Chapter Three
A t precisely eight o’clock, I tapped on his door, nerves twisting in my stomach. The door swung open, and there he stood. It was infuriating how good he looked. His gym shorts clung to his muscular thighs, and his T-shirt stretched across his chest like it was custom made for him. His presence filled the doorway, radiating confidence.
“Scarlett.” My name rolled off his tongue, low and slow, as his eyes raked over me. “Come in.”
I stepped inside, hyper-aware of his presence, as he shut the door and slid the deadbolt into place. The click echoed in the dimly lit space, and my heart pounded in response.
His apartment caught me off guard. It was nothing like I’d imagined—clean, minimalist, with carefully curated art adorning the walls. Masculine, yet unexpectedly refined.
“It’s like a gallery in here,” I said, unable to mask the genuine awe in my voice.
“I’m a bit of a collector,” he replied, heading toward the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
I wandered through the space, my fingers trailing along the edge of a sleek, modern couch. The paintings drew me in—genuine abstracts, their vivid colors practically pulsing with emotion. Had he chosen these pieces himself? The steely gray walls matched Adrian’s cold demeanor, but the art hinted at something deeper. Something I hadn’t expected.
“Just water if we’re working out,” I said, realizing I’d forgotten why I was here for a moment.
He smirked, his gaze lingering.
“Sure. But maybe I’ll chill a bottle of wine for later. I’ve got all night.”
His voice carried a breathiness that sent a shiver through me, and an ache pulsed low in my stomach. I pushed the feeling away, steeling myself.
“No need for that. Let’s just get this over with.”
My eyes darted around, searching for his workout equipment.
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“Always in a rush to get away from me,” he said with a sigh. “Fine.”
He gestured toward a door across the room and opened it, revealing a private gym. A squat rack, bench, and weights—clearly a functional space, though a desk and computer hinted at another purpose.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said, his tone shifting to something serious.
I approached the squat rack, loading the bar with more weight than I should have. His eyebrow arched in disapproval.
“Start lighter,” he instructed, his voice steady but firm.
I rolled my eyes but complied, stripping a plate from each side. Stepping under the bar, I squared my shoulders and tried to act like I knew what I was doing. I didn’t, but I wasn’t about to let him see that.
He moved behind me, his presence commanding and close. His fingers brushed against my arms, guiding the bar into position on my shoulders.
“Back straight,” he said, his voice low in my ear.
His touch lingered a moment too long before he stepped back.
“Let’s see how low you can go.”
I lowered myself, the bar pressing into my shoulders. My muscles strained, and I could feel his gaze on me—intense and lingering. Like a physical force.
“That’s good,” he whispered. “Keep going until you can’t.”
My legs trembled, but I kept moving, each rep feeling heavier than the last.
“You’re stronger than you look,” he murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice.
I fought it, but a small smile curved at my lips. For the first time, I wondered if I could actually enjoy this.
“Now, onto the bench,” he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I laid back, my hair pooling around me. He hovered above, his jaw tight in concentration as his hands guided mine into position on the bar.
“Push,” he commanded.
The bar rose and fell steadily as I followed his lead. His eyes never left me, watching my every movement with an unnerving intensity.
Eventually, we shifted to the mat, where he demonstrated core exercises with practiced ease. He held himself up with one arm, muscles rippling under the strain. Not a tremble or a falter—just seamless control. The sight of him drew a pulse low in my belly, and I swallowed hard, my breath hitching as I fought the heat threatening to crawl lower.
Who cares if he looks like a god?
Beneath his flawless exterior was a man who drove me insane. I needed to remember that. Asshole , I reminded myself, dragging my eyes away from the hypnotic way his muscles clenched.
A total asshole.
When it was my turn, I lasted a humiliating five seconds before collapsing onto the mat. Running and Pilates hadn’t prepared me for this.
“You’re just starting out,” he said, his tone unusually encouraging.
“You’ll get better. I’ll make you a plan.”
“That’s nice of you,” I said, caught off guard by the unexpected softness in his voice. For a moment, it felt like I was talking to someone else entirely—a version of him I hadn’t met before.
“But I’m not training for anything,” I added.
His expression shifted. The momentary warmth vanished, replaced by something darker, sharper. The air between us grew heavier, pressing down on my chest.
“You are,” he said, his voice low and sure.
“Oh?” I teased, though the weight of his gaze made it fall flat. “What’s my grand goal then?”
“You’ll find out soon,” he replied, his lips twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
The air between us was thick, heavy with tension. My instincts screamed at me to leave. I stood, my heart suddenly racing.
“I should go now,” I said, my voice pitched too high.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly, moving closer.
“I’m done,” I insisted, trying to steady my voice.
He shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “You haven’t stretched yet. Flexibility is important.”
I let out a long sigh, partial relief washing over me. Maybe I was imagining things. “Fine,” I whispered. “Let’s make it quick.”
“Lay on your back,” he commanded, his voice low.
I obeyed, tension building in my body as I lowered myself down. I exhaled a shaky breath as I waited for his next instruction. He moved closer, lifting my leg, pressing it toward my chest. My pulse raced as he leaned, his chest inches from mine. My mouth opened to protest, to tell him he was too close.
Then, I felt it.
His bulge pressed into me where my legs were spread. He held my leg high, pushing me deeper into the stretch. I held my breath, convincing myself he didn’t know what he was doing. But then his body rocked—subtle and deliberate. The stretch pulsed with a rhythm I couldn’t ignore.
His cock grew harder. I could feel just how huge he was, his size impossible to dismiss.
I bit my lip, fighting against the heat rising inside me. But a low moan escaped before I could stop it, shattering the fragile silence.
“You like that?” he breathed, his voice cutting through the haze, acknowledging the very thing I was desperate to bury.
“No,” I lied, my voice trembling as I shut my eyes, willing this moment to disappear. But when I opened them, nothing had changed. I was still there, pinned beneath him, his cock pressing into me, hard and unrelenting.
“That’s how badly I want you,” he continued. “How badly I’ve wanted you since that first day.”
My pulse pounded in my ears as my mind searched for an escape, looking for something—anything—to break the moment.
“I heard that sound you made,” he taunted, rocking his hips against me. A slow, mocking smile curled across his lips. “You want me. You always did.”
I whimpered, looking up at him, my eyes pleading.
But he shook his head, his dominance suffocating me. “You were such a little tease. Never responding to my letters, even while you stared at me every chance you got.”
Anger ignited like a fire inside me, burning away the fear.
“I stared at you because I couldn’t believe your audacity,” I spat, my voice cutting. “And that moan was involuntary. It would have happened if you were hideous.”
He laughed, his body shaking with cruel amusement. Gently, he lowered my leg, only to grab the other, pushing it high toward my ear.
“So, you admit you think I’m attractive?” he teased, his cock still pressing into me through the thin fabric of his gym shorts and my leggings.
I glared, shaking my head.
“It doesn’t matter what you look like,” I said dryly, summoning every ounce of defiance I could. “You’re so goddamn cocky.”
“Interesting word choice,” his gaze dropped to the spot where his bulge rubbed against me. “Seems like you like my cock,” he hissed, grinding it against me.
I stifled a whimper, my body betraying me as my mind fought for control.
“You always played innocent.” He leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “You aren’t as innocent as you pretend to be, are you?”
Suddenly, he rose to his feet. I scrambled to follow, praying he’d let me leave.
Relief flooded me when he opened the door, and walked to the foyer. It was over. The workout had been intense, eye-opening. It told me everything I needed to know about Adrian. He was still as obsessed and cruel as ever.
I forced politeness, not wanting to provoke him. “Well, uh, thank you, I guess,” I said awkwardly, reaching for my coat.
His grin widened as he watched me.
“You sure you don’t want to stay for a drink?”
“Definitely not,” I replied, my voice flat.
My phone pinged in my pocket, and I ignored it.
But Adrian’s smile faltered. “Someone waiting for you?”
“No,” I lied.
“Read the message then,” he demanded.
Reluctantly, I fumbled for my phone, opening the notification. A smirk formed on my lips as I read aloud.
“You done with that creep yet?”
It was from Emma.
Adrian rolled his eyes, pretending to be unaffected, but his gaze flickered toward another unread message.
“You missed one from Ryan,” he said, his voice sharp as a blade.
I exhaled, bracing myself. As much as I knew it would anger him, it was probably best he knew I was seeing someone. I opened the message, smiling at the words.
“Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”
I looked up. Adrian’s face had dropped, his expression a mask of disappointment and something darker.
“Who is he?” he growled.
“Just a guy I’m seeing,” I said casually, keeping my tone even. It was new—I couldn’t exactly call him my boyfriend.
Before I could react, he snatched the phone from my hand. His fingers flew over the screen, typing quickly. My eyes widened in horror as I saw him press send.
“Sorry Ryan, I can’t tomorrow… I started working out with my new trainer. I’m sore everywhere. He worked me hard.”
He smirked, satisfaction written all over his face.
“How dare you,” I began, my voice shaking. “That’s my personal—”
He silenced me with a finger brushing against my lips, his gaze a quiet warning.
“I told you you’d be mine one day,” he growled, stepping closer, his presence suffocating. “I was going to wait, to let you warm up to me.” His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked pained. “But since another guy is closing in, I need to act fast.
“To make you mine.
“Tonight.”