CHAPTER 1- HE ALREADY DECIDED

Maya

The library was almost empty by the time the clock hit 11:47 p.m.

I liked it that way. The silence. The low hum of the air conditioning. The way the fluorescent lights buzzed above the tall shelves like they were tired of staying awake too. Most students had already crawled back to their dorms or found someone to waste the night with. I still had two hours left on my shift and an essay on post-colonial theory that was already three days late.

My scholarship review was in eleven days.

Eleven days to prove I still deserved to be here.

I dragged the last stack of returns onto the cart and pushed it toward the literature section, sneakers squeaking against the polished floor. My shoulders ached. My eyes burned. I hadn’t eaten since a granola bar at noon. None of it mattered. I just needed to finish the shift, get back to the dorm, and force the words onto the page before I passed out.

I turned the corner into the deserted aisle—

And stopped.

Someone was already there.

Tall. Broad shoulders under a black hoodie. Dark hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it too many times. He stood in front of the poetry section like he had every right to be there after hours, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a book he wasn’t reading.

Noah Kane.

Everyone on campus knew who he was. Old money. Board of trustees last name. The kind of guy who never got told no and never had to raise his voice to get what he wanted. He didn’t party with the rest of the rich kids. He didn’t need to. People just… moved out of his way.

I had spent two years successfully avoiding him.

Apparently my luck had run out.

He looked up.

His eyes were darker than I expected. Not warm. Not curious. Just focused. Like he’d already decided something and I was the only one who hadn’t caught up yet.

“We’re closed,” I said, keeping my voice flat. “You need to head out.”

Noah closed the book slowly. The soft thud of the cover sounded too loud in the empty aisle. He slid it back onto the shelf without looking away from me.

“You’re Maya Reid.”

It wasn’t a question.

I tightened my grip on the cart handle. “And you’re not supposed to be here after eleven.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. Not a smile. Something sharper. “You work every Tuesday and Thursday night until one. You take the long way back to East Hall even though the main path is faster. You sit in the third row in your Thursday seminar and never speak unless the professor calls on you.”

My stomach dropped.

“Have you been watching me?”

“Yes.”

The word was simple. Calm. Completely unapologetic.

Heat crawled up my neck. Anger. Embarrassment. Something else I refused to name. I pushed the cart forward an inch like it could put distance between us.

“That’s creepy as hell.”

“I don’t care.” He took one step closer. Then another. The aisle suddenly felt too narrow. “I’ve been patient. I don’t like being patient.”

“I don’t know what you think this is—”

“I think,” he said quietly, “that I’ve spent the last three weeks deciding how I want to ruin you.”

The words landed low in my stomach.

I should have been disgusted. I should have told him to get the fuck out and threatened to call security. Instead my mouth went dry and my pulse started hammering in places it had no business hammering.

“You’re out of your mind,” I whispered.

“Probably.” Another step. He was close enough now that I could smell whatever expensive thing he wore—something dark and clean and expensive. “Doesn’t change anything.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I’m not interested.”

Noah’s gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, dragging down my oversized sweater and jeans like he could already see under them. When he looked back up, his expression had gone even colder.

“Yes,” he said, “you are.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you work yourself raw to stay here. I know you haven’t let anyone touch you in months. I know you clench your thighs every time I look at you in that seminar you think I don’t attend.” His voice dropped. “And I know that if I slid my hand between your legs right now, I’d find out exactly how interested you are.”

My face burned. I hated that my body reacted—heat pooling low, traitorous and immediate.

“Fuck you,” I said, but it came out weaker than I wanted.

Noah’s eyes darkened with something like satisfaction. “That’s the idea.”

He reached past me and placed one hand on the shelf beside my head, caging me in without touching. The heat of his body sank into my front. I could feel the difference in our sizes like a physical weight.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight,” he said, almost gently. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight either. But tomorrow I will. I’m going to take you somewhere quiet, bend you over, and show you what it feels like to be owned. And you’re going to let me.”

My breath stuttered.

“You can’t just decide that.”

“I already did.” His eyes flicked down to my chest, where I knew my nipples had gone tight against my bra. “And the way you’re breathing right now tells me you already know it too.”

I wanted to shove him. I wanted to knee him in the balls and run. Instead I stood there, trapped between the shelf and his body, heart slamming so hard I was sure he could hear it.

“I have a boyfriend,” I lied.

Noah actually smiled then—small and sharp. “No, you don’t.”

“I’ll report you.”

“Do it.” He leaned in until his mouth was almost at my ear. His voice dropped into something filthy and soft. “But we both know you won’t. Because part of you—the part you’re trying so hard to ignore—wants to know how rough I’ll be. Wants to know if I’ll make it hurt. Wants to find out what it feels like when someone doesn’t ask for permission.”

A shaky breath left me.

He pulled back just enough to look at me again. His eyes were almost black.

“Tomorrow,” he said. “After your last class. You’ll meet me behind the old art building. If you don’t show up, I’ll come find you. And I won’t be patient anymore.”

He stepped away.

The loss of his body heat made me realize how hard I’d been leaning back into the shelves.

Noah adjusted his hoodie like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just stood there and told me he was going to ruin me. He glanced once more at my mouth, then turned and walked out of the aisle without another word.

I stayed frozen until the soft sound of the library doors closing reached me.

My hands were shaking.

I pressed my thighs together and hated the slick heat I found there. My skin felt too tight. Every place his voice had touched still burned.

I forced myself to finish the returns. Forced myself to log out of the system. Forced myself to lock the doors and step into the cold night air. The walk back to East Hall felt longer than usual. Every shadow looked like him.

My roommate, Lila, was already asleep when I slipped into the dorm, one arm hanging off the bed, soft snoring filling the dark room. I was grateful. I couldn’t have handled questions tonight.

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and stared at the half-written essay.

The cursor blinked.

I typed one sentence. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

All I could hear was his voice.

I’ve spent the last three weeks deciding how I want to ruin you.

You’re going to let me.

I pressed my legs together again and closed my eyes. Shame and want tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart. Part of me wanted to skip my last class tomorrow and hide. The bigger, darker part of me already knew I wouldn’t.

I was going to show up.

And he knew it too.