Chapter 9
Sophia
Every time I meet with Adrian, it's like I fall deeper into him, grow more enmeshed in his world. He's starting to take over all my waking thoughts—and creep into my dreams more often. I've stopped fooling myself about that.
I want to dream about him.
I want him to take things further.
But the more we try to come together, the more things seem to get between us. And that reminds me—I haven't seen Mara around lately.
I've been looking at the work in progress in front of me for what feels like an endless amount of time. I just can't get my brain to work. I'd like to say it's because the scope is so big, that I have so many ideas that it's hard to narrow down my vision. But I know that's not it.
Today, my debts were cleared, just like that. All I had to do was give Adrian the details, and the financial issues I've been drowning in and stressing over just disappeared. I think that's why I arrived so early in the morning to Adrian's studio. I want to pay him back—even though he expects nothing in return. Well, obviously I need to work on the commission. But I won't have to pay him back a single cent.
I think I'm paying him back with my time and attention. Exclusivity.
It's easy to say that, use that excuse to rationalize my behavior. But more than that, I want to see Adrian again.
I jump slightly when the studio door opens, Adrian's footsteps coming nearer. My heart races as I pretend to focus on my work.
"Making progress?" His voice carries across the room, smooth and controlled.
I nod, my brush hesitating. "The technical elements are coming together, but..." I trail off as he moves closer. The air changes when he's near—becomes charged, makes it hard to breathe normally.
"Show me." He stands behind me now, close enough that I catch his subtle cologne.
I gesture at the half-finished piece. "I'm incorporating the circuit patterns here, weaving them through the human figure. The idea is to show how technology both enhances and constrains us." My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
"Interesting interpretation." His eyes don't leave my work, but I feel the weight of his attention like a physical touch. "The tension between control and freedom."
"Yes, exactly." I turn slightly, and our eyes meet. The look in his eyes holds something darker, hungrier than before. My breath catches.
"Your technique has evolved considerably." His hand brushes my shoulder as he leans in to examine a detail. "The precision here shows remarkable control."
I swallow hard. "Control isn't always easy to maintain."
His lips curve slightly. "No, it isn't."
We're dancing around what's really happening between us. Every conversation about art feels loaded with double meanings. Every critique carries an undercurrent of something more primal.
"Adrian," I start, then stop, unsure what I'm even trying to say. What happens when a patron becomes more? When professional lines blur beyond recognition? The commission looms between us—both connection and barrier.
"Yes?" His voice drops lower, sending shivers down my spine. His hand rests on my shoulder now, thumb tracing small circles that make it impossible to think clearly.
"The commission—if we..." I can't finish the thought. His proximity scrambles my words.
"We're both adults, Sophia." His other hand settles on my waist, barely there but burning through my thin shirt. "Capable of separating different aspects of our relationship."
But are we? The question hangs unspoken as I lean back slightly, testing the solid warmth of him behind me. His hold tightens in response.
"I wonder if I'm dreaming again," I murmur to myself, my lips curving into a grin.
"Again?" Adrian echoes, running his hand up my back.
Both hands settle on my shoulders and start to massage. I feel him lean down toward my neck, feel his breath tickling me there. I lean my head to the side and let my eyes close.
It's happening so fast my brain can't quite keep up. But my body seems to know exactly what to do. I feel him urge me to stand, the brush slipping from my fingers. I comply, my eyes still closed, drunk on sensation.
"Did you dream about me last night, Sophia?" His voice is a rough whisper against my ear, sending delicious shivers through me.
"Maybe," I tease, a smile playing at my lips.
"What did you dream about?" His hands are at my waist now, his thumbs stroking.
"You'll have to pry it out of me." My own hands reach up, sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.
"I can do that." He begins to push me backward, guiding me toward the far wall.
My heart pounds as the back of my legs meet the wall. He's caging me in, his body warm, solid. A rush of anticipation courses through me, and I tilt my head back, baring my neck to him.
"Beautiful."
His lips graze my skin, sending sparks down my body. He's dressed in his sharp, tailored suit, but I can feel the broadness of his shoulders, the lean strength of him.
"I was thinking about you," I confess, my breath coming faster. His fingers trace feather-light patterns on my skin, up my arms, along my cheeks.
"Tell me more." His mouth moves to my neck, teeth scraping gently.
"You were..." My words falter as he starts to kiss me, his lips moving down my jawline. "You were touching me. Guiding my hand."
He stops, his eyes searching mine. "Is that so?"
I nod, unable to meet his stare for long, too overwhelmed by sensation. "I couldn't break free. You teased me, told me I wasn't using enough feeling."
His eyes darken, and he grins, wolfish. "And did I make you feel, Sophia?"
"Yes." The word comes out strangled, my body thrumming with arousal.
"Show me." His hands slide to my wrists, pinning them gently above my head.
I bite my lip as he lowers his head, his lips finding my collarbone. His tongue darts out to taste my skin, and I shiver, a soft moan escaping.
"Adrian," I breathe, my body arching toward him.
He chuckles, a deep sound that vibrates through me. "Do you like this, Sophia?" His hands roam lower, thumbs slipping under the hem of my shirt to graze the bare skin of my waist.
"Yes," I whisper again, unable to form coherent thoughts. His fingers skim my sides, sending shivers up my body.
"Your skin is so soft." His mouth moves to my breasts now, nibbling through the fabric of my shirt. His thumbs hook under the elastic of my pants, tugging them open slightly.
"Adrian." I start to reach for him, but he catches my wrists, holding them together with one hand while the other continues its path downward.
I watch him squat, his eyes on me, and he comes near me, making me take in a shuddering breath.
"Tell me, Sophia. Did I touch you like this in your dream?" His mouth is on me now, through my panties, and I cry out, unable to form words. "Did I make you feel good, Sophia?"
His tongue teases and nips, sending waves of pleasure through me. I twist in his grip, wanting more, needing to feel him.
"Yes, there, please." My words come out in a rush, my body arching into him.
He chuckles again, the sound both dark and triumphant. "Impatient, aren't we?"
He pushes my panties aside, baring me to his mouth. His tongue tastes me directly, swirling over my most sensitive spot, and I cry out, my hips jerking.
"So good," he murmurs against me, his breath hot.
I press into his mouth, working my hips back and forth as his tongue works its magic. His hands are still holding my wrists, his fingers digging into my skin.
He finds a rhythm, licking and sucking, and my body responds, tension coiling tight within me. I rock my hips in time with his tongue, my breath coming in short gasps.
I want to touch him, but he holds me fast. I'm at his mercy, utterly exposed, and it only fuels the fire burning inside me.
I moan his name, my body trembling on the edge of release.
"Adrian, please..."
But he senses my impending climax and slows, his tongue gentling, then stopping.
"Not yet, Sophia," he murmurs, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh.
I whimper in frustration, my body craving release. "Please..."
"Not yet," he repeats, his voice firm.
He stands, his eyes dark with desire as he takes in my disheveled state. My hair is wild, my chest heaving, and my pants are still undone, revealing the lace edge of my panties.
"You're exquisite," he says, his voice hoarse.
"Adrian," I whisper, my voice thick with need. My body is throbbing, every nerve ending screaming for completion.
He steps back, his eyes never leaving mine. "That's enough for now, Sophia."
I bite my lip, torn between frustration and desire. I want him, ache for him, but he's in control, and I sense this is part of the game. A test of my submission.
He releases my wrists, and I sag slightly against the wall, my body boneless. He steps forward, his hands on my waist, and pulls me gently toward him so that our bodies align. My chest is against his, my cheek resting on his shoulder. I can feel his heart pounding beneath his suit jacket, matching my own erratic heartbeat.
We stand like that for a moment, our bodies connected, our breathing slowing. I feel a sense of peace wash over me, a calm in the center of the storm raging inside me.
"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle.
I nod, my cheek rubbing against his jacket. "Thank you."
He presses a kiss to the top of my head, and I feel a surge of warmth at the simple gesture.
"You're very welcome, Sophia." His voice is soft, his tone sincere.
We stand there for a few more moments, just breathing, the tension draining from my body. But my mind is still alert, still aware of him—his smell, the solid strength of him.
I tilt my head up to look at him, our eyes meeting. It's like he's trying to see into my soul. "Are you okay, Sophia?"
I nod, my thumb tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "I'm good. Just..."
"Just what?" He prompts gently, his thumb brushing my jaw.
I hesitate, unsure how to put words to the tangle of emotions inside me. "It's a lot. You're a lot."
A ghost of a smile plays at his lips, and he leans down, his mouth brushing mine gently.
"I know, Sophia. I'm aware of my effect on people."
"It's not—it's not a bad thing," I rush to explain, my cheeks heating. "It's just a lot to process."
"I understand, believe me." He pulls back, his hands sliding down my arms to take my hands in his. "We don't have to rush anything, Sophia. We have time."
My heart stutters at his words, and the tension that had eased now returns, coiling in my stomach. Time for what? For our relationship? For him to fully invade my life? I know he's already in my head, in my dreams, but there's still so much of him to discover. So many layers to peel back.
"Adrian," I start, then stop, unsure how to voice my thoughts.
He raises an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes. "Yes, Sophia?"
I take a breath. "I want to know more about you. About what you want."
His eyes darken, a spark of something dangerous flickering in their depths. "Oh, Sophia. Be careful what you wish for."
"I'm not afraid," I whisper, my body thrumming with a mix of desire and uncertainty.
His phone pierces the charged moment between us, but his eyes never leave mine. Without looking, he reaches into his pocket and silences it.
"I only stopped by to check on things," he says, his voice rough. His thumb traces my bottom lip. My body trembles at his touch, wanting more.
"I have a busy day ahead." His other hand slides down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "But I'll see you soon."
He leans in close, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. The gesture is deliberate, sensual, like he's savoring my taste. Then he turns and walks away, leaving me alone against the wall, my body aching with unfulfilled desire.
The door clicks shut behind him, and I slide down to sit on the floor, my legs too shaky to hold me up.
I don't know what this is, but I want more.
So much more.