CH. 4

I woke to sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, disoriented and groggy.

For a moment, I didn't remember where I was.

Then it all came rushing back. Adrian. The penthouse. The kiss in the car.

I sat up, my heart sinking as I realized I was still alone. He hadn't come back.

The clock on the nightstand read 7:14 AM.

I had forty-six minutes to get ready.

I stumbled into the bathroom, my body protesting every movement. The bruises on my ribs throbbed with each breath.

I caught my reflection in the mirror and barely recognized myself. Tangled hair, dark circles under my eyes, a fading bruise on my cheekbone that makeup could only partially hide.

I looked like what I was: a girl running from something.

The shower was massive, all glass and chrome, with water pressure that felt like heaven. I stood under the spray longer than I should have, trying to wash away the confusion and shame clinging to my skin.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, I opened the closet.

The clothes were still there. Designer labels, perfect sizes, tags attached.

I chose a simple black pencil skirt and a cream silk blouse with a high collar that would hide the marks on my throat.

The fabric felt like water—so different from the cheap polyester I was used to.

I was just finishing my makeup when I heard movement in the penthouse.

Adrian was back.

My pulse jumped.

I forced myself to take a breath, then another. I couldn't let him see how much power he already had over me. I couldn't let him see the girl who had spent the last two years dreaming about him.

I stepped out of the guest room and followed the sound of movement to the kitchen.

Adrian stood at the counter, dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

He was making coffee, his movements efficient and controlled. He looked up when I entered, his gaze traveling over me slowly. Assessing.

"Not bad." It wasn't praise. It was observation.

I didn't respond.

Adrian poured two cups of coffee, sliding one across the counter toward me.

"Sit!" It wasn't a request.

I perched on one of the bar stools, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. The coffee was perfect… strong and black, exactly how I liked it.

How did he know that? Had he looked into my background? I couldn’t see how else he would know I take my coffee black. I’d only been at the firm for a week, and we’d barely spoken. It was a terrifying glimpse into just how closely he had been watching me.

Adrian leaned back, watching me over the rim of his own cup.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and charged.

Finally, he set his mug down and reached for something on the counter—a thick manila folder I hadn't noticed before and slid it toward me.

"Open it!"

My hands trembled as I pulled the folder closer and flipped it open.

Police reports. Hospital records. Witness statements. Photos of me with black eyes, split lips, bruises in various stages of healing.

My stomach turned.

"How did you get these?"

"My head of security works fast," his tone was matter-of-fact. "I know everything."

I couldn't look at the photos anymore. I closed the folder, my hands shaking.

"Why are you showing me this?" My voice shook.

Adrian didn't answer. Instead, he moved around the counter, coming to stand in front of me. Too close. Always too close.

He placed a single key card on the counter beside the folder. "Apartment. Security. You're no longer an intern—you're my executive assistant now. Triple salary."

I stared at the key. "I can't."

"You will!" He interjected sternly.

"This is too much." I stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the stool. "I need to go. I need to think."

His hand shot out, gripping my wrist.

"Let go of me," I panicked, fearing the unknown.

Adrian pulled me closer, his other hand coming up to cup my jaw. His thumb traced my lower lip, and I felt the touch everywhere.

"You're not running from this," his voice was cold and low.

"I don't want this!" The words burst out of me, desperate and shaking.

"Liar." Adrian’s thumb pressed down on my lip, parting it slightly.

His hand slid from my jaw to my throat, fingers wrapping around my neck, feeling every frantic beat of my pulse.

I tried to pull away, but his grip on my wrist tightened.

He pulled me flush into him, and I felt the hard length of him pressing into my stomach.

My body betrayed me instantly. Heat flooding through me, my thighs clenching as a soft whimper escaped my throat.

"This is wrong." My voice was barely a whisper.

Adrian leaned down, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear.

"Your body doesn't think so." His breath was hot on my skin, sliding his hand from my throat down the front of my blouse until his palm settled between my breasts.

He could feel my heart hammering.

"Feel that?" Adrian’s voice was dark velvet. "That's fear and want fighting each other. Want is winning."

His hand moved lower, fingers splaying across my stomach, and I gasped.

"Stop running. Accept. Admit it!"

"I can't!” I snap.

Adrian’s lips curved ever so slightly as his hand moved to my hip, gripping hard enough to bruise while his other hand released my wrist only to slide into my hair, fisting tight enough to arch my neck back.

The sharp pull sent heat straight between my legs.

"You will!" He said flatly.

"Adrian." His name escaped my lips without permission, breathy and desperate.

Something feral flashed in his eyes.

"Again!"

"Adrian." This time it came out like a plea.

With that, his mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was bruising, consuming, nothing like the controlled claiming in the car.

This was raw hunger, barely leashed violence, and I was drowning in it. The tabloids called him a playboy, a man who broke hearts for sport, but they had never mentioned how completely he devoured a person.

My hands fisted in his shirt, and I couldn't tell if I was trying to push him away or pull him closer.

My body made the decision for me. I was arching into him, pressing closer, desperate for more contact.

Two years of starved, secret fantasies were finally colliding with reality, and I had no defenses left.

Adrian walked me backward until my spine hit the wall. His hands were everywhere… in my hair, on my throat, sliding down my sides to grip my hips.

When his thigh pressed between my legs, I moaned into his mouth.

Adrian swallowed the sound, sliding his tongue over mine, claiming every gasp and whimper.

His thigh pressed harder, and I couldn't stop myself from grinding down on it, seeking friction, seeking relief.

"That's it," he murmured into my mouth. "Show me what you need."

His hands moved to my blouse, unbuttoning it with deliberate slowness. Then he pushed the fabric aside, exposing the bruises on my ribs, the marks my father had left.

Adrian’s jaw tightened. Pure rage flickered across his face.

Then his hands were on my skin, sliding up my ribs, brushing the undersides of my breasts through the thin lace of my bra.

I whimpered, my head falling back.

"Look at me!" Adrian growled.

I forced my eyes open.

His gaze was dark.

"Never again." The words were a vow, dark and absolute. "Say it."

"He'll never touch me again."

"Because?"

My voice was barely a whisper. "Because I'm yours."

"Good girl," Adrian praised.

With that, his hand slid higher, cupping my breasts and brushing his thumb over my nipples through the lace.

The sensation shot straight through me, and my hips jerked forward, grinding harder on his thigh.

"Adrian—please—"

"Please what?" His mouth found my throat and scraped his teeth over my pulse. "Tell me what you want."

I couldn't form words. My entire body was trembling, aching, desperate.

His hands moved to the clasp of my bra, and I felt it give way. The lace fell loose, and then his hands were on my bare skin, palms hot and possessive.

"Beautiful," Adrian murmured, circling his thumbs on my nipples. "So fucking responsive."

He pinched lightly, and I cried out, digging my nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck!” A groan tore from his throat at my violent response.

His mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down my throat, across my collarbone. When his lips finally closed around my nipple, I nearly came apart.

The sensation was overwhelming.

Adrian’s mouth was hot and wet. His tongue circled and teeth grazed just enough to make me gasp while his other hand kneaded my other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling my nipple.

My hips were moving on their own now, grinding desperately on his thigh, chasing the pressure building inside me.

"That's it," Adrian murmured between my breasts. "Take what you need."

His hands moved to my hips, gripping hard, helping me grind down harder on his thigh.

The friction was maddening. It wasn’t enough, but somehow too much.

"Adrian…” I moaned, my eyes rolling back.

His hand slid between us, finding the hem of my skirt. He pushed the fabric up my thighs, and then his hand was cupping me through my panties.

I gasped, my entire body going rigid.

"Soaked," Adrian murmured, stroking over the damp fabric with his thumb. "You're dripping for me, and I've barely touched you."

He chuckled darkly, pressing harder and finding my clit through the thin barrier.

My hips bucked into his hand with a sultry moan.

"Not yet." Adrian suddenly pulled his hand away, and I whimpered at the loss.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while maintaining eye contact.

"Delicious!" Came his low, deep rumble.

My knees nearly gave out.

He caught me, his hands moving to my waist to steady me. Then he was buttoning my blouse back up with maddening care, adjusting my bra, smoothing down my skirt.

Every touch was torture. My body was screaming for release, and he was putting me back together like nothing had happened.

"The apartment. The job. Say yes," he urged.

I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. My entire body was trembling, aching, desperate for him to finish what he'd started.

"Say it!!"

"Yes." The word fell from my lips, broken and needy.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Adrian."

His smile was pure dark satisfaction.

"Good girl." He leaned in until his lips brushed my ear. "When you're ready, when you've earned it, I'll finish what I started. I'll make you come so hard you forget your own name."

A shudder ran through me.

"But first…" He stepped back, leaving me trembling and aching. "You're going to prove you can obey me."

He picked up the key card and pressed it into my palm.

"We're leaving. To get your things!"

Reality crashed back in. "Today?"

"Now." He raised an eyebrow.

"He'll be furious."

"I know." Adrian's hand cupped my jaw and brushed his thumb across my swollen lips. "That's why I'm coming with you."

The thought of Adrian standing between me and my father's rage should have terrified me. Instead, I felt something else entirely.

Relief. And a dark, shameful thrill.

"Okay," I whispered.

His eyes darkened with approval. "Finish your coffee. Twenty minutes."

Then he walked away, leaving me trembling in the kitchen, my body still aching and desperate, my mind screaming that I'd just made a deal with the devil.

But the worst part was that I didn't want to take it back.

I wanted more!