The ride back to Ava's apartment was a silent battle of wills, the hum of the taxi's engine a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her. The unknown text He's a killer. Run. burned in her mind, its words looping like a warning siren. Julian sat beside her, his jaw tight, his phone dark in his hand as if he, too, felt the weight of the shadow closing in. The penthouse had been their playground, but now it felt like a trap, and Ava's badgirl instincts screamed to reclaim control. She glanced at him, his profile sharp against the city lights streaming through the window, and decided the game wasn't over it was just changing arenas.
When they reached her place, a modest loft in the East Village with exposed brick walls and a view of the fire escapes, Ava didn't invite him in. She didn't need to. Julian followed her inside, his Alpha presence filling the space as she tossed her clutch onto the counter. The air crackled with tension, the unspoken rules of their contract marriage bending under the pressure of his confession and the threat lurking beyond. She turned to face him, her red dress still clinging to her curves, her eyes narrowing.
"You're not staying unless you prove this is still just sex," she said, her voice a challenge, her Dominant streak flaring. "No more secrets fucking with my head."
Julian's smirk returned, but it was darker now, edged with the weight of his past. "Fair enough, Carter." He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm, then sliding up to cup her breast with a firm, possessive grip. The pressure sent a shiver through her, her breath hitching as he pulled her against him. His other hand found the zipper of her dress, tugging it down with deliberate slowness, the fabric pooling at her feet to reveal the black lace beneath. "Let's see if you can keep up."
Ava's heart pounded, but she met his gaze, her badgirl confidence unshaken. She pushed him toward the worn leather couch in the corner, her hands working his belt with practiced ease. "You talk too much," she muttered, shoving his pants down, her fingers grazing the scars on his thighs new marks she hadn't noticed before. He groaned, the sound raw, and before she could take the lead, he flipped her onto the couch, pinning her beneath him.
His hand tightened on her breast, kneading with a roughness that made her gasp, and then he was inside her, his penis sliding into her vagina with a deep, forceful thrust. Ava screamed, the sound a wild mix of pain and pleasure, her nails raking down his back as her body adjusted to the intensity. The pain was a sharp edge, a reminder of how far they'd pushed, but the pleasure followed fast, a tidal wave that drowned out everything else. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her voice breaking into moans as he moved, each thrust a claim and a challenge.
"Too much?" he rasped, his breath hot against her neck, his Alpha dominance surging as he set a relentless pace.
"Never," she shot back, her hands gripping his shoulders, her hips rising to meet him. The couch creaked under their weight, the leather slick with sweat, and the city outside faded into a distant hum. She reveled in the control she wrested back, guiding his rhythm, her body a weapon in their game. The pain ebbed, replaced by a pulsing heat that built with every movement, and she felt him tense, his groans mingling with hers.
They climaxed together, a shattering release that left them trembling, their bodies locked in the aftermath. Ava lay beneath him, her chest heaving, her mind a tangle of satisfaction and suspicion. Julian rolled to the side, his arm flung over his face, but she sat up, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover herself. The sex was still there, consistent and electric, but the stakes had shifted.
"Those new scars," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through her. "What happened?"
Julian's arm dropped, his eyes meeting hers, and for a moment, the Alpha mask cracked again. "After I left the firm, I went off-grid," he said, his voice low. "Hid in Eastern Europe for a year, took odd jobs security, smuggling, whatever paid. One gig went bad crossed a cartel. They didn't like losing their shipment. Left me for dead in a warehouse. Barely made it out." He traced a finger along a jagged line on his thigh, his expression distant. "That's when I decided to come back, build something legit. But they're still out there, and they've got long memories."
Ava processed the revelation, her mind racing. The killer label from the text made sense now a man who'd taken a life, even by mistake, haunted by the fallout. But the forbidden love tag gnawed at her; was it the brother he'd lost, or something else? "And the calls?" she pressed, her Dominant nature demanding answers.
"Check-ins," he admitted. "They want me back, or they want me gone. That text? Probably a warning from someone inside could be a friend, could be a trap. Either way, you're a liability now."
Ava's stomach tightened, but she masked it with a smirk. "I'm not some damsel, Pierce. I can handle myself." She stood, pacing to the kitchenette, pouring a glass of water to steady her nerves. The affair had morphed into something dangerous, the contract marriage of their deal now a lifeline in a game she hadn't signed up for. She glanced at him, his lean frame still sprawled on the couch, the scars a roadmap of survival. "So what's the plan? Hide? Fight?"
Julian sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Fight, if it comes to it. But first, we lay low. My place is compromised too many eyes. We use yours, keep it quiet. And…" He hesitated, his Alpha confidence faltering. "I need you to trust me, at least until we know who's watching."
Trust. The word hung between them, a forbidden love she wasn't ready to embrace. Ava leaned against the counter, her mind spinning. The sex was a constant, a tether, but now it was laced with risk. "Fine," she said finally. "But if this gets messy, I'm not cleaning it up alone."
He nodded, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Deal." He stood, adjusting his pants, and moved toward her, his hand brushing her cheek a touch too tender for their rules. She pulled back, her resolve hardening. "No strings," she reminded him, her voice firm.
"No strings," he echoed, but the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. As he left, the door clicking shut behind him, Ava's phone buzzed again. Another text: Meet me tomorrow. 10 AM. Central Park. Alone. The game was escalating, and the shadows of Julian's past were pulling her deeper into the fire.