Chapter Two
Isla
T he Uber's air conditioning hit my flushed skin like a shock, my heart hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I collapsed against the seat, fingers pressed to my lips, which still burned from Adrian's kisses.
The memory of his big hands on my hips, fingers around my throat, sent another wave of crazy heat through me.
My friends would think I was insane if they knew how that single touch had ignited something dark and needy inside me.
"Oh my GOD, Isla!" Bailey shrieked, her birthday tiara askew as she bounced beside me. "Who was THAT?"
Tracy leaned forward from beside Bailey, her eyes wide. "You were practically climbing him in the middle of the dance floor! That is so not you!"
I'd met Bailey and Tracy through social media about two years ago when my account started gaining traction. They were both lifestyle influencers with followings bigger than mine, and I'd been so excited when they'd reached out to collaborate .
They were mostly nice, but they'd never understand the part of me that had melted when the dangerous stranger pressed his thumb against my racing pulse.
I covered my face with my hands, mortification and exhilaration battling for dominance in my chest.
"I don't know what happened," I mumbled through my fingers. "I just... I don't know."
That wasn't entirely true. I knew what had happened—I'd been utterly consumed by a stranger with green eyes and tattoos that told stories I desperately wanted to read.
A man who looked like danger and tasted like dark promises I'd never dared voice.
"Well, whoever he was, he was hot as hell," Bailey declared, fanning herself dramatically.
"Those tattoos! And his hands—did you see his hands? All veiny and..." She exhaled, “I guess guys like that go for different types.”
The comment made my eyebrow quirk, but she quickly followed it with a bright smile. "You looked amazing tonight!”
I had seen his hands. I'd felt them cupping my face, wrapping around my throat like he owned me, gripping my thigh with a possession that lit me on fire from the inside out.
And he'd seemed to love every curve, every soft inch of me he could reach.
"Was that your first public makeout session?" Tracy asked, her tone light. "Because if so, you really went for the gold medal. I mean, most of us start smaller, you went for it!”
The driver caught my eye in the rearview mirror, his expression amused, and I sank lower in my seat.
"Can we please talk about something else?" I begged. "Like Bailey’s birthday? The cake we're supposed to be having?"
Bailey waved a dismissive hand. "Girl, you just gave me the best birthday present ever—watching you throw yourself at the hottest guy in the club. Though I have to say, I'm surprised he was so... receptive. Usually guys like that go for the model types, you know? "
She laughed, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "But hey, you've got that whole curvy girly thing going for you!"
I frowned.
I loved my curves, loved the way my body filled out dresses, and how my hips swayed when I walked.
Adrian had certainly seemed to appreciate them, his hands mapping every inch like he was memorizing me. But Bailey's backhanded compliments always left me feeling slightly off-balance.
I stared out the window at the passing city lights, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. "His name is Adrian," I said softly, changing the subject before they could make any more observations.
"And?" Tracy prompted, leaning closer with hungry curiosity.
"And nothing. That's all I know." I tugged at my dress, suddenly aware of how the hem had ridden up during our encounter. "I didn't exactly ask for his resume while we were..."
"While you were sucking his face off?" Tracy supplied with a laugh. "God, what I wouldn't give to have a guy look at me like that. Though I guess confidence is everything, right?”
"He was... intense," I said, trying to ignore the subtle digs wrapped in encouragement.
Intense didn't begin to cover it. He'd looked at me like I was prey he intended to devour slowly.
There was the growl that had rumbled through his chest when I'd kissed him. The careful control in his grip that promised he could be so much rougher if I wanted him to be.
"Adrian?" Bailey repeated, tilting her head. Her birthday tiara slipped further to the side as she frowned. "Wait, that seems..."
I touched my lips absently, still feeling the ghost of his mouth on mine. "It's a common name," I mumbled, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart.
Tracy’s eyes narrowed as she studied my face. "Hold up. He was tall and built like a mountain. Tattoos everywhere, including his neck? And his name is Adrian?"
My stomach flipped. "Yeah...? ”
"I think..." Tracy grabbed her phone, fingers flying across the screen. "No way. No fucking way." She turned her phone toward us, her expression shocked.
On the screen was a professional photo of the very same Adrian in a boxing ring, arms raised in victory, body glistening with sweat, and that same dangerous grin on his face.
The caption read: "Adrian the ‘Catalyst' claims ninth straight victory in brutal KO."
"Holy shit," Bailey whispered, her voice tight as she grabbed the phone. "You just made out with Adrian? The Catalyst? The professional boxer?"
She looked at me with wide eyes that held a hint of disbelief. “Holy shit. Wow. Just... wow."
My mouth went dry, and my brain just emptied itself. "I didn't know who he was."
Tracy laughed. "Girl, he's friends with Jax Easton and Connor Graves! They're like the unholy trinity of professional boxing. How did you not recognize him?"
Her tone was slightly accusatory, like I'd somehow cheated by not knowing.
"I don't follow boxing," I said weakly, though the names sounded vaguely familiar. "He just... he was just a guy in a club."
Life felt so unreal right now.
"Just a guy?" Bailey scoffed, scrolling through more photos with slightly trembling fingers.
"Isla, he's gorgeous and famous and worth millions! Look at this—he won his last fight in under five minutes."
She paused, glancing at me sideways. "I mean, good for you for shooting your shot, but this is just... wow.”
“He's also kind of a goofball," Tracy added quickly, taking the phone back.
"Have you seen his interviews? He shows up in these ridiculous outfits and makes the reporters laugh.” She studied the screen.
"Though honestly, he could have anyone. Literally anyone. "
I stared at the images on the screen, my breath catching. There he was—in the ring, at press conferences, at some gala with his arms around two other huge men I assumed were his famous friends.
In every photo, he looked like the kind of man who was completely out of my league, which made my friends' barely concealed amazement all the more pointed.
"I can't believe you just scored the hottest bachelor on the East Coast,” Bailey sighed. "And then you ran away? Girl, what were you thinking?" She laughed.
"Though honestly, maybe it's better that way. Guys like that... they're probably not looking for anything serious, you know?"
"I panicked!" I defended myself. "I just told him my first name and then bolted.”
"This explains why he kissed like that," Tracy said with a smirk. "Champion stamina. God, some girls have all the luck.”
The three of us laughed, but I could feel the undercurrent of tension, the way they kept looking at me like they couldn't quite believe what had happened.
"You have to find him again," Bailey insisted, scrolling through more photos. "I mean, if you want to. Though guys like that probably have girls throwing themselves at them constantly."
She brightened. "But hey, you never know! Maybe he really was totally into you!”
I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be motivation or not.
"I don't know," I said, uncertainty creeping back in. "He's so... different from anyone I've ever been with."
"That's the point," Tracy rolled her eyes. "This guy looks like he could show you the time of your life."
I bit my lip, trying to ignore the thrill that shot through me at the thought. "I only gave him my first name. It's not like he can find me."
Bailey and Tracy exchanged a look across me that I couldn't quite decipher.
"What?" I asked.
"Isla," Bailey said, her voice taking on a patronizing tone, "if that man wants to find you, he absolutely will. Though honestly, he probably meets a lot of girls..." She trailed off with a shrug.
The thought made me shiver with both anticipation and sudden insecurity as I stared out the window.
When we arrived, Bailey’s apartment was a whirlwind of champagne, birthday cake, and endless speculation about Adrian.
I tried to stay present, laughing at the right moments and dutifully singing "Happy Birthday," but my mind kept drifting back to the club, to tattooed hands and green eyes that had looked at me like I was special.
"Earth to Isla.” Tracy waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality. "We're talking about your boxing man. Try to keep up."
"He's not my anything," I protested, though my fingers kept touching my throat, where I could still feel the ghost of his touch.
Bailey thrust her phone at me again, this time showing a video of Adrian in the ring.
His smile was downright feral as he dodged a punch and delivered one of his own. The opponent crumpled like paper.
"Look at him go," she swooned. "God, what I wouldn't give to have a guy like that look at me twice."
She glanced at me. "You're so lucky, Isla. I mean, what are the odds?"
I couldn't tear my eyes away. The Adrian on screen was nothing like the man who held me. He wasn't just fighting; he was playing, and the ring was his playground.
"I can't believe you just left him there," Tracy sighed, pouring more champagne.
"That man could've carried you out like a princess. Scratch that—he looks like he could've thrown you over his shoulder like a caveman."
A shiver ran through me at the thought, and I quickly drowned it in champagne.