After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law

Damien stood outside the oak door of Room 121.

He didn’t even have the chance to raise his knuckles to the wood. He had barely slipped his phone back into his pocket when the brass handle clicked and the door swung smoothly open.

Aria stood in the threshold, a devastatingly beautiful smile playing on her lips. She had been watching the digital intercom, waiting for him.

Damien stopped dead in his tracks.

The harsh, fluorescent lighting of the hotel corridor spilled into the suite, fighting against the warm, amber glow of the dimmed lamps Aria had deliberately set. But it was the woman bathed in that low, sultry lighting that completely knocked the air out of Damien’s lungs.

Aria was wearing red.

It was a slip of a nightgown, crafted entirely from delicate, blood-red lace. It was practically transparent, clinging like a second skin to the soft curves of her hips and the swell of her breasts. The material stopped dangerously high on her thighs.

She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Her rose-gold hair cascaded down her bare back in a waterfall of thick, natural curls. A slight, warm flush dusted her cheeks, the undeniable evidence that she had already started on the minibar’s wine selection. Her lips were painted a bright, glossy cherry red.

She looked like unadulterated sin.

Damien’s eyes literally devoured her.

The rich, mouth-watering aroma of roasted garlic, aged parmesan, and black truffles wafted through the air, mixing intoxicatingly with the scent of her jasmine perfume.

Aria stepped forward, her delicate fingers wrapping confidently around the silk knot of his loosened tie.

”Are you just going to stand out there in the hallway?” Aria whispered, looking up at him through her thick lashes, her voice a soft, tipsy purr. ”Or are you going to get in?”

Damien didn’t say a word. He let her pull him forward.

Aria walked backward into the dim, warm suite, reeling him in by his tie with a slow, deliberate grace. Their eyes remained entirely locked on each other, the gravitational pull between them suffocatingly heavy.

The door clicked shut behind them.

”Are you hungry?” Aria asked, her voice breathy in the quiet room.

Damien let out a slow exhale. His gaze dropped from her cherry-red lips, traveling down the sheer crimson lace, lingering on the dark, shadowed outline of her center visible through the fabric.

”I am,” Damien admitted, his voice dropping into a rasp. ”But for you.”

Aria giggled, the wine giving her a sudden, liquid confidence. ”I’m for dessert.”

Damien stepped forward, his hands immediately grabbing her by the waist and hauling her flush against his solid frame.

Aria gasped as she collided with him. Through the thin red lace, she could instantly, undeniably feel the thick, rigid heat of his erection straining against the wool of his suit trousers.

Damien ducked his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin just below her jaw. He kissed his way down the column of her throat, his hot breath ghosting over her pulse point, drawing a sharp, breathy moan from her lips.

”Can I have a taste?” Damien whispered huskily into her ear, his teeth grazing her skin.

Aria giggled, a breathless, musical sound. She pressed her hands flat against his chest, gently pushing back. ”You shouldn’t spoil your appetite.”

Damien let out a low, frustrated groan.

His hand slid down from her waist. He bypassed the hem of the short lace gown entirely, his warm palm resting directly on her bare inner thigh. He let his thumb brush dangerously close to the slick, damp heat he knew was waiting for him.

”Please,” Damien pleaded.

Aria pulled back just a fraction of an inch, her emerald eyes dancing with wicked, tipsy mischief.

”You can have a taste of the cherry,” Aria offered softly. She lifted a perfectly manicured finger and tapped her own glossy, bright red lips.

Damien accepted the invitation without a microsecond of hesitation.

He crashed his mouth down onto hers. The kiss was ravenous, desperate, and tasted literally of sweet, artificial cherry gloss and rich red wine. Aria melted against him, her hands sliding up his chest to grip his lapels, opening her mouth to let his tongue sweep inside.

Damien groaned, his hands tightening on her thigh, fully intending to deepen the kiss and drag her backward straight into the bedroom.

Aria broke the kiss abruptly, slipping out of his hold.

”Ah ah,” Aria scolded playfully, backing away. ”I said a taste. Don’t be so greedy.”

Damien stood frozen, his chest heaving, his lips shining with her cherry lip gloss.

He watched as Aria sauntered away from him toward the living room couch. The sway of her hips under the transparent red lace. He felt like a starving man staring at a feast behind bulletproof glass. She was testing the absolute, frayed limits of his self-control.

Aria reached the plush sofa and sat down, tucking her legs underneath her. She patted the empty space beside her, offering him a sultry, expectant smile.

Damien swallowed hard. He shucked his suit jacket off, tossing it onto a nearby chair, and ripped his tie entirely away from his collar before walking over to her.

He sat down and effortlessly pulled Aria onto his lap.

”Is this my reward?” Damien asked as he looked at her.

Aria smiled, her hands resting on his broad shoulders. ”No. This is a celebration.”

She leaned over, reaching for the two crystal wine glasses and the half-empty bottle of vintage Cabernet resting on the small coffee table. She poured a generous splash into the empty glass and handed it to him.

”I made an epic comeback,” Aria declared softly, her eyes shining in the low light. ”So, we should celebrate.”

Damien clinked his crystal glass gently against hers. ”To the return of the Scarlet Queen,” he toasted.

They drank, the dark wine warming their blood.

Aria set her glass down and leaned forward, grabbing the food box from the table. She flipped the lid open. The steam rose instantly, carrying the rich, decadent scent of the Il Cigno kitchen. Aria had re-heated it in the microwave. ℯℯ𝑙.

There was only one silver fork and barely enough pasta to truthfully serve as a dinner for two, but they made it work.

Damien twirled a small bite of the rich, creamy carbonara onto the fork and held it up to her lips. Aria leaned forward, her eyes fluttering shut as she took the bite, the earthy, savory taste of the truffles melting on her tongue. She chewed slowly, a soft hum of approval vibrating in her throat.

When she swallowed, she didn’t pull away. She leaned in, pressing her lips to his, sharing the taste.

The rich flavors of garlic, parmesan, and truffles mixed seamlessly with the sweet cherry gloss and the tang of the red wine. They shared the meal forkful by forkful, the bites punctuated by deep, languid, open-mouthed kisses that grew sloppier and more desperate as the alcohol thrummed in their veins.

The heat between them built into a thick, suffocating tension.

When the food was done and the wine bottle was almost empty, they were both beautifully drunk and overwhelmingly horny.