Chapter 2. I Want Him

Ava

The ride home or wherever this was stretched into an eternity of silence.

I sat rigid in the passenger seat, the SUV’s engine humming like a distant thunderstorm. My backpack rested at my feet, forgotten, as my eyes betrayed me time and again, stealing glances at Adrian Blackwood who claimed to be my step dad.

The way his large hands gripped the steering wheel, veins flexing with effortless control.

He was a masterpiece of contradictions, polished danger, sinful allure.

Every stolen look made my pulse race, heat creeping up my neck. What was wrong with me? This was my supposed stepfather. Freshly minted family.

Yet, my brain refused to compute, looping on the impossibility of his perfection.

He caught me mid stare, those gray eyes flicking sideways without turning his head.

A smirk tugged at his lips, low and teasing. “Keep staring like that, Ava, and I might just melt into the seat. Or worse, pull over to give you a better view.”

I cleared my throat, heat flooding my cheeks as I snapped my gaze to the window.

“I wasn’t... I mean, just zoning out,” I mumbled, cursing my voice for sounding so breathy.

Front and center now, I focused on the dashboard, willing my heart to slow. Kidnapper vibes? Still lingering. But melting? God, the arrogance.

We turned onto a private drive lined with manicured oaks, the gates swinging open automatically.

The house, no, mansion loomed ahead like something out of a fairy tale gone dark.

Towering stone facade, ivy clinging walls, floor to ceiling windows that screamed old money.

A palace for kings, not college dropouts. My stomach twisted. This couldn’t be real. Mom was a nurse scraping by on shifts, her hot man couldn’t own this.

Liar. Kidnapper confirmed. I half expected armed guards or a dungeon basement.

Adrian parked in the circular driveway, the SUV purring to a stop. He killed the engine and stepped out, circling to my door with that predatory grace.

He opened it, extending a hand. “Welcome home, Ava.” His tone was smooth, almost gentle, but his eyes held that storm.

I hesitated, then took his hand, warm, calloused palm enveloping mine. He collected my backpack effortlessly, slinging it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing, then helped me out.

His touch lingered on my elbow, steadying me as my sneakers hit the ground.

He led me up the grand steps, his presence a magnetic force at my side.

Inside, the foyer alone dwarfed our old apartment. Marble floors gleamed under a crystal chandelier, walls lined with abstract art that probably cost more than my tuition.

Adrian set my bag down and turned to me, gesturing expansively. “Let me give you the tour. This is the grand entrance, which doubles as a gallery for my collection.”

He pointed to the paintings, explaining each one’s artist and story with casual expertise. Arrogant, but knowledgeable.

We moved through the living room, a bar stocked with top shelf liquor. “Kitchen’s state of the art, every chef’s dream. I cook when I can, Elena loves my steak.”

Elena. Mom.

Up the sweeping staircase, he detailed the guest wing, home gym, and library stacked with books.

“Your sanctuary,” he said, opening double doors to a room that stole my breath.

My room?

King sized bed draped in silk sheets, balcony overlooking manicured gardens, ensuite bathroom with a rainfall shower. “Elena insisted on stocking it. Said you’d need space to breathe after college stress.”

I wandered in, fingers trailing the vanity. The wardrobe, naturally, was bursting, dresses, jeans, tops, all my exact size.

Tags still on, designer labels winking. Creepy? Or thoughtful? I showered quickly, hot water washing away the day’s grime and confusion.

Towel dried, I eyed the options. A crop top, soft, black, hugging my curves and a skirt, very short, denim that barely skimmed my thighs.

I hated to admit it, but a thrill shot through me. What if he saw? What if those eyes lingered? Slipping them on, I checked the mirror, legs for days, midriff exposed.

Sinful. Fitting, given the man downstairs.

I padded out barefoot, the cool floor sending shivers up my legs. Adrian was at the dining table, a spread laid out, grilled chicken, fresh salad, wine for him, sparkling water for me.

He looked up, eyes darkening as they raked over me. “That dress? It looks hot on you. Stunning.”

Blush exploded across my face, heat pooling low. “Thanks,” I muttered, sliding into the seat opposite.

Dinner was surreal, he served portions with a fork that brushed my plate teasingly close to my hand, his knee grazing mine under the table.

Accidental?

As we ate, he leaned forward to refill my water, his arm extending across me, bicep flexing inches from my chest.

Done eating, I reached for the plates, stacking them instinctively. His hand shot out, capturing mine. Skin on skin. “I’ve got it,” he murmured, voice husky.

He held my gaze a beat too long, thumb tracing a slow circle on my knuckles before releasing. My skin tingled as he cleared the table, muscles rippling under his shirt.

He returned, wiping his hands on a towel, and I blurted the question burning in me. “How’d you meet my mom?” Anything to break the spell.

He settled into the chair beside me, closer than necessary. “Hospital fundraiser, six months back. Elena was volunteering, radiant, as always. We talked, she mentioned you. Sparks flew. She’s fire, your mother. Married her last month in a quiet ceremony. Wanted to surprise her daughter properly.”

I stared, mesmerized by his lips forming the words, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Surprise? Understatement. “She’s... happy?”

“Ecstatic.” His eyes locked on mine, noticing my trance. A slow smile. “You’re staring again, Ava.”

Heat flared. Desperate for distraction, I spotted the remote on a high shelf by the TV wall teasingly out of reach for my height.

“Movie time,” I said, standing on tiptoes, fingers straining. No dice.

Warmth pressed behind me suddenly, Adrian, closing the distance. His body aligned with mine, chest to my back, and oh God, the hard length of his cock pressed firmly against my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt.

Erection? Undeniable, thick and insistent.

My breath caught, core clenching involuntarily as he reached up effortlessly, his arm brushing my side.

The contact was fire, his heat seeping through, hips subtly rocking once, pinning me. Sinful friction. I froze, pulse thundering, every nerve alive.

He grabbed the remote, voice a low rumble in my ear. “Got it.”

But I twisted to flee, escape the temptation, and collided breast first into his chest. Soft curves met unyielding muscle, my nipples hardened instantly against him, traitors.

I stood frozen, looking up into those gray eyes, burning, pupils dilated, gaze dipping unmistakably to the low neckline of my crop top, as if seeing straight through to bare skin.

Time suspended. His face inched closer, breath mingling with mine, lips parting. Kiss? My eyes fluttered shut, body arching instinctively, lips tingling in anticipation.

But no, his cheek grazed mine, warm stubble rasping, as he leaned past me. Click. The TV hummed to life from the socket beside. He pulled back, remote in hand, smirking. “There. All set.”

I bit my lip hard, cussing under my breath, “Fuck, tease.” cheeks flaming. Teased? Tormented. He was playing, and I was losing.

Then, an alarm chimed at the.

Adrian’s smirk widened. “Guess my wife’s home. Your mum.” He whispered it, lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I felt like giving him a kick right in those smug abs.

Or pulling him closer and let him fuck me till I can’t take it anymore.

But mum’s back home.