Chapter 2
His name, on my skin.
After class I forced myself to walk away as if I hadn't been stealing glances at him all hour, and as if his eyes hadn't been burning into me just the same. I left the lecture hall with Mr. Eddison, exchanged polite farewells, and turned down the path toward my dorm.
Three buildings away, just as the silence of the evening wrapped around me, a voice stopped me in my tracks. Deep, commanding, it crawled over my skin like a touch I couldn't refuse.
"Hey, pretty," he said.
The sound of him alone made my pulse betray me.
He stepped closer, the air between us tightening. His gaze never wavered as his lips curved. "Adams," he said slowly, as if savoring the name for me. "And you are?"
"Mila…" My voice trembled. "Mila Damson."
His smirk deepened. "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
I bit down on my lower lip, desperate to look unbothered while every inch of me screamed otherwise. God, he was art, sculpted and dangerous, standing far too close.
"Nice talking to you," he said at last, his eyes lingering on mine like a possession he wasn't ready to claim. "I'll catch you later."
And then he turned. Just like that. No number. No Instagram. Not even my TikTok handle. Nothing to hold onto him.
I stood there, dumbfounded, the ghost of his voice still clawing at my skin. Wasn't he supposed to ask? Something, anything, to keep me tethered?
The thought hit me so hard I let out a strangled scream. Heads snapped toward me, including his. His smirk sharpened with amusement, and I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.
Flushed, humiliated, and more breathless than I'd ever admit, I bolted, craving the very boy I should have despised.
---
I had a burning desire for him, Adams. His name lingered on my lips like a forbidden spell, and I longed to explore every part of him. I vowed I would.
Still, I had to be careful. I could not afford to look desperate, though inside I already was.
The next day in Business Ethics, I pretended not to notice him, even as every nerve in me screamed for his attention. I strutted past, swaying my fair-skinned hips, and felt his stare scorch into me. When I raised my compact mirror to check my reflection, I could almost see him watching, almost.
That evening, I went to the convenience store for food, mostly junk, and fate decided to play a trick. I collided with a tall white man in a gray suit. His face was handsome but shadowed with irritation at our clash. He looked like he had walked straight out of one of those Italian mafia films I had seen sharp, dangerous, untouchable.
I muttered under my breath, grabbed my things, and brushed past him. He did not move, just seethed, and I could feel his anger like heat rising off his body.
Fuck you, I snapped aloud, letting the words fly as I pushed through the glass door and let it slam behind me.
---
That was a nice one, I whispered to myself, swinging the plastic bags of junk food as I made my way toward the bus station.
The evening air was warm, humming with excitement. Music throbbed from the second floor of the dorm, where students had gathered for a party, laughter spilling through the open windows. Our RA had given them permission, which was rare. Cool, I smirked, but I had no plans to join. My mood was elsewhere.
I climbed the stairs slowly, lost in my thoughts, until seven steps from the third floor landing I froze.
Adams!!!!
He emerged from a dorm room almost naked, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that clung to his hips. His body gleamed, every muscle slick and defined as if carved from bronze. Behind him came a pride of men, equally bare, their oiled torsos shining under the hallway light. My breath caught in my throat.
A gasp tore from me, my knees buckling. The rail beneath my hand seemed to slip like it too had been greased with oil. The world tilted.
And then Adams.
He was on me in an instant, his arm wrapping firmly around my waist before I could fall. My bags of junk slipped from my left hand, scattering down the stairs, while my right hand failed, clutching my handbag as if it were my last lifeline.
I squeezed my eyes shut, dizzy, until his voice cut through me, low, teasing, commanding.
Lady of junks huh?
My lashes fluttered open, and there he was. His face inches from mine, his lips curled into a smile that promised both danger and pleasure.
You are one pretty, nasty little thing, he murmured as he steadied me. His chest brushed against my arm, slick with oil, and I felt the heat of him seeping through my clothes. He set me upright again, his eyes never leaving mine, as if he was memorizing the way I trembled in his hold.
In that moment my mind betrayed me, flashing images of him pinning me against a hard surface, his body pressing into mine with the force I craved. Desire throbbed through me, raw and urgent. I wanted him right there, right then. But the bastard only walked away, leaving me burning, aching, desperate for more.
We will be seeing each other around, right? His voice was velvet wrapped in steel, leaving no room for denial.
Holy shit, yes, I screamed inside myself, though my lips stayed silent. My insides danced like a child given it's first sweet.
He walked away then, muscles flexing as he reached for a bottle of body oil. His smile lingered, wicked and knowing, as if he had already claimed me.