The morning after, I moved through the house like a ghost.
I woke up sore, my body still humming from what he'd done to me. Every nerve screamed with the memory of his tongue, his hands, the way he'd nearly pushed inside me before the phone had saved me.
Saved. Or cursed.
I couldn't decide which.
Either way, I couldn't look at him.
So I slipped out of bed early, showered fast, and padded downstairs, determined to get breakfast before he appeared. My hands shook as I poured cereal into a bowl.
The sound of footsteps made my heart drop.
Adrian.
I hunched over the counter, spoon clinking against the bowl, pretending to be busy. Maybe if I didn't look up, he'd pass by without a word.
But Adrian never made things that easy.
"Morning," he drawled, voice rough with sleep.
I froze, milk dripping from the spoon. "Morning," I muttered, eyes glued to the cereal.
He padded across the kitchen, bare-chested, sweatpants slung low on his hips. I caught the glimpse from the corner of my eye and instantly regretted it—heat surged in my stomach, traitorous and sharp.
"You're quiet today." His tone was lazy, but I could hear the smirk behind it.
I shoved another spoonful into my mouth, chewing fast. "Just tired."
He leaned against the counter beside me, arms crossed over his chest. His scent—clean soap mixed with something darker, warmer—flooded me, suffocating.
"Funny," he murmured. "You didn't sound tired last night."
The spoon clattered against the bowl. My breath caught.
Slowly, I turned to face him. His eyes glinted with amusement, dark and knowing.
"Shut up," I hissed.
He grinned, tilting his head. "What? Afraid someone might've heard you moaning my name?"
My face burned, shame twisting in my chest. "I said shut up, Adrian."
I shoved past him, desperate to escape, but his hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist. The same grip that had ruined me last night.
"You can run all you want, Lila," he said softly, voice deadly serious now. "But you can't escape what we both know you want."
My pulse thundered. I yanked free, retreating toward the stairs. "Stay the hell away from me."
But his chuckle followed me, low and dangerous, curling around me like smoke.
"Keep telling yourself that."
I stayed in my room for hours, trying to bury myself in a book, but every page blurred. All I could hear was his voice. You can't escape what we both know you want.
By late afternoon, hunger dragged me downstairs again. I prayed he'd be gone.
No such luck.
Adrian was sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, one arm behind his head. His abs flexed with every slow breath, the waistband of his sweats riding low, teasing me with more skin than I wanted to see.
His eyes lifted the second I stepped into the living room.
"Well, well. Look who finally came out of hiding."
I ignored him, heading straight for the kitchen. My hands shook as I opened the fridge, pretending to look for something. Anything.
But the air shifted behind me. Heavy. I didn't need to turn to know he was there.
"You've been avoiding me all day," he said, voice low in my ear.
I stiffened. "Don't flatter yourself."
His chuckle rumbled against my back as he leaned in, caging me against the fridge with his arms. "You think I didn't notice? Running upstairs, keeping your head down. Cute."
I spun, shoving at his chest. "Move, Adrian."
He didn't budge. His body was a wall—solid, hot, unyielding. His eyes burned down into mine, so dark they stripped me bare.
"You can lie to yourself all you want, Lila," he murmured, leaning closer, his breath ghosting across my lips. "But you can't lie to me."
"Get away from me," I whispered, but the fight in my voice cracked.
"Say it like you mean it," he challenged, his mouth brushing mine.
I pushed again, but weaker this time. My palms flattened against the hard plane of his chest, and all I could think about was how good he felt under my hands.
His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "That's what I thought."
Before I could speak, his hand slid down, gripping my hip, pulling me flush against him. My breath hitched.
I could feel him. Hard. Hungry. Pressing against me like a demand.
"Feel that?" he whispered, his voice rough. "That's not going away, no matter how much you hide."
My knees went weak. Heat surged between my thighs, betraying me all over again.
"Adrian…" My voice shook.
He kissed me then. Hard. Possessive. No hesitation, no restraint. My hands that should've pushed him away clung to him instead, fingers curling into his hair.
The world narrowed to his mouth, his taste, his heat burning into me.
His kiss consumed me, and before I knew it, my back hit the counter. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me like I weighed nothing, setting me down on the cool surface.
"Adrian—" I tried to protest, but it came out as a gasp.
"Shh," he muttered against my lips, kissing me harder. "You've been starving for this. Don't lie."
My legs parted without thought, wrapping around his hips. His body slotted against mine perfectly, every hard line pressing into every soft curve. I felt him throbbing through the thin fabric of his sweats, and it made my head spin.
His hand slid up my bare thigh, fingers pushing under the hem of my shorts. My breath hitched as he teased higher, brushing against the place I ached the most.
"God, you're already wet for me," he groaned, voice wrecked.
I shook my head weakly, heat flooding my cheeks. "No, I—I can't—"
"You can," he growled, nipping my neck. "And you will."
His fingers pressed against my core through the thin cotton, drawing a moan from my throat before I could bite it back. The sound seemed to snap something in him.
He shoved my shorts aside and slipped his hand inside, fingers sliding through slick heat. My nails dug into his shoulders as he stroked me, slow at first, then faster, until I was trembling and clutching him like he was the only thing keeping me upright.
"Adrian—oh my god—"
"That's it," he muttered against my ear. "Say my name while you fall apart for me. Say it."
I wanted to fight him, to tell him to stop, but my body betrayed me completely. The pressure built, hot and unbearable, and when his thumb circled just right—harder, faster—I shattered.
My cry echoed through the kitchen, muffled only by his mouth swallowing it in another bruising kiss.
I sagged against him, boneless, gasping for breath. But he didn't let go.
He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes dark and wild. "You think this is over?" His voice was low, dangerous. "I'm just getting started."
The sound of a car door slamming outside shattered the moment.
We froze.
Adrian pulled back, his chest heaving, eyes blazing with frustration.
"Mom?" I whispered, panic flooding me.
He smirked, but his jaw was tight, like he hated the interruption. "Guess you're saved again."
His hand lingered on my thigh one last time, possessive, before he stepped back, leaving me trembling on the counter.
"Don't think this changes anything," he warned, eyes locked on mine. "You're mine, Lila. Whether you admit it or not."
And then he was gone, leaving me wrecked, shaking, and terrified of how much I wanted more.
The knock at the door snapped me out of my daze.
"Lila? Adrian? You kids home?"
My blood ran cold. Mom.
Adrian just leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching me scramble like a deer caught in headlights. That damn smirk curved his mouth, the one that said he owned every second of my panic.
"Shit," I hissed, yanking my shorts back into place, smoothing my hair with trembling hands. My lips were swollen, my thighs still sticky, and I prayed she wouldn't notice.
Adrian didn't move. Didn't help. Just stood there, chest heaving, eyes devouring me like he wanted to drag me back onto the counter the second the coast was clear.
"Answer her," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. "Before she figures out why you're taking so long."
I shot him a glare, but my legs barely held me as I slid off the counter. My pulse hammered in my throat as I hurried to the front door.
Mom stood there with grocery bags dangling from her arms, smiling like nothing was wrong.
"Hi, honey! Surprise—I came back early. Thought I'd beat the traffic."
I forced a smile, praying it didn't look like a grimace. "Oh! Uh, yeah, great. Welcome back."
She stepped inside, brushing past me. "Where's Adrian?"
My stomach dropped, but before I could answer, he appeared in the hallway, looking perfectly calm—like he hadn't just had his hand buried inside me.
"Hey, Ma," he said smoothly, taking the bags from her arms with practiced ease. "You should've called. We could've picked you up."
Mom beamed. "Such a gentleman. Lila, isn't he wonderful?"
I nodded stiffly, my throat too tight to speak. My body still thrummed with the aftershocks of what he'd done, and now I had to stand here pretending we weren't burning in a secret fire inches beneath the surface.
As Mom bustled into the kitchen, chattering about traffic and sales at the market, Adrian glanced at me over her shoulder.
His tongue flicked out, slow, deliberate, tasting me off his lips one last time.
My knees nearly buckled.
I tore my gaze away, heart slamming against my ribs. But his whisper reached me anyway, carried on the hum of Mom unpacking groceries.
"This isn't over, Lila."