25. Maya
25
MAYA
I curl up on Amelia’s plush couch, wrapping myself in her soft throw blanket. The morning sun filters through her living room windows, but I can’t shake the chill that’s settled deep in my bones.
My tongue aches for the taste of Adrian’s chocolates. The way they melted, the layers of emotion, the... No. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out why they are so special.
“Get it together,” I mutter, reaching for my fourth cup of coffee. The mug clatters against the side table as I set it down. These tremors have been getting worse.
My phone buzzes. I had to order a new one since Adrian still has my old one. It’s another text from my editor asking about the upcoming restaurant review. I silence it without responding. The thought of tasting anything right now makes my stomach turn. Everything tastes like cardboard compared to...
A wave of nausea hits me, and I rush to Amelia’s bathroom, barely making it in time. As I rinse my mouth, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Dark circles ring my eyes, my skin pale and clammy. I look like an addict going through withdrawal.
Maybe I am. My mind is tangled with the cravings for Adrian’s touch, voice, and chocolates. My body remembers every sensation and taste.
I shuffle back to the couch, grateful Amelia’s at work. She’s been supportive, but I can’t stand the worry in her eyes when she looks at me. She keeps suggesting I talk to someone and report him to the police. She doesn’t understand how deep this goes.
My fingers trace the fading marks on my neck, and heat floods my core. Even now, after everything, my body betrays me with want. I curl tighter into the blanket, trying to focus on the mundane details of Amelia’s apartment—her art supplies scattered across the coffee table, the half-finished painting on the easel, anything to anchor me to reality.
But in the quiet of her empty apartment, Adrian’s presence haunts me like a ghost I can’t shake.
A knock at the door jolts me from my spiraling thoughts. My heart stops—I know that precise, measured rhythm. Three sharp raps, evenly spaced.
“No,” I whisper, frozen on Amelia’s couch. “It’s not possible.”
But when I peer through the peephole, Adrian stands in the hallway, impeccable in his charcoal suit. His blue eyes seem to look straight through the door, through me.
My fingers tremble on the doorknob. Did my desperate thoughts somehow summon him here? The metal feels ice-cold against my palm as I open the door.
“Little critic.” His voice wraps around me like silk. “Did you really think you could hide from me?”
The scent of chocolate and leather floods my senses. My knees weaken as memories crash over me—his hands, his mouth, the taste of his creations.
“How did you—” My voice cracks. I grip the doorframe to steady myself.
“I know everything about you, Maya.” He doesn’t move closer; he doesn’t need to. His presence fills the entire doorway, the whole hallway.
Fear traces an icy path down my spine. Of course he knows. He’s probably known all along, letting me believe I had some measure of control by running here.
“Was it the chocolate?” I ask, hating how my voice shakes. “Did you put something in it to make me... to make me want...”
His smile is razor-sharp. “The only thing in my chocolates is truth, Maya. Your truth. Our truth.”
My breath halts as Adrian’s polished veneer cracks. His fingers dig into the doorframe, knuckles white with tension. Gone is the sophisticated chocolatier—in his place stands a predator.
“You ran from me.” His voice comes out rough. Every syllable caresses my spine like ice.
I back away into Amelia’s apartment, but Adrian matches my retreat step for step. The door clicks shut behind him.
“I had to.” My voice trembles. “What you do—what we did?—”
“What we did was embrace our true nature.” He stalks closer, and I feel the heat radiating from his body. “Stop fighting it, Maya.”
My back hits the wall. Adrian cages me with his arms, his scent—chocolate, leather, and male—overwhelming my senses. My body betrays me, responding to his proximity with a rush of heat.
“Look at you,” he growls, noting my reaction. “Your body knows who you belong to.”
I turn my face away, but his fingers grasp my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. The refined mask has completely slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath.
“You’re mine.” His knuckles brush my cheek. “My dark obsession. My perfect taste tester. My...” His grip tightens. “My runaway.”
A whimper escapes me—fear or arousal, I can’t tell anymore. They’ve become hopelessly entangled when it comes to Adrian. My heart pounds against my ribs as his spare hand glides up my throat, not squeezing, reminding me of his power.
“Adrian...” His name comes out as a plea, though I’m unsure if I’m begging him to stop or continue.
“Say it again.” His breath fans hot against my ear. “Say my name like you need me.”
“Adrian...” His name slips from my lips again, dripping with need. My body trembles against the wall, caught between terror and desperate arousal.
He crashes his mouth against mine, teeth clashing. There’s no tenderness, no restraint—just violent possession. His fingers dig into my hair, yanking my head back as he devours me. The kiss tastes of fury.
I gasp as he bites my lower lip hard enough to sting. His body pins me to the wall, crushing the air from my lungs. His body vibrates with anger, a tangible energy that fills the room. Every muscle is taut like a caged animal poised to tear into me. I betrayed him, tried to flee, and now I face the full force of his rage.
My hands fist his suit jacket, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. His tongue invades my mouth, demanding submission. I can feel his anger in every brutal kiss, every bruising touch.
“You ran from me,” he growls against my lips, giving my hair another sharp tug. The pain shoots straight to my core, making me whimper. “You thought you could hide.”
I arch into him helplessly as his free hand grips my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. My body remembers this—the way he owns me. The darkness inside me surges, hungry for more.
His teeth scrape down my neck, finding the fading marks he left before. “These were starting to fade,” he snarls. “Can’t have that, can we?”
“Why didn’t you go to the police, Maya?” Adrian’s fingers trace my jaw, forcing me to meet his gaze. “That would have been the sensible thing to do.”
My cheeks burn with shame. He’s right—it should have been my first move. Call 911 and report the psychotic chocolatier who drugs women and uses blood in his creations. Simple. Clean. The right thing to do.
“I...” The words stick in my throat. His eyes bore into mine, demanding the truth. “I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?” His thumb brushes my lower lip.
“Both.” My voice comes out barely above a whisper. “I know what you do is wrong. I should have reported you when I learned about... about the blood. About everything.”
Adrian stays silent, waiting. The weight of his body still pins me to the wall, but his touch has gentled.
“But I didn’t want to.” The confession tears from my throat. “God help me. I didn’t want you to get in trouble. I didn’t want this to end.” A broken laugh escapes me. “How fucked up is that? I’m protecting a killer because I can’t bear the thought of losing what we have.”
“And what do we have?”
“I don’t know.” Tears sting my eyes. “Something twisted and wrong. Something I need more than I’ve ever needed anything.”
His fingers tighten on my jaw. “Say it.”
“I’m attached to you.” The words tumble out. “Whatever this is between us, I’m addicted to it. To you. I hate myself for it, but I couldn’t destroy it.”
“Good.” Adrian’s voice rumbles with satisfaction, and he showers my neck with kisses—each one feeling like forgiveness. “So damn good.”
He trails his mouth along my collarbone, and the rational part of my brain screams at me to push him away. This isn’t some luxurious suite or his apartment—it’s Amelia’s. My safe haven. My sanctuary. The one place I thought I could escape him.
But my hands don’t listen to the warnings shrieking in my head. They tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. It feels so right to have him here, touching me, tasting me.
He groans, and his hips press against mine. His arousal is undeniable, and it sends a rush of damp heat between my thighs. I can’t think straight when he touches me and fills my head with his scent.
“Adrian.” His name slips from my lips, my body arching toward him. “I need...”
“I know what you need.” He pulls away, his eyes burning. Without breaking eye contact, he starts unbuttoning his suit jacket slowly and deliberately.
The rational part of my brain screams at me again, louder this time. I should be running, not waiting for him to tear my clothes off. But every protesting thought is washed away by a wave of longing—a longing I can’t fight anymore.
As his jacket falls to the floor, I grab the hem of his dress shirt, slowly pulling it free from his belt. I should care that we’re in Amelia’s living room, that this isn’t our space. But my fingers tremble with anticipation, and I can’t stop.
“Hurry,” I whisper, and the word sounds like a plea.
Adrian growls as he yanks his shirt over his head. His eyes devour me as he reaches for the button of my jeans, popping it open with deft fingers. “You’re so eager, baby. So eager to give in.”
“Yes.” The admission comes easily. No more denial, no more fighting it. “It’s always been you, Adrian. Just you.”
His mouth captures mine in a searing kiss, and I feel his hand slip beneath the elastic of my panties. He’s already so hard, so ready, and my body craves the release only he can give.
He lifts me onto the couch, settling between my thighs. My jeans and panties are somewhere on the floor now, the cool fabric of the couch cushions beneath me. Adrian’s mouth claims mine again, drowning out my thoughts.
When he breaks the kiss, I whimper in protest. His hands grip my thighs, spreading them wider, and he positions himself at my entrance.
“So wet for me.” His words are a rough whisper.
I’m beyond the point of shame, beyond caring that this is my best friend’s couch, her apartment. The only thing that matters is our connection, the way he makes me feel alive.
He thrusts forward, filling me in one smooth stroke. My body welcomes him, heat rushing through me as we come together.
His mouth finds my neck, teeth scraping my skin as he moves in a brutal rhythm that sends sparks through my nerves. All my senses focus on the pleasure of him inside me, the feel of his skin against mine.
His hips snap against mine, each impact bringing me closer to the edge. He plunders my mouth with his tongue, swallowing my cries. I can’t get close enough.
My fingers dig into his back as the pleasure builds, his name torn from my lips in a hoarse cry. The pressure coiled tight within me snaps, and my release shatters me, my body trembling against his.
Adrian groans, his rhythm faltering as he spills himself into me, his body shuddering with the force of it. He covers my mouth with his, drinking in my cries.
We stay tangled together for long moments, our hearts pounding in unison. His lips trail feather-light kisses across my shoulder as he nuzzles his face into the curve of my neck.
I want to tell him to stay, beg him never to leave, but the words won’t form. Instead, I run my fingers through his hair, holding him close, clinging to this moment in Amelia’s apartment, where Adrian showed me once again that my body and soul are his.