Reluctant Desires

Chapter10

Chapter 10

Dave’s POV

The thud of the door slamming in my face echoed through the empty hallway, a sharp, resounding declaration that she thought she could shut me out.

I exhaled slowly, fingers flexing in my pockets, my jaw ticking as I stared at the barrier between us.

She really thought this was over. A low, humorless chuckle slipped from my lips.

How f*****g naïve.

She had given herself to me—completely.

The way she had gasped my name, the way she had trembled when I touched her, the way she clung to me, nails digging into my skin as if she never wanted to let go.

And yet, she ran. Like a cornered rabbit, darting into the shadows, thinking the predator had lost interest. But I never lost interest, not when something belonged to me.

And she did.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not.

I turned away from the door, my smirk curling with something dark, something possessive.

She’ll come back.

They always do.

But as I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button with more force than necessary, something twisted in my chest.

Something new.

Something I didn’t f*****g like.

This wasn’t just about possession.

It wasn’t just about wanting her body again, about chasing the high of last night’s pleasure.

No.

This was different.

She had burrowed into me, under my skin, into the darkest parts of me that I didn’t let anyone reach.

And that?

That pissed me the hell off.

Because Fiona wasn’t like the others.

She was fire and fragility all in one breath.

And for the first time, I didn’t just want someone.

I needed her.

The doors slid open, and I stepped into the crisp morning air, inhaling deeply, trying to shove down the unfamiliar weight pressing against my ribs.

Let her run.

Let her think she was free of me.

I had patience.

And when the time came, when she finally understood that fighting me was futile…

She’d come willingly.

Or I’d make sure of it.

Fiona's POV

I pressed my forehead against the door, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

I had slammed it. Shut him out.

So why did I still feel him?

His presence clung to me like an intoxicating scent, wrapping around me, sinking into my skin, refusing to let go.

No. This had to end.

I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing air into my lungs, willing my heart to settle.

He’s gone. It’s over.

But the lie didn’t sit right, not when my entire body still ached from him.

With a sharp exhale, I pushed away from the door, storming straight into the bathroom. I twisted the knob, letting the coldest water pour down in sharp, punishing streams.

It didn’t help.

The moment my eyes fluttered shut, last night crashed over me like a tidal wave.

The way his hands had gripped my waist, the heat of his breath against my skin, the deep, primal groan he had let out when he—

Stop.

I pressed my palms against the tile, forcing the memories back, locking them away.

I wasn’t that girl. I didn’t do reckless, I didn’t do dangerous, and I sure as hell didn’t do him.

Not again.

By the time I stepped out, towel wrapped tightly around me, I had made my decision.

Distraction.

I needed work. Something to throw myself into. Something that had nothing to do with him.

I grabbed my laptop, settled onto the couch, and forced my focus onto Adorne Crochet. There were orders to fulfill, new designs to sketch, materials to source.

I needed normalcy.

I needed control.

And most of all, I needed to forget Dave.

Because if I let myself think about him for even a second longer…

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from wanting more.

I was fine, I was moving on, at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I buried myself in work, let the hum of my laptop and the steady rhythm of my fingers against the keyboard drown out everything else. But no matter how many emails I answered or designs I sketched, the memories still lurked in the corners of my mind, waiting for a moment of weakness to strike.

Then my phone lit up.

Unknown number.

I froze.

A trickle of unease slid down my spine, my pulse thrumming in my ears. It could have been anyone—a client, a courier, even a wrong number. But something in my gut whispered otherwise.

Slowly, I reached for it, my fingers tightening around the device.

I answered.

And that’s when I heard him.

A smooth, dark voice, laced with amusement. A voice I wasn’t ready to hear.

“You really thought you could just shut the door on me and that would be the end of it?”

My breath hitched.

Dave.

I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles turning white. “What the hell—how did you even get my number?”

A low chuckle. The kind that sent a slow, unwelcome heat curling in my stomach. “I have my ways.”

Of course, he did.

I forced air into my lungs, pushing back the chaos in my head. “Whatever this is, it’s done, Dave.”

Silence.

Then, far too casual, “If you say so.”

A sharp edge of frustration flared in me. “I do say so.”

He hummed, like he was barely entertained, like he was indulging me.

“Alright, Fiona.”

My stomach twisted.

It was the way he said it—so effortlessly, like he was agreeing just to amuse himself. Like he didn’t believe a damn word coming out of my mouth.

Like he was just waiting.

I sucked in a shaky breath, forcing myself to move. “Goodbye, Dave.”

And I hung up.

The moment the call ended, I tossed the phone onto the couch as if it had burned me, running a shaky hand through my hair.

My heart was still racing, my skin still buzzing with something I refused to name.

This had to end.

But deep down, in the quiet part of my mind I didn’t want to acknowledge, I had the sickening feeling Dave was right.

This was far from over.

A few hours later, the front door swung open without warning, and in walked Amy, radiating smugness like she had just won the lottery.

I groaned inwardly.

I wasn’t going to get a moment’s peace until she had wrung every last detail out of me.

She plopped onto the couch beside me, folding her legs beneath her as she shot me that sly, knowing smile, I tried to ignore it.

Didn’t work.

Amy was relentless. She’d shove her hand down my throat if it meant pulling the truth straight from my gut.

With a sigh of resignation, I closed my laptop and set it aside.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Get comfortable.”

She grinned victoriously. “Oh, I am comfortable, babe. Now spill.”

And I did.

Every detail.

I told her about last night—how the air had practically crackled between us, how Dave had devoured me like I was something he had claimed. How he had touched me, kissed me, made me feel things I had never felt before.

Amy’s eyes widened in shock before a wicked smirk curled her lips. “Wait. Wait. You mean to tell me that Mr. Sinister and Brooding just plowed right through your virginity like a wrecking ball?”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Oh my God, Amy.”

She cackled. “No, seriously! That man looks like he has zero concept of going easy on anyone.”

I peeked at her between my fingers. “He didn’t go easy on me.”

Amy let out another scandalized laugh before clutching her chest dramatically. “Damn. Your cobwebs didn’t just get dusted, they got demolished.”

That was it. I lost it.

Laughter bubbled out of me, and before I knew it, we were both wheezing on the couch, clutching our stomachs.

Then, just as suddenly, Amy’s amusement faded. Her expression turned serious.

“Fi…” she started carefully, her voice softer now. “Do you even want this?”

I blinked. “Want what?”

“Whatever the hell it is that Dave is offering.” She leaned forward, searching my face. “Because, babe, he doesn’t seem like the kind of man who comes with a simple love story. He looks like baggage. A whole damn cargo ship of baggage. And if you get caught up in that, I just want to know—are you ready for it?”

I swallowed, glancing away.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But… I do know that I’m drawn to him.” My fingers twisted together in my lap. “I can’t deny that.”

Amy sighed, giving me a look that was equal parts concern and exasperation. “That’s ho

w trouble starts, babe.”

And deep down, I knew she was right.

But the problem was—I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stop it.