Chapter 15 Adam
ADAM
I finally find Drew hidden in one of the work buildings with Greyson, eating lunch.
The door creaks as I open it, and the smell of sawdust and paint hits me, grounding me in the moment.
Despite that they’re looking at each other like I’ve stepped into something charged with intent, I close the door behind me.
The quiet between them feels thick, almost like I’ve interrupted a secret. My pulse kicks up, warning me this isn’t just a casual lunch break.
The way her shoulders stiffen and she looks pointedly at her food to take another bite nails my suspicions.
She doesn’t even flick her eyes toward me, and that tells me more than any words could. Drew always meets my gaze—unless she’s hiding something.
“You’re avoiding me.”
Greyson’s brow jump with amusement and knowing, the kind of knowing that says he’s seen this dance before. She runs when she feels rejected. Stuffs everything down into her drive and defiance.
I can see it in the way she shrugs at me.
“What if I am?” Her voice isn’t harsh, but it’s not soft either. Flippant. Devoid of the emotion I know is simmering just under the surface.
There’s a tremor under the coolness, like a storm warning. She might sound nonchalant, but her fingers are white-knuckling the edge of the container.
Will it explode if I poke at it?
Fire burns through my chest. If she thinks I won’t hash shit out in front of Greyson, she’s got another thing coming.
“Because I leaned you over my knee and spanked you, or because I wouldn’t touch you after?”
Red infuses her cheeks, and electricity snaps in her eyes as they narrow at me. She’s caught between fury and something else she won’t name—desire, shame, maybe both. It flickers across her face so quickly, but I catch it.
Yes, princess, if you didn’t want your dirty laundry aired in front of an audience, you should have come to me to address this. But no, you made me chase you, and now you have to deal with those consequences.
Greyson laughs softly, and she narrows a stony look at him, too. He holds his hands up, sealing up his lunch. “As much as I would enjoy the show, I’m going to head to the Lodge for a fresh cup of coffee.”
Drew huffs but watches him go in silence like he’s a traitor for abandoning her to me.
Her eyes track him to the door and stay there, like maybe she’s hoping he’ll change his mind and come back. No such luck.
Her fingers curl around her fork like she’s bracing herself for impact.
I step closer to take up more space, to keep her attention on me, to force her to confront me and the emotions she doesn’t want to process.
My boots thud softly against the floor, each step deliberate, closing off her escape route inch by inch.
Her sharp gaze returns, and I want her even more.
I enjoy the way she fights with me too much.
That she doesn’t bend to my will immediately.
That when she’s cornered, she doesn’t back down.
Even though she ran from me.
I’ve got her cornered now. And she’s not going anywhere.
The air between us thickens with unspoken things.
“I was not rejecting you. Don’t mistake a punishment as rejection.”
A slow breath fills her lungs, expanding her chest, drawing me closer. Fuck, do I want to touch her.
I clench my hands and release them to soothe that ache.
“What gives you the right to punish me for behavior you don’t like?” Her voice cracks slightly with emotion, one she tries to tamp back down.
I honestly hadn’t thought it through when I did that. Other than the jealousy that tore through me at the sight of her teasing Gabe with that candy cane and my need to have my hands on her…I don’t have a good excuse.
A reaction to having my patience being tested. My authority. My claim on her.
“The decade or more of experience under my belt. Of reading people and situations. The fact that I know you enjoyed it. Every second of it until I stopped.” I lean in closer, taking her food container and setting it aside.
My fingers brush hers briefly; she jerks back like she’s been shocked. “I’ve been very clear about wanting you, so what makes you think I plan to do anything that will push you away instead of pushing you to know what you like, what you want?”
Because I want you to want me.
The way her breath shudders gives me hope, even though she doesn’t speak up.
“It’s about being dominant, not dominating.”
Now, her lip is between her teeth. Does she like the sound of being dominated?
Is she falling back into patterns she’s been stuck in before?
What did those men do to her to have her so hot and cold?
The thought tightens my chest. I want to rip the ghosts of those men out of her head and replace them with something steady, something real.
All the unanswered questions have me pushing her more than I intend.
But I want a genuine reaction out of her.
One that might put me out of my misery.
“Given your attraction to older men, it seems like the type of dynamic you’re searching for.”
Tipping her chair back, I close more of the gap between us, slowly invading her space, giving her nowhere to hide from me. My knee braces between hers to keep her where I want her.
Her fingertips lift to my chest. Pressing without pushing.
I let her feel the way my heart is thundering at her proximity.
“I should punish you for avoiding me instead of confronting me.” That makes her nails dig in, and my muscles tighten in anticipation. “But I don’t want that right now.”
“What do you want?”
Why does that feel like a trick question?
I lift her chin to force her to look at me, and I search her eyes. There are so many answers I could give.
I want to kiss you and feel you sigh against my mouth in contentment. I want to tuck you under me and discover where all that fire comes from. I want to feel you melt against my touch. To abandon your restraints and hand over control willingly.
Most importantly, I want to make room for you in my life and for you to make room for me in yours. To not question my intentions and let me care for you.
It’s a dangerous confession, even inside my own head, because wanting her this way isn’t about a fleeting moment—it’s about shifting the ground beneath both our feet.
Breath expands my chest against her palm.
“Besides all the physical things lingering in my thoughts. Pretty much all day…” I revel in the way her pupils dilate. It’s nice to know the attraction is mutual. “I want to see you outside of work. I want you to let me take you out. Let me prove I’m not one of those assholes you’ve dated before.”
Because I want more than just sex.
As young as she is, I want her as a partner—someone to push me, be honest with me, keep me in line when I’m too bullheaded to see it otherwise…
Her touch softens, and I stroke her arms and brace her by her shoulders. “Let me take you out. One night. Just us. No Lodge, no work. No running.”
Her hesitation tells me everything—she wants to say yes, she’s just scared of what it means.
My palm slides up one shoulder to cup the back of her neck, to keep her here with me instead of letting her give into her temptation to look away, to hide her reactions from me.
Her pulse flutters against my thumb. A small, frantic beat. I match it, steady, willing her to believe I’m not like them.
Her vulnerability hits me. Too many have mistreated her. I can’t let that stand.
“I’ll take you out. Tonight. You’ll let me. And you’ll see the difference between me and them.”
Sharp defiance blazes there now, and her nails curl tighter against my chest. She’s still not pushing me away. It’s her answer, even if she won’t give me the words.
I smile slowly, deliberately. “Good girl.”