Chapter 3 - Resisting Him

Fantine's POV

“You don’t seem to be all that adverse to my touch anymore, Miss Lennox. Are you… perhaps warming up to me?”

Riley ’s smirk brushed against my lips. His voice was low, intimate, too confident.

It hit me like a bucket of ice water.

I shoved him hard. “Get off me!”

“What?” His brows furrowed, confusion flashing in those blue eyes.

“I said get. Off. Me.” My voice cut sharper this time.

He stepped back, hands lifted. “What’s wrong? Afraid your body wants mine?”

Before I thought it through, my hand flew and cracked across his cheek. The sound was sharp enough to make my own ears ring.

His eyes went wide as his hands went to his face. “What the hell?”

I didn’t stay to explain. “Sorry,” I muttered, though I wasn’t, and pushed past him.

The moment I stepped out of the bar, I gulped down fresh air like I’d been drowning. The night was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine from the woods beyond campus.

I still felt his mouth on mine. My skin burned where his hands had been. My wolf was restless, pacing, growling at my refusal to let him in.

This is wrong. This is backwards.

The plan was to seduce him, on my terms. Control the pace, control the tension, control him. But that kiss… that kiss had been him taking the lead, pulling me under.

I didn’t like it.

I am the one in control. Not Riley Porter.

Shoving a hand through my hair, I stalked to my car, slid inside, and shut the door like I was sealing myself off from his heat.

This was just step one. All I had to do was suppress the mate bond long enough for him to fall headfirst into my trap. Once he was wrapped around my finger… he’d never see the knife coming.

**********

I woke with a gasp, heart racing, lungs straining like I’d just sprinted a mile. My tank top clung to me, damp with sweat. Heat pooled low in my body, and embarrassment flared bright and hot.

Oh, no.

I pressed my thighs together, but the slick warmth there was unmistakable.

I had a dream. About him.

About Riley .

Not some vague, fuzzy fantasy, no. My mind had conjured every exact detail: his lips crushing against mine, his hand tangled in my hair, his teeth grazing my ear as he growled that I belonged to him. His fingers… gods, even in the dream, he’d touched me like he already knew me. Like my body was his.

And my body… had loved it.

The alarm blared, shrill and merciless, cutting through the fog. I slapped it off and rolled out of bed before the shame could strangle me.

This was ridiculous. He was a target, nothing more. A kill order wrapped in expensive muscles and a captain’s badge.

Shower. Jeans. T-shirt. Plain, casual. The trick was always to look harmless, so no one ever saw you coming.

I tossed my laptop and a leftover sandwich into my bag and bolted for class. Mafia princess, assassin, business major. It sounded like a bad joke, but I actually liked the coursework. Business theory gave you all the tools you needed to understand power, how it was taken, kept, and multiplied.

Class dragged until 2 p.m. My pulse quickened as the clock ticked down.

Today was the first time I’d see Riley since the bar. The coach had given the team a week off. A week without his smirk, without his eyes burning into me like they could strip away my walls.

Good. I’d needed the space to reset. To put the mate bond back in its box and lock it tight.

***********

Coach Rufus was talking to two guys I didn’t recognize when I reached the rink. Both gave me the same hungry once-over, like I was an hors d’oeuvre. I ignored them.

“Coach. Sorry I’m late,” I said.

“Lennox.” He grinned. He had this habit of calling everyone by their last name, which always amused me since Lennox wasn’t even my real one.

“No need to apologize,” he said. “I know you’ve got Monday classes. By the way, saw the team’s socials. You’re doing great work.”

“Thank you, Coach.”

He nodded toward the back. “The boys are in the locker room. Go give them the news.”

The news being: I’d taken the team from 3k to 10k TikTok followers in one week and cleaned up most of their bad press. I might not brag out loud, but damn, I was good at this.

*************

The locker room hit me with a wall of scent, sweat, cheap soap, and overenthusiastic air freshener.

But it was empty.

“Uh… guys?” My voice echoed off the tile.

I wandered deeper, curiosity tugging me forward. An open locker caught my eye. Inside sat a black backpack. Riley ’s.

His locker smelled… better than the others. Just faintly of cedarwood and clean laundry. No cologne, no overpowering spray.

There wasn’t much, clothes, shoes. Spartan.

“Who the hell are you?”

The voice was familiar, and it startled me enough that I slammed the locker door shut. I turned, and there he was.

Bare torso. Damp hair. Smirk.

“Miss Lennox,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction.

“Riley . Hey.” My pulse jumped, traitorous.

My brain unhelpfully replayed the memory of him pinning me against a wall at the bar, his mouth claiming mine. The heat that had flared then crept right back in now, and I hated it.

He strolled toward me, muscles shifting under his skin with each step. A towel hung low on his hips, dangerously low, the V-line at his pelvis pointing like a signpost toward trouble.

“Looking for something in my locker?” His tone was all lazy amusement.

I scoffed, turning away before my eyes betrayed me. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was checking if anyone was in here.”

He stopped just close enough that his body heat rolled over me.

“I missed you last week,” he said. “I tried getting Coach Rufus to tell me your address. He didn’t, obviously.”

“If you’d shown up at my house, I’d have pepper-sprayed you.”

“Sure you wouldn’t have kissed me instead?”

“Oh, God, you’re so full of yourself. I’m leaving.”

But before I could take a step, his hands closed around my arms and spun me back. My shoulders hit the lockers, not hard, but enough to make my wolf snarl in anticipation.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he said. “You don’t get to run away like last time.”

“What are you doing? Let me go.” My glare was sharp enough to cut.

“Not until you tell me why you’re denying our connection. Why are you running from it?” His brows pulled together, genuine confusion clouding his expression.

“Connection?” I scoffed. “You’re overestimating the lust you feel for me. That’s all this is.”

“Really? Because I can hear your heart racing. Admit it, your body’s screaming for mine. Let me have you.”

My lips parted, but nothing came out. The way he looked at me, it was like he was stripping away my armor piece by piece. My wolf was right there, clawing to close the space between us, to taste him.

For one dangerous second, I almost leaned in. Then I laughed in his face.

He blinked, startled.

“Is that your go-to line, Riley ? Tell every girl she’s your ‘connection’ before you try to get into her pants?”

“You think this is about sex?” His tone was… almost offended.

“What else would it be about?”

“It’s not about sex.”

“Right. Suddenly the campus playboy wants to settle down with his PR manager. Spare me.”

“Apart from the mate bond…” His eyes softened. “I actually like you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t believe me,” he said.

“No. And no girl with half a brain would. You’re a player. Now let me go before I kick you in the balls.”

“I’d rather you squeeze them gently,” he murmured, back in flirt mode.

Disgust twisted my mouth. I shoved at his chest, he didn’t move. But the towel around his waist… did.

It dropped.

My eyes went wide. His grin went wicked.

“Oh. My. Goddess.” I spun and barreled for the door, ignoring his laughter echoing behind me.