Chocolate Cosmos

Chapter Four

A soft beam of sunlight peeked through the curtains, warming my face as I stirred awake. For a moment, I forgot where I was—until the faint scent of cedar and whiskey wrapped around me like a second skin, dragging me back to reality.

Adrian.

I blinked my eyes open, my breath catching as the events of the night before came rushing back in vivid, heated detail. The feel of his hands on me, the rough timbre of his voice in my ear, the way he had unraveled me with maddening precision.

I wasn’t alone.

Adrian was lying next to me, his body sprawled lazily across the bed, his head turned slightly toward me. The morning light kissed his sharp jawline and dark waves, making him look almost peaceful—almost. Even in sleep, there was something about him that screamed control, an edge that never dulled.

I tried to shift, but the movement brushed my bare leg against his, and I froze. His warmth was intoxicating, the faintest touch igniting something low in my stomach. I glanced over at him again, my heart skittering as I realized just how close we were.

And then he stirred.

His eyes fluttered open, the deep ocean-blue of his gaze catching the light like a storm over water. For a split second, he looked disoriented, but then his lips curved into a lazy, knowing smirk.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Morning,” I managed, my voice a little too breathy for my liking.

Adrian’s gaze swept over me, lingering on the bare skin of my shoulder where the sheet had slipped down. His smirk deepened as he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Sleep well?” he asked, his tone teasing as his eyes met mine.

I swallowed hard, willing my cheeks not to flush. “Well enough.”

“Liar,” he said softly, leaning closer. “I kept you up, didn’t I?”

His words sent a jolt of heat through me, and I looked away, trying to hide the way my body reacted to him. But Adrian wasn’t having it.

His hand reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against my arm, trailing down to my wrist. The touch was simple, almost innocent, but it set my nerves alight.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Regrets, Leah?”

“No,” I said quickly, meeting his gaze. “No regrets.”

He studied me for a moment, his expression softening in a way that made my chest tighten. “Good,” he murmured.

And then he moved.

Before I could process what was happening, Adrian’s hand was at my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies were pressed together. I gasped, my hands instinctively landing on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palms making my head spin.

“Adrian—”

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. “You’re overthinking again.”

His fingers traced lazy patterns against my hip, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin sheet that barely separated us. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat as his hand slid up my back, pulling me even closer.

“You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?” he said, his voice like silk. “But it’s those eyes of yours that drive me crazy.”

My heart stuttered at his words, and I couldn’t help the way my breath hitched. He was relentless, his gaze locking onto mine like a hunter to its prey.

“Adrian, this is—”

“Intense?” he interrupted, his lips curving into a wicked grin. “That’s one word for it.”

Before I could respond, he tilted my chin up, his thumb brushing lightly over my bottom lip. “You’re not running away from me , Leah,” he murmured.

And then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was demanding, unapologetic, and entirely Adrian. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was raw, full of fire and possession. He kissed me like he was claiming something, like he was daring me to resist.

But I didn’t resist.

I couldn’t.

My hands curled , pulling him closer as the world around us faded away. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me in place as his mouth explored mine with an intensity that left me dizzy.

I felt consumed, like every part of me was being laid bare under his touch. And yet, I wanted more.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing heavily, his forehead rested against mine. His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin.

“I should let you get dressed,” he said, though his voice held no conviction.

“Should you?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to catch my breath.

Adrian grinned, the playful glint in his eyes returning. “Probably not.”

And just like that, the tension shifted. His hands slid down to my waist, his grip firm but gentle. He pulled me closer, his lips ghosting over my collarbone in a way that made my stomach tighten.

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, Leah,” he murmured, his voice dripping with promise.

Hours later, sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the room. Adrian had already left the bed, leaving behind a faint trace of cedar and something darker, something seductive. I stretched, my muscles deliciously sore and my mind still hazy from the morning’s intimate chaos.

As I sat up, my gaze fell on a crumpled piece of fabric lying partially tucked under Adrian’s side of the bed. My brow furrowed as I reached down to pick it up.

A handkerchief.

The material was soft, expensive, the kind of thing I could imagine Adrian carrying in the pocket of some custom-tailored suit. But what stopped me cold was the vivid crimson stain smeared across it. Blood.

My stomach flipped as I stared at the handkerchief, my mind racing. Whose blood was this? And why was it here?

“Lose something?” Adrian’s voice cut through the silence, smooth and unbothered.

I jumped, clutching the handkerchief to my chest as he leaned against the doorway, a mug of coffee in hand. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his hair still slightly damp from a shower. He looked casual, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

But I wasn’t buying it. Not now.

“Adrian,” I said, forcing my voice to stay even. “What is this?”

His gaze flicked to the handkerchief, and for a fraction of a second—so brief I almost missed it—his expression darkened. The tension in his jaw betrayed him, but it was gone just as quickly, replaced by a lazy smirk.

“Looks like a handkerchief,” he said smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the fabric. “Don’t play games with me. Why is it covered in blood?”

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried, like a predator circling its prey. “Why are you snooping through my things, Leah?”

“I wasn’t—” I broke off, shaking my head. “It was under the bed. I wasn’t snooping.”

Adrian stopped a few feet away, his intense gaze locking onto mine. For the first time, the easy charm he wore like armor seemed to crack, revealing something sharper, something colder.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with things that don’t involve you,” he said softly, but there was no warmth in his tone.

My stomach twisted, and I took a step back, clutching the handkerchief tighter. “What does that mean? Adrian, whose blood is this?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he set his coffee down on the nightstand, his movements deliberate. When he turned back to me, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those intense, piercing eyes—held a warning.

“It means,” he said, his voice low and measured, “that you’re safer not knowing.”

My heart pounded in my chest, fear and frustration warring inside me. “That’s not good enough,” I said, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “I deserve to know what’s going on.”

Adrian closed the distance between us in two swift steps, his hand wrapping gently around my wrist. His touch was warm, but it felt like a cage, trapping me in place.

“You deserve a lot of things, Leah,” he murmured, his tone soft but laced with steel. “But trust me when I tell you, this isn’t one of them.”

I stared up at him, my breath hitching as the weight of his words sank in. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something that told me he wasn’t just being protective—he was hiding something.

“I trusted you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“And I’m asking you to trust me now,” he said, his grip on my wrist tightening ever so slightly. “Don’t dig into things you don’t understand.”

I pulled my arm free, taking a step back. “This isn’t just about trust, Adrian. It’s about honesty. And right now, you’re not giving me that.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually tell me the truth. But then his mask slipped back into place, and he gave me that maddening smirk that made me want to scream.

“You have a talent for making things complicated,” he said, his tone light but his eyes dark.

“And you have a talent for deflecting,” I shot back.

The tension between us crackled like a live wire, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Finally, Adrian let out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Drop it, Leah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Please.”

I hesitated, my instincts screaming at me to press him further. But the look in his eyes—the mix of warning and vulnerability—made me stop.

For now.

Without another word, I turned and walked out of the room, the bloody handkerchief still clutched tightly in my hand.