Sabrina's Pov

The second round was slower. Messier.

Adrian was flushed from head to toe, his skin warm and dewy beneath the city lights spilling through the penthouse windows.

His chest rose and fell with shallow, ragged breaths as he leaned back against the headboard.

I climbed onto his lap with certainty. My body knew where it belonged now.

On him. Around him. With him.

“Are you sore?”

“A little.”

I sank down with a soft gasp, burying my face in his neck as he filled me again. “Fuck, Sabrina,” he hissed, his fingers digging into my hips. “You sure?”

I nodded, lips brushing his ear. “Just warm,” I whispered, breathless and already trembling.

There was a slow, simmering ache in my thighs, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I rolled my hips with steady, aching precision, chasing the friction, chasing the high I didn’t know I still had in me.

His eyes stayed on mine, watching, burning. Every little shift of his body beneath me made my breath catch. Every slide of him inside made my pulse scatter.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You really okay?”

I didn’t answer. I just leaned in and kissed him. Slow and deep.

Like I meant to ruin him.

And he let me.

His hands gripped my waist, guiding me gently, grounding me. I moved in slow circles, grinding down on him as I clung to his shoulders. His chest was hot under my palms, muscles flexing with restraint. He wanted more, I could feel it but he let me lead. Let me take what I needed.

“Adrian—oh my God—”

“You’re doing so good,”

I kissed his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. Left traces of me on his skin like I didn’t want him to forget. Like I knew he’d try to.

His lips moved down my neck, kissing my pulse.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he growled.

The orgasm hit me like a wave, shaking me apart in his arms.

Adrian caught me as I fell forward, his arms wrapping around me like they were meant to be there. He thrust up once, twice more and then stilled, groaning my name.

We stayed like that, tangled and sticky with sweat, skin pressed against skin, his heart thudding against my cheek like a war drum.

By the third round, we were half-asleep but still touching. His fingertips brushed my waist.

My hand slid lazily over his chest. There was no urgency left, only want. Soft, slow, aching want.

He kissed me again. Kisses that had nothing to do with lust anymore. Kisses that were just closeness.

When he entered me again, it was slow. Careful.

His hips rocked gently against mine like a lullaby. Just the sound of breath and skin and want.

I came again with a quiet whimper, my body limp against his. He followed with a groan, face buried in my neck as he whispered my name like it was sacred.

And for one stupid moment I let myself believe this meant something.

—

I woke up to a view that wasn’t mine.

The room glowed under the early morning sun, and for a second, I forgot everything. I forgot that I was lying in a stranger’s bed, not just any stranger. Adrian Marks.

My stomach twisted as the memories crashed over me. His hands, his mouth, the way he looked at me like I was something he wanted to devour and protect at the same time.

He was lethal.

I thought I could handle it.

That I could walk into his world, into that penthouse, and keep my dignity. Keep my distance. Keep my heart locked away, take his money and let him fade into the background of my life.

Instead, here I was, lying on silk sheets that smelled faintly of him.

I sat up slowly, clutching the sheet to my chest as I glanced around. The penthouse was sleek, all glass and sharp edges, minimal but somehow intimidating. It screamed power, just like him.

And then I saw him.

Adrian stood near the floor-to-ceiling window, dressed in nothing but black slacks, his broad back to me as he nursed a cup of coffee. He looked conflicted.

He turned, as if he could feel my eyes on him.

“You’re awake,” His gaze drifted down to where I clutched the sheet. His lips curved faintly, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Come have breakfast,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I should go,” I muttered.

Adrian set his coffee down and walked toward me, each step deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, towering over me. “You agreed to this arrangement, Sabrina. Don’t tell me you’re already thinking about backing out.”

My chest tightened. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

His hand came up, fingers brushing my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “I do. And that’s enough.”

The arrogance should have annoyed me. Instead, it made my pulse race.

Before I could respond, Adrian straightened and walked to the table near the window. He picked up a small black box and brought it to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, hesitant.

“Open it.”

Inside was a delicate gold bracelet, simple but so beautiful it made my breath hitch.

“I can’t take this,” I said immediately. “I don’t want your gifts.”

“It’s not a gift,” he interrupted, his tone cool but firm. “It’s a reminder.”

“Of what?”

“That you’re mine now,” he said, his eyes holding mine.

“I’m not going to hurt you. But I will take what I want. And right now, I want you to stay.”

The quiet authority in his voice sent a shiver down my spine.

I hated him.

I wanted him.

I finally slid out of bed, wrapping the sheet around me like armor. He didn’t move, just watched with that sharp, unreadable gaze as I padded toward the door.

The breakfast spread waiting there was inviting, warm pastries, coffee that smelled heavenly.

“This is too much,” I muttered.

“It’s just breakfast,” he said, pouring me a cup like he’d done this a thousand times.

I sat, sipping the coffee, trying not to look at him.

But every time I glanced up, he was already watching me.

Halfway through breakfast, I caught something strange in his expression. A flicker of something softer.

“What?” I asked, wary.

He shook his head, almost like he was irritated with himself. “Nothing.”

But I could feel it, he was rattled.

“You’ll come back tonight,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

I hesitated. “I can’t promise—”

“You will,” he said, his voice low and certain.

“Because you already know you want to.”

I hated him for being right.

My phone buzzed on the table.

Unknown Number: You think you’re special?

You’re just another girl on his radar.