Ex- fiance's Regret 1-3

"Are you sure about this?" Luthor asked, his voice low and vibrating with a tension that matched the hum of the city outside his car windows.

Sharon looked at him, her heart doing a nervous dance in her chest. "I'm sure," she whispered.

She hardly knew herself in this moment. A one-night stand? That wasn't Sharon Spark. She was the girl who stayed, the girl who invested years into "forever," the girl who had just been dismantled by a man who didn't think she was worth a commitment. Pete had treated her like a "maybe" for two years, and the sting of that humiliation was still a fresh wound.

But Luthor looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. Even if it was only for tonight, the way his summer-sky eyes tracked her every movement made her feel like she finally occupied the spotlight in her own life.

They drove through the Los Angeles night with the windows down, the warm air whipping her dark hair into a frenzy. Luthor reached over, his hand sliding up her leg before intertwining his fingers with hers. His touch was warm and steady. His car was expensive, a sleek machine that hummed with power, yet he didn't flaunt it. He didn't use his status to make her feel small; he used his presence to make her feel chosen.

Luthor was a stranger, and Sharon knew that going home with strangers was a recipe for trouble. But as she watched the city lights blur, she realized that she hadn't really known Pete either. She had spent two years with a man who could discard her over pub food. Luthor, in just a few hours, seemed to see the artist, the woman, and the fire beneath her shy exterior.

When they arrived at his apartment, he opened the door and ushered her in. Sharon stepped onto the polished hardwood and let out a soft breath of awe as he flicked on the lights.

"Oh," she said, spinning in a slow circle. "This definitely doesn't look like student housing."

Her own apartment was a battleground of water-stained ceilings and a front door she had to shoulder-check just to open. Luthor’s home was a sanctuary of minimalist designer furniture and the scent of expensive cedar and masculine cleanliness.

Luthor chuckled, watching her reaction with a playful glint in his eyes. "It’s not much, but it’s home for another forty-eight hours."

"If this is your idea of 'not much,' I'm terrified to see what you'll consider a palace when you're a business mogul," Sharon joked, stepping out of her coat.

Luthor caught the fabric before it could slip, his fingers brushing her shoulders. "You really think I'm going to be a mogul?"

"I think you're going to be whatever you decide to be," she said, turning to face him.

He looked the part already. He had a commanding air that felt like a physical weight in the room. He cupped her cheek, his face hovering inches from hers, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

"You're staring again," he murmured.

"You're distracting," Sharon countered, her voice sounding small and breathless even to her own ears.

Luthor didn't laugh; he just leaned in and claimed her lips. The kiss was a seismic shift from the one in the café. It was deeper, hungrier, fueled by the privacy of the apartment and the knowledge of what was coming. He pressed the length of his body against hers, and Sharon could feel the hard evidence of his desire straining against his trousers.

She wanted him. She wanted the confidence, the heat, and the way he seemed to bridge the gap between her heart and her body. A blaze ignited in her gut, a heavy, pulsing ache that told her she was already more than ready for him.

Luthor broke the kiss for a heartbeat, his eyes dark with a primal intensity. "Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Water?"

Sharon shook her head, her hands finding the buttons of his shirt. "I don't want a drink, Luthor."

He let out a low, rough growl of approval and scooped her up. Sharon yelped in surprise as her feet left the floor, but she immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms locking behind his neck. He bore her weight easily, his muscles bunching under her touch as he carried her into the bedroom.

The room was bathed in the amber glow of the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn't turn on the overhead light. He laid her back onto the silk sheets, his body following her down in one fluid motion.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered, his fingers tracing the contours of her face before moving down to the hem of her shirt.

He pulled the fabric up, exposing the lace of her bra, and bent his head to her chest. He kissed the swell of her breasts, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. Sharon reached back, unhooking the lace and letting the garment fall away. For a fleeting second, shyness gripped her. She was nearly naked before a man she had met only hours ago.

Luthor seemed to sense her hesitation. He pulled back, his gaze roaming over her with a reverence that felt almost holy. "Don't hide," he said, his voice a command and a plea. "You are absolute perfection, Sharon."

He leaned forward, his hand capturing her breast, his thumb rolling over the peak until she let out a jagged moan. The sensation sent a direct current to the ache between her thighs. He replaced his hand with his mouth, sucking and tonguing her until Sharon was arching her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

She felt lost in the fog of him. He made her feel incredible, erasing every cold word Pete had ever said with the sheer heat of his touch. They hadn't even cleared the boundary of their clothes yet, but Sharon was already consumed.

Luthor moved down her body, his kisses trailing over her ribs and her belly. His fingers moved with lightning speed to unbutton her jeans, slowly peeling them down her legs as if he were unwrapping a gift he had waited a lifetime to open.

His hands were seared into her skin as he mapped the length of her thighs. He opened her legs, his hot breath fanning across her, and Sharon could only gasp his name as the world narrowed down to the touch of the stranger who felt like her destiny.

"Luthor, please," she begged.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes glowing in the dark. "I've got you, Shari. I've got you."