The First Taste

Elena didn’t sleep a single hour.

She had gone back to her room after the kitchen incident, but her body refused to settle. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Adrian’s fingers grazing her thigh again, lingering, promising. Every time she turned her head on the pillow, she swore she could still smell his cologne — sharp, masculine, dangerously addictive.

By dawn, she sat upright in bed, robe clutched around her, exhausted yet restless. Her husband, Gregory, was away on a week-long business trip, and the emptiness of the mansion suddenly felt like a trap. A gilded cage where temptation lurked behind every corner.

She thought of making breakfast, distracting herself, maybe even calling a friend. But the sound of footsteps in the hall froze her blood.

She didn’t have to look to know. It was him.

Adrian.

The soft creak of her door made her chest squeeze tight. She turned quickly, heart pounding, and there he was — leaning casually against the frame, hair tousled, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. He was dressed this time, but only in a loose T-shirt and joggers, his muscles outlined by the fabric in ways that made her mouth dry.

“Morning,” he drawled, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to invade her room.

Elena clutched the robe tighter. “Adrian, you can’t just barge in here.”

“Why not?” His grin widened, wolfish. “I live here. You live here. We’re family, right?”

Her stomach twisted. The way he said familywas laced with mockery, as though he knew exactly how wrong it sounded.

“I don’t want to play games with you,” she whispered.

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound echoed in the silence, sealing them off from the rest of the house.

“No games,” he murmured, advancing slowly, each step deliberate. “You keep pretending, Elena. But last night…” His eyes darkened. “You wanted me to touch you. I felt it. Don’t bother denying it.”

Heat surged through her veins. She shook her head furiously, but her body betrayed her, her chest rising and falling too fast, her lips parting against her will.

Adrian stopped at the edge of her bed, towering over her. His gaze roamed her face, then dipped lower, lingering on the hollow of her throat where her pulse thundered wildly.

“You look so beautiful in the morning,” he whispered, almost reverently. “So soft. So untouched.” His fingers reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Does he even see you? Or does my father just leave you here, starving?”

Her breath caught. The cruelty of his words cut deep because they were true. Gregory hadn’t touched her in months. Work, stress, excuses—his love had grown cold.

Elena swallowed hard. “Stop this, Adrian. Please.”

But her voice lacked conviction.

He smirked faintly, as though hearing the weakness. His hand slid lower, grazing her jawline, then trailing down to her shoulder. The heat of his touch seeped through the thin fabric of her robe, sending sparks racing across her skin.

“Say you don’t want me,” he challenged, voice low and rough. “Look me in the eye and say it.”

Her lips trembled. Her heart screamed to push him away, but her body leaned forward, betraying her, hungry for what she’d been denying.

She couldn’t say it.

Adrian’s smirk vanished, replaced with something darker, hungrier. Slowly, he leaned closer until their breaths mingled, until his mouth hovered just above hers.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

And then, his lips pressed against hers.

The world shattered.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was desperate, hungry, almost violent in its intensity. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue sliding past her lips as though he’d been starving for this moment.

Elena gasped against him, her hands flying up to his chest—not to push him away, but to hold on, to steady herself as the ground seemed to crumble beneath her.

The taste of him flooded her senses: warm, intoxicating, forbidden.

Her robe slipped slightly from her shoulder, exposing smooth skin. Adrian’s hand immediately claimed the space, his palm hot against her bare flesh. He deepened the kiss, groaning softly into her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough.

Elena whimpered. The sound shocked her.

She tore her lips away, panting, her chest heaving. “No—this is wrong.”

Adrian’s gaze was molten, his lips swollen from the kiss. “Wrong doesn’t feel this good.”

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand against his chest. The rapid beat of his heart thudded beneath her palm, strong and relentless.

“Feel that?” he whispered harshly. “That’s what you do to me. You drive me insane, Elena.”

Her pulse raced, matching his. She wanted to pull away, to scream at him, to banish him from her room forever. But instead, her eyes dropped to his lips again, aching for more.

Adrian saw it. He smirked, triumphant.

In one swift move, he pushed her gently back onto the bed, bracing himself over her without crushing her. His body caged hers, heat radiating from him, his scent surrounding her completely.

Her robe slipped further, the silk gaping at her chest. His eyes flickered down, hunger blazing.

“God,” he muttered, voice rough, “you’re going to ruin me.”

His lips crashed down again, hotter, more urgent this time. Elena moaned into his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

Every nerve in her body screamed for him, begged for more.

But in the chaos, guilt sliced through her like a blade. Gregory’s face flashed in her mind, the vows she had made, the line she was crossing.

With a strangled cry, she shoved at Adrian’s chest, breaking the kiss.

“Stop!” she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. “We can’t—this has to stop!”

Adrian froze, his chest heaving, his eyes wild. For a moment, he looked ready to argue, to drag her back into his arms. But then he sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair.

His lips curled into a dangerous smile. “You can lie to yourself all you want. But your body doesn’t lie, Elena. You kissed me back. You wanted it.”

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t deny it.

Adrian leaned closer one last time, his breath hot against her ear. “This isn’t over. Not even close.”

And then he was gone, leaving her sprawled across the bed, lips swollen, body trembling, heart torn in two.

Elena buried her face in her hands, sobs shaking her shoulders. She hated herself. She hated the weakness that burned inside her.

But even through the guilt, her lips still tingled from his kiss.

And the truth she couldn’t face was simple.

She wanted more.