Chapter 6 – The Devil’s Touch

Tamara pushed her food around the plate, her appetite long gone. The air at the table felt heavier than usual, especially with Adrian sitting across from her, watching her like he always did—calm on the surface, but with something darker underneath.

"You’ve barely touched your food," he said.

"I’m not hungry," she replied, her voice low.

"You only had two bites."

"I said I’m not hungry." Her tone turned sharp, her eyes fixed on the fork like it could somehow protect her from him.

Adrian didn’t say another word. Instead, he stood and walked around the table, stopping right beside her. Tamara tensed as he leaned down, his lips just inches from her ear.

"You’re testing my patience, Tamara."

A shiver ran down her spine, but she stood anyway, ignoring him. She just wanted to go upstairs and be alone. The last thing she wanted was more of his dominance or twisted charm tonight.

But of course, he followed her.

She barely had time to breathe before he appeared in her room, leaning against the wall like he had every right to be there.

"I’m tired," she muttered, heading for her bed.

"You’re upset because I touched you earlier," he said, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"You had no right," she shot back.

"You gave me every right the moment you signed that contract," he replied, stepping closer.

Her words caught in her throat as he moved in.

Then suddenly—he kissed her.

Not rough or demanding like before. This time it was slow… almost hesitant. She should have pushed him away. She wanted to. But her body didn’t listen. Her hands clutched his shirt, holding on as the kiss deepened, as heat sparked in places she wished it wouldn’t.

Adrian's hands slid to her waist, and before she could think twice, he lifted her effortlessly and laid her on the bed. He hovered over her, his dark eyes searching hers.

She didn’t see control in them this time.

She saw something else.

He kissed her again—her jaw, her neck, the corners of her eyes where tears had dried. His hands traced over her skin like he was discovering her for the first time.

This wasn’t like the first night.

There was no cruelty in his touch now.

No punishment.

Only need.

He whispered her name like a plea, not a command. And when she let herself open to him—even just a little—it wasn't about debt or control anymore.

It was about something neither of them understood yet.

When it was over, he didn’t walk away.

He stayed there, holding her, breathing with her.

For the first time… Tamara didn’t feel like his toy.

She felt like something he couldn’t let go of—even if he tried.