KISS'S POV
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hit me the moment I stepped into the dining area.
It was rich, warm, intoxicating—just like the man walking ahead of me.
Sunlight poured through the tall glass windows, reflecting off the marble floors and the polished dining table that could probably seat royalty. Everything about this place screamed power. Control. Wealth.
And Adrian Goodwill fit into it like he was carved for this world.
I tried not to stare.
But I failed wholly.
He moved quiet dominance, each step confident, each gesture deliberate. There was no wasted motion in him. No uncertainty. And for some reason, that made my chest tighten.
"Sit," he said calmly, pulling out a chair.
It wasn't a command.
But it felt like one.
I sat anyway, my fingers gripping the edge of the chair as if it were the only thing grounding me. My stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from awareness. From him.
Breakfast was served quickly. Scrambled eggs, toast, fruits, coffee. Simple. Elegant.
The silence stretched.
Cutlery clinked softly. Somewhere, music hummed low. I focused on my plate, pushing the eggs around like they'd offended me personally.
I could feel his eyes on me.
Not staring.
Watching.
"You don't eat much," he said at last.
I shrugged. "I'm not that hungry."
His eyebrow lifted slightly. "Stress?"
"Maybe," I muttered under my breath.
The word maybe barely left my mouth when his hand brushed against mine as he reached for the salt.
It wasn't accidental.
It was slow.
Intentional.
My breath hitched.
I tried to pull my hand away subtly, but his fingers lingered, warm and firm against my skin. He didn't look at our hands. He looked at my face.
Waiting.
Testing.
Then his lips curved into that dangerous, arrogant smirk.
"You know," he murmured, voice low, intimate, "you're way too tempting for someone who should be scared of me."
I choked on my juice.
"Excuse me?" I whispered, my heart racing wildly as I cleaned my lips.
He leaned forward, elbows resting casually on the table. Our faces were suddenly too close. His cologne wrapped around me—expensive, dark, addictive.
"I said," he repeated slowly, eyes flicking to my lips, "you're tempting."
My pulse thundered in my ears.
"And if you don't watch yourself," he added, voice dropping further, "I might lose control."
I swallowed hard.
I should have been scared.
I should have stood up and walked away.
Instead, my body leaned in slightly, betraying me.
His gaze dropped again—to my mouth.
My lips suddenly felt dry.
For one terrifying second, I thought he would kiss me right there.
Instead, he leaned in… then pulled back.
Smirking.
"Not yet," he whispered. "Breakfast first."
I hated him.
I hated how my heart was racing.
And I hated how badly I wanted him to stop teasing me and just—
I stood abruptly. "You said you'd take me home."
His eyes darkened with satisfaction.
"After breakfast," he said calmly.
---
Later — ADRIAN'S POV
I'd lost control the moment she walked into my dining room wearing my shirt which showcases her flawless body.
I'd lost it when her fingers trembled around her glass.
And I completely lost it when she looked at me like she didn't know whether to run or stay.
I hadn't touched her.
But God knew how badly I wanted to.
When she finally finished eating, I stood and picked up my car keys.
"I'll take you home."
She hesitated. Of course she did.
But she nodded.
The drive was quiet. Too quiet.
Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. I pretended to focus on the road, but every second my awareness was locked on her—her scent, her presence, the way she bit her lip when she was thinking.
"I don't understand you," she said suddenly.
I glanced at her.
"Why do you act like this?" she continued softly. "So controlling. Protective. Dangerous."
I smirked. "That's because I am."
She scoffed lightly. "You're impossible."
My hand brushed against hers—just barely.
Her pulse jumped under my fingertips.
I felt it.
That was my breaking point.
I slowed the car and pulled over.
She looked at me, startled. "Why are we stopping?"
I turned toward her.
Our faces were inches apart.
"Because if I don't," I said quietly, "I'm going to do something I shouldn't."
Her breath trembled.
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't, Adrian…"
I should've listened.
But she leaned closer too.
Our lips brushed—soft, hesitant, electric.
Then she kissed me back.
The kiss deepened instantly, hunger colliding with restraint. My hand slid to her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers curled into my shirt.
The world disappeared.
When we finally pulled apart, breathless, she rested her forehead against my chest.
And I knew.
This girl was already mine.
Even if she didn't know it yet.
KISS'S POV
The moment I stepped out of Adrian's car, reality crashed down on me.
What had I just done?
I didn't look back. I couldn't. My legs carried me into my apartment like I was running from a crime scene.
Because it felt like one.
I spent the entire night replaying the kiss.
His hands.
His voice.
The way he looked at me like I was something dangerous and precious all at once.
I shouldn't want him.
Men like Adrian Goodwill didn't come with happy endings.
They came with scars yet I'm ready for it