Chapter 3: Claimed in Silence

Ashlaine POV —

When we finally reached the parking lot, we stopped in front of a luxurious car.

A Bentley Continental GT—Black

He unlocked the car with a single click, and in no time we were inside. The engine purred to life as he gripped the wheel, driving with the kind of confidence that matched his expensive ride.

The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, but I wasn’t looking.

I was busy pretending.

Pretending I didn’t feel his stare from the driver’s seat.

Pretending I wasn’t hyper-aware of how his hand rested so casually on the gearshift, how his jaw clenched every time we hit a red light.

How the silence between us?

Was screaming.

I crossed my legs, shifted in my seat—just a bit—but enough to catch his attention.

His eyes flicked toward me.

Then back to the road.

Then back to me.

He chuckled under his breath.

“What?” I asked, not even looking at him.

“You’re fidgety,” he said, voice low, almost amused.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He turned the wheel with one hand, the other still resting, steady, strong—too damn confident.

I scoffed, crossing my arms.

“You think just because I got in your car, I’ll get in your bed?”

“No,” he said smoothly, eyes still on the road. “But I like the way you assume that.”

I turned to face him, the corners of my mouth twitching despite myself.

Cocky bastard.

And yet… I didn’t say no.

Because we both knew why I got in the car.

I wanted distraction.

He offered danger.

And somehow… those two things felt the same tonight.

We pulled up into the basement parking of a sleek hotel.

He parked, killed the engine.

But neither of us moved.

The silence was deafening.

Until—

“Last chance,” he said, finally turning to face me fully. His voice was deeper now. Still calm, but no longer playful. “You still wanna go up?”

My lips parted.

But no words came out.

So I leaned in instead.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Our faces—just inches apart now.

“You talk too much,” I whispered.

And then I opened the door and stepped out of the car—without looking back.

But I heard him chuckle again as he followed.

The click of my heels echoed through the empty hallway.

Sleek. Silent. Cold.

And right beside me… him.

Zayne.

Not speaking.

Not rushing.

Just walking beside me like we’d done this before.

Like this was normal.

I didn’t look at him.

Couldn’t.

Because every time I caught his scent—something expensive, dark, like danger bottled up—I forgot why I was supposed to hate myself.

I hated that.

Hated him.

And yet… my hands were shaking.

I felt his hand brush against mine.

Once.

Maybe accidental.

Twice.

Definitely not.

I clenched my fist.

Keep walking, Ash.

But my chest tightened with every step.

His hand brushed mine again, slower this time.

I didn’t move away.

God.

What am I doing?

I kept my eyes forward, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking, of reacting.

But I knew.

I knew he was watching me.

And when we stopped in front of the elevator… I heard it.

His soft laugh.

Calm. Knowing.

Infuriating.

The doors opened.

I stepped in first.

Didn’t wait.

Didn’t ask.

He followed.

And the second those doors slid shut behind us…

I knew.

I wasn’t walking away from this.

Zayne POV —

She doesn’t know it yet.

But she’s already mine.

Every flick of her eyes.

Every shift of her stance.

Every silent inhale when our hands brushed.

She’s unraveling.

And I’m just letting her.

I watched her stare at the elevator doors like they held answers.

They didn’t.

Because the answer was right beside her.

Me.

I leaned against the wall, casual.

Relaxed.

But every muscle in me was coiled tight.

She didn’t belong in this world.

Not here.

Not like this.

But tonight, she was in it.

And with me.

And I wasn’t letting her go.

Her scent hit me again.

Sweet.

Sharp.

Addictive.

Mine.

Her fingers twitched once.

She didn’t notice.

I did.

I noticed everything.

Not with words.

With glances.

With silence.

With the way her body betrays her.

She thought she was leading this.

She wasn’t.

Not since the second she looked at me back at the bar.

Ding—

The elevator stopped.

My floor.

She hesitated.

I didn’t.

I waited.

I watched.

Because I wanted her choice.

When she finally stepped forward?

It wasn’t freedom.

It was surrender.

To me.

I followed.

Silent.

Certain.

Possessive.

Exactly what she needed.

Even if she’d spend the rest of the night lying to herself about it.

__

She entered the room first.

Quiet. Hesitant.

But curious.

That was all I needed.

I closed the door behind us with a soft click.

She flinched, almost like the sound sealed her fate.

It kind of did.

Her eyes scanned the room like she needed an exit plan.

I stayed still. Gave her space.

But never looked away.

She moved toward the window, back turned.

Fake calm.

She was pretending to admire the view.

But I knew better.

I shrugged off my jacket.

Slow. Intentional.

Let it fall to the chair, eyes still on her.

She spoke first.

“So…”

Her voice cracked a little.

She tried to hide it.

I didn’t answer.

Not with words.

I walked.

Each step loud against the silence.

Measured. Controlled.

And when I reached her, I stopped—right behind her.

Close enough that she could feel the heat of me…

But not touching.

Not yet.

She didn’t turn.

Didn’t breathe.

My hand lifted—hovering just an inch from her bare shoulder.

Still not touching.

“You could still walk away,” I murmured, voice low, almost a whisper.

A lie. I'm not letting you go this time Ashlaine.

She tilted her head, just enough to glance at me from the side.

Those eyes?

Defiant. Afraid. Starving. Full of Desire. Needy.

I moved closer.

My hand grazed her arm.

Goosebumps.

She inhaled—sharp, quiet.

And that’s when I knew—

She was already mine.

Not because I forced her.

But because she wanted to be.

If not forever?

If maybe not tomorrow.

But tonight?

Tonight was mine. But hell, I won't let you go after this. Ashlaine.

I turned her gently, hands light but firm on her waist.

And when our eyes met—

That was it.

I leaned in slowly.

Paused—just inches from her lips.

Giving her the chance to pull back.

She didn’t.

I kissed her like she was already a memory I never wanted to forget.

Slow. Sure.

Not asking. Taking.

But never pushing beyond what she gave.

Her hands gripped my shirt.

My control almost snapped.

But I held on.

Barely.

Because this wasn’t about lust.

Not really.

It was about claiming space—

In her mind.

In her skin.

In the part of her she wouldn’t admit was breaking.

I lifted her gently, walked her to the bed.

Still no words.

None needed.

Because sometimes…

The silence says everything.

I laid her down carefully.

Not because she was fragile.

But because tonight, I wanted her to feel like she was worth being handled gently.

She didn’t fight me.

Her eyes stayed locked on mine.

Trust? Maybe.

Resignation? Probably.

Need? Definitely.

Her breathing faltered.

Good.

She should know exactly what she got herself into.

I hovered above her, not touching.

Yet.

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something.

She didn’t.

So I spoke for her.

Low. Calm. Controlled.

"You're safe."

I'm dangerous.

A lie.

She wasn’t.

Not from me.

Not from whatever this was.

But I said it anyway.

Because maybe I needed her to believe it.

I lowered myself slowly.

Close enough to feel her pulse racing against her throat.

But I didn’t kiss her.

Not yet.

I watched her.

Her breathing.

The way her hands trembled against the sheets.

She wasn’t scared of me.

She was scared of herself.

Of why she let me this close.

I let my fingertips brush her collarbone.

Once.

She gasped softly.

Barely audible.

And then, finally—

I kissed her.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Like I was giving her the choice to stop me.

She didn’t.

When her hands slid up my back, pulling me down completely—

That’s when I knew.

I didn’t need to take.

She was giving.

All of it.

And I accepted.

Carefully.

Possessively.

Because tonight…

She was mine.