wrapped her legs around his waist, the friction of his jeans against her core sending jolts of need through her. "Fuck, you're perfect," he rasped, his breath hot against her throat as he nipped and sucked, leaving marks she'd feel even in the waking world.
He didn't wait, didn't tease. With a swift motion, he carried her to a low table, laying her down roughly, the wood creaking under her weight. Raine's hands scrambled for purchase as Nick shed his jeans, his arousal evident and unyielding. His tattoos seemed to writhe in the dim light as he loomed over her, one hand pinning her wrists above her head, the other sliding between her thighs, finding her already slick with want.
"Nick—" she gasped, but he silenced her with a thrust of his fingers, curling them inside her with ruthless precision. Her back arched, hips bucking against his hand as he worked her, his thumb circling her clit until she was trembling, on the edge of breaking. "Please," she begged, voice raw, and his answering smirk was pure sin.
He withdrew his hand, only to replace it with something far more overwhelming. Nick entered her in one hard, deep thrust, filling her completely. Raine cried out, the stretch and burn exquisite as he set a punishing pace, each movement deliberate and unyielding. The table rocked beneath them, her nails raking down his back, catching on the edges of his tattoos as she urged him on.
"Harder," she demanded, and Nick obliged, gripping her thighs to angle her just right, hitting spots that made stars burst behind her eyes. His glasses slipped down his nose, but his focus never wavered, his thrusts growing erratic as he chased their release. Sweat slicked their skin, the sounds of their bodies colliding mingling with Raine's moans and Nick's low, guttural curses.
The pressure built, coiling tight in her core, until Nick's hand found her clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts. Raine shattered, her orgasm ripping through her with a scream of his name, her body clenching around him. Nick followed moments later, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside her, his grip bruising as he rode out the aftershocks.
The dream blurred, leaving Raine gasping, her body humming with the echo of Nick's touch, his tattoos burned into her memory as the world faded to black.
The sunlight filtered softly through Raine's bedroom curtains, casting a golden hue on her sheets. She stirred awake, her breath shaky and her body warm with a slow, pulsing awareness.
She blinked, heart fluttering.
A dream clung to the edges of her thoughts—vivid, consuming. Nick Montgomery. His hand brushing her hip. The firm press of his body against hers in the shadows of Vaughn's sleek kitchen. His glasses off, his eyes darker, his voice low in her ear.
"Raine…"
She swallowed and sat up abruptly, dragging her fingers through her tousled hair. The sheets were twisted around her legs, her skin still tingling from the phantom sensations. Her cheeks flushed with heat.
What is wrong with me? she thought, burying her face in her hands.
It wasn't the first time she'd had dreams like this. But it was the first time the subject was someone real. Someone she'd met only once—professional, polite, and clearly off-limits.
Raine exhaled slowly and shook her head.
She had work to do.
Dragging herself out of bed, she went through the motions of her morning routine. Her uniform for today was simple but neat—light blouse tucked into dark jeans, clean white sneakers, and her hair pulled into a tight ponytail. She didn't want to give anyone reason to doubt her commitment.
Just as she tied the final knot in her shoelaces, a sharp double-honk outside caught her attention.
She peeked through the blinds. A sleek black SUV with tinted windows idled at the curb, the engine purring. A driver stepped out and nodded toward the house, holding the rear door open.
Raine's pulse skipped.
So this is real now. This is it.
She grabbed her small tote bag—packed with basic essentials, lunch, and her copy of the cleaning and cooking schedule Nick had given her—and made her way out the door.
The SUV's leather seats were cool against her jeans, and the interior smelled like cedarwood and something faintly expensive. The ride was quiet. Smooth. Almost too smooth, like gliding above the streets rather than on them.
Raine stared out the window as the city passed her by. Tall buildings gave way to tree-lined streets and ornate gates. Her thoughts wandered back to her dream, unbidden.
Nick's face hovered in her mind again, that focused gaze of his, the way the Greek tattoos on his right arm snaked beneath the sleeve of his shirt. It wasn't just the tattoos. It was the confidence. The control. And the unspoken mystery beneath it all.
She quickly shook the thought away.
This job was important. Her family depended on her. She couldn't get distracted—not by a man, not by a dream, not by anything.
The SUV turned a corner and slowed down, finally pulling up to the imposing gates of a high-walled estate. Wrought iron scrolled in intricate designs. The gate creaked open without a sound.
Raine's breath caught as the mansion came into view—sleek modern lines, glass walls, a trimmed lawn that looked like it had never known a weed in its life. It was like something out of a magazine. Or a movie.
The driver stepped out, opened the door, and nodded.
"You're here, Miss Callahan."
Raine nodded back, palms suddenly damp. She stepped out of the vehicle, heart pounding.
A tall figure waited at the open front door. Not Nick—but a different assistant. A woman in a neutral gray suit with a tablet in hand.
"This way," she said briskly, leading Raine inside. "We have you on schedule from eight to four today. Please follow the task list. Do not enter the second-floor east wing. Mr. Vaughn will be arriving this evening. Make sure the kitchen and main lounge are reset by three-thirty. Mr. Montgomery will check in at noon."
Raine nodded, taking it all in.
And so it began—her first day in the house of the devilish CEO she still hadn't met.
Still unsure if she was ready for everything that might come with this job.