Chained To My Bad Boy's Wild Love

“Hey!” Esther shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of the rain around them.

Gaara had jolted awake only to seize her, dragging her into the sudden heat of his embrace.

Before she could form another word, he pushed her back until her spine pressed against the car. And then, without warning his mouth crashed recklessly against hers.

Esther’s breath caught, a sharp gasp trapped in her throat. She froze, wide-eyed, stunned by what had just erupted between them. Yet when his tongue pried at the seam of her lips, coaxing them open, an involuntary sound escaped her. A faint, helpless moan. The taste of him flooded in, sharp with alcohol, mingled with the lingering flavors of the meal they had shared.

At first, Esther was far too stunned to push Gaara away. Her mind reeled, her body frozen by shock. But within moments, she no longer cared about what was right or wrong. The intoxicating rush of desire swallowed her whole, blinding her to reason, stripping her of every logical thought.

Damn it! oh God… my first kiss.

Her inner voice screamed in disbelief. Never in her wildest imagination, she picture her first kiss unfolding like this: beneath a torrent of rain, her back pressed mercilessly against the cold metal of a car, while her lips were stolen by none other than Gaara Maxwell.

Gaara Maxwell, the name that carried the weight of every reckless whisper on campus. The notorious bad boy, wrapped in an aura of danger and temptation.

And yet here she was, kissing him back.

His hands, which had been braced firmly against her shoulders, began to drift lower, gliding down with deliberate slowness until they settled at the curve of her waist.

“Mmph…!” Esther gasped when Gaara pulled her hips closer, forcing their bodies to align with aching intimacy. The heat of his touch burned through the drenched fabric clinging to her skin, and before she could even catch her breath, his right hand slipped beneath the soaked knit of her thin sweater.

With practiced ease, his fingers found the clasp of her bra, undoing it as though the barrier had never existed. His hand slid further, bold and unyielding. First caressing, then tracing her trembling form with strokes that sent her spiraling.

“Ngh…” The sound escaped her throat, a trembling mix of desire and panic. The sensation was too wild, too consuming, and fear laced through the rush of pleasure. She was terrified that she would no longer be able to flee, terrified of losing control over the storm of responses Gaara was drawing from her as his kiss deepened, hotter, hungrier, demanding more of her with every stolen breath.

In the next heartbeat, Esther jolted violently. The thought struck her like a slap: He’s drunk. He’s aroused. And I’m nothing more than the woman who happened to be here.

That realization clawed through the haze of pleasure, dragging her back to herself, scattering the intoxicating storm that had been swallowing her whole. Her sanity snapped back into place. Summoning every ounce of strength, Esther shoved at him with trembling hands, but Gaara did not budge. His body was a wall, unyielding.

At last, sensing her resistance, Gaara lifted his head. Relief surged through her chest only for it to vanish a second later. Because instead of retreating, his lips merely found a new path, trailing along her jaw, brushing her chin, before descending lower to the curve of her neck.

Her breath hitched sharply. His left hand slid from her waist upward, gripping firmly as he tilted her head back, forcing her throat to the mercy of his lips. His right hand, still inside the damp barrier of her clothes, grew more insistent, bolder, wilder.

“Oh my God…” The words broke free in a whisper, her eyes lifting helplessly to the storm-darkened sky. Rain poured over her face, blending with the heat of her skin, and she clung to the rain she loved so dearly as if it could wash away the madness. This was insanity. She knew it. And yet her body melted beneath his touch, unraveling, powerless to deny the dangerous pleasure he ignited.

She was caught between terror and surrender. Her mind screamed no, while every nerve in her body betrayed her.

And then—

“HEY! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING OVER THERE?!”

The sharp voice of a woman cut through the thunder of the rain, and Esther startled as though struck. Gaara, too, flinched, and in that instant of distraction she seized her chance shoving herself free from his grasp.

In a blur, Esther scrambled to fix her clothes, though there was little she could truly mend. Her sweater clung to her skin, drenched and disheveled, the fabric already ruined by the relentless downpour. Her trembling fingers tugged at the edges, desperate for modesty, desperate to erase the traces of what had almost happened.

“Gaara, you… you should go inside.” Her voice came out in a thin, shaky whisper, barely audible over the rain. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Shame burned too hot in her chest, too raw to endure. So instead she pressed her hands against his back, urging him forward, guiding him up the steps toward the waiting door.

And there, framed in the doorway stood a girl.

She was petite, her damp shoulder-length hair plastered against her cheeks, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her face was flushed, a conflicted storm of anger and embarrassment coloring her expression.

Esther’s stomach dropped. She knew, without a shred of doubt, that the girl had seen every reckless, humiliating fragment of what had just taken place in the rain.

“Who are you?” the girl demanded sharply, her voice cutting like a blade as her eyes locked on Esther. “Are you Master Gaara’s girlfriend?”

“No… I’m not…” Esther stammered, her thoughts still in disarray, her chest rising and falling as though she hadn’t yet escaped the storm of what had just happened. Her lips still burned from the reckless kiss Gaara had stolen, and the memory of it tangled her words. “I… I’m just a friend. From campus.”

Gaara, however, paid no attention to the brown-haired girl at the door. Without a word, he stepped past her and into the house, his hand still clasping Esther’s tightly, dragging her along in his wake.

“H–Hey! I have to go home,” Esther protested, tugging at her wrist in a futile attempt to free herself.

“WHAT? HOME?” the girl’s voice rose again, so loud it made Esther flinch. She blinked at her, startled, wondering if screaming was some sort of strange habit of hers.

“Yes… my house isn’t fa—”

“With clothes like that? In this weather? Do you want to catch pneumonia?” the girl snapped, cutting her off before she could even finish. She shook her head with a finality that brooked no argument. “No. Absolutely not. You’re staying here tonight.”

“Ha?” Esther blinked, dumbfounded, the single syllable slipping out before she could think.

Esther couldn’t begin to comprehend the way this girl’s mind worked. Only moments ago, she had looked at her with suspicion, brimming with hostility—as though she despised Esther for even standing near Gaara. Hadn’t she been furious after witnessing that reckless kiss? And yet now, she was insisting Esther stay the night? The contradiction was dizzying.

Without waiting for a reply, the girl shut the door firmly, then turned back and slipped her hand around Gaara’s arm, tugging him away from Esther as though staking a claim. “You wait here for a while,” she said curtly, her tone clipped and authoritative. “I need to take care of Master Gaara first. I’ll bring you a towel later.”

Gaara, without protest, loosened his grip on Esther’s hand and allowed himself to be led upstairs. His tall figure followed obediently as she guided him toward the grand staircase. Its polished steps sweeping upward, no doubt leading to a private bedroom above.

Esther’s mouth opened in protest, but before she could summon the words, they were already gone, swallowed by the silence of the house. She stood frozen in place, her damp clothes clinging to her trembling body, her heart pounding far too loud in her chest.

Her hand drifted upward, almost without her realizing, fingertips brushing against her lips. They were swollen, tender, still tingling from the reckless heat of Gaara’s mouth. The memory of his kiss struck her all over again, and her face flamed red, the realization burning her like fire.

She had just lost her first kiss.

The thought made her stomach twist. Would this change everything? Would it haunt her in the days to come, shape her reputation, stain her social life? What would her father say if he knew his daughter had not only given away her first kiss so recklessly, but was now spending the night in another man’s house. 

A man’s house?

A shiver ran through her. Esther wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering at the weight of it all. The storm outside still raged, but the storm inside her was far more unsettling.

“You can use this towel to dry yourself,” the feminine voice rang out again.

Esther looked up and saw the same girl from before, now holding out a towel toward her.

“Thank you,” Esther murmured, hesitating as she accepted it. “But actually… my house isn’t far. It’s just down the street. So I won’t be stayi—”

“No way!” the girl cut her off sharply, leaving no room for negotiation. “I’ve already called Ms. Amber. The moment I described you, she said you must spend the night here.”

“What?” Esther blinked, caught completely off guard. Amber Maxwell knows me?

She couldn’t recall ever meeting the world-renowned supermodel in person. Not once. But as the thought circled, a possibility tugged at her mind. Perhaps Amber knew of her through her father.

“Ms. Amber doesn’t take no for an answer,” the girl added, flashing Esther a grin that felt far too mischievous for the situation.

“By the way, my name’s Stella. I’m Master Gaara’s assistant while Ms. Amber is abroad,” she explained, extending her hand. Esther, though still reluctant, took it politely.

“Esther,” she replied softly.

Strangely, Stella didn’t seem half as fierce as she had at the front door. Now her gaze lingered, assessing Esther as though trying to unravel her, to weigh her worth.

“I’ll show you to the guest room,” Stella offered, already turning on her heel. Esther hesitated before following, her steps uncertain. Stella must have sensed it, because she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Looks like you’ll need a change of clothes, too.”

“That’s not necessary, I—”

“You can’t seriously think of sleeping in wet clothes. Or worse, nothing at all.” Stella gave a playful wink before Esther could finish. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

And with that, Stella quickened her pace, leading the way through the grand hallway toward the guest quarters. Esther trailed behind, her mind buzzing with thoughts that tangled and refused to settle.

Her first overnight stay in someone else’s house and of all places, it had to be Gaara’s.

How on earth had it come to this?