⚠️TRIGGER WARNING:
[This chapter contains scenes of violence and mature content.]
.
.
.
.
.
YN pov
I am scared. Truly, deeply scared. My legs feel like jelly, but they still manage to carry me backward as he steps forward--slow, deliberate, never breaking eye contact. I try to keep distance between us, but there's nowhere left to go. My back hits the cold tile wall of the shower, and in the next breath, he's there--right in front of me.
He pins me against the wall with one hand beside my head, not touching me yet, but close enough that I feel completely caged. His presence swallows the space, his shadow blotting out any thought of escape.
"You can't escape now," he murmurs, eyes burning into mine with something unreadable--too calm, too steady, like he's waited for this moment far too long.
I feel the chill of the tile, the heat of his breath, and the rush of panic that I can't suppress. My heart pounds in my ears. I open my mouth to speak, to beg, to scream--but before I can say anything, he leans in just enough to let his voice graze my skin.
"I haven't even started yet."
I look away, unable to bear the intensity in his eyes. Shame, fear, confusion-- everything twists inside me, a storm I can't control. I try to shrink back, to disappear into the cold tiles behind me, as if I could make myself invisible. But he doesn't allow it.
With slow, deliberate pressure, he lifts his hand and forces my chin back toward him, fingers firm beneath my jaw. "No," he says, his voice low, edged with a dangerous calm. "Look at me."
I try to resist, even slightly, but he tightens his grip--not painfully, but enough to make his control clear. The air between us feels thick, unbreathable. I have no choice but to meet his gaze, and when I do, I see something there that makes my stomach twist--a kind of possession, a hunger laced with something darker.
"You run, you hide, but you can't ignore what's already inside you,"he murmurs, his thumb brushing along my jaw, deceptively gentle. "You called to me in your sleep. Your voice... your body....." His eyes drop for a moment, then rise again, colder now.
I can't answer. I don't know what's true anymore.
He leans in closer, the heat of him pressing into my space until the wall behind me feels like ice. My breath stutters, my pulse racing in my ears.
He suddenly turns the shower on, the sudden rush of water pounding around us like thunder in the small space. The cold spray hits my skin, sharp and unforgiving, but it's nothing compared to the weight of his gaze.
"What were you dreaming of, sweetheart?" he asks, voice low and dangerous, each word dripping with control.
I don't answer. I can't. Fear and defiance war inside me, but silence is all I manage.
His lips curl into a slow, dark smile. Without warning, he spins me around--swift, firm--and delivers a sharp smack to my bare skin. The sting blossoms immediately, hot and humiliating, but it's the look in his eyes that freezes me-unyielding, demanding, owning.
"You will answer me," he growls, voice low and threatening, "or I'll make sure you won't forget who's in charge."
The water keeps crashing down, mixing with my racing heartbeat and the burning on my skin, and I realize this is only the beginning.
We were completely drenched in the shower-the cold water streaming down my soaked bathrobe, clinging to my skin, while his blue shirt, soaked through, revealed the sharp lines of his abs beneath. The contrast between us, between the heat rising inside me and the chill of the water, was almost unbearable.
Unable to handle the tension, the weight of his gaze, and the raw closeness, I blurted out before I could stop myself, "Yes... I had a wet dream about you."
The words hung heavy in the steamy air, louder than I expected, and for a moment, everything froze. His eyes darkened even further, and a slow, almost dangerous smile curved his lips like he'd been waiting for exactly that confession.
"You're braver than I thought," he murmured, stepping closer, the heat between us crackling stronger than the water.
He turned me gently so I was facing him, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my skin prickle. Leaning in close, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he inquired, "So, I did touch you in your dream? And by the way you were moaning, you seemed to enjoy it quite a lot."
I swallowed hard and replied, "No."
He didn't even flinch or acknowledge my answer. Instead, his voice dropped lower, almost teasing but edged with something sharper. "Just tell me-why did you sneak into my club that night? Tell me that, and I'll go."
The challenge hung in the air between us, heavy and undeniable, daring me to speak the truth that I'd tried so hard to bury.
"I don't know," I whispered, my voice barely steady.
Without a word, he turned the shower faucet, and the water pressure suddenly increased, pounding harder against us. The cold rush sent a shiver through me, but it wasn't just the water --his presence was overwhelming.
As the stronger spray hit me, my bathrobe slipped past my shoulders, exposing a good amount of cleavage. The vulnerability of the moment pressed down on me, mixing with the heat of his gaze that never wavered.
He watched, silent and unyielding, waiting for something maybe an answer, a reaction, anything. The tension between us thickened, electric and suffocating, as the storm of water and emotions crashed around us.
I felt vulnerable, the cold water and exposed skin making my heart pound even faster. But I forced myself to reply, voice shaky yet defiant, "I don't know what you're talking about."
His eyes darkened, unreadable and intense. "You do," he said quietly, every word dripping with certainty. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
The pressure of the water, the weight of his stare--it became too much. My breath hitched, chest tightening as panic swelled inside me. Unable to withstand it any longer, I reached out instinctively and gripped his soaked shirt, clutching it like a lifeline.
I buried my face against him, desperate to hide, to disappear, my breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. The room felt like it was closing in, and all I could think was how powerless I was beneath his unwavering gaze.
I tried to climb up on him, desperation pushing me beyond reason. My arms wrapped around his neck, legs searching for a grip, and just as I was about to settle against him, he cut through the tension with a single, low word: "Jump."
Without a second thought, I obeyed. My legs curled tightly around his waist, holding on like a koala clings to a tree clinging not just for support, but for some shred of comfort in the storm of emotions swirling inside me. His arms tightened around me, steadying and strong, but that fleeting feeling of safety shattered almost immediately.
In the blink of an eye, he slammed me back against the cold tile wall, the sharp impact knocking the breath from my lungs. We were now away from the pounding shower, the sound fading into the background, replaced by the heavy thud of our hearts. His lips hovered so close to mine I could feel the heat of his breath, mingling with the cold sting of the tiles beneath my back.
His chest pressed hard against mine, solid and unyielding, the soaked fabric of his blue shirt clinging to every contour of his body like a second skin-- wet and real making it impossible to ignore. The weight of him was overwhelming, a physical reminder of the power he held over me in that moment.
His voice was barely above a whisper but carried the full force of a command. "I want an answer. Now."
I could feel the tension crackling between us, a dangerous energy that seemed to pull me closer and push me away all at once. His eyes searched mine, demanding honesty, burning with an intensity that left me breathless.
My mind raced, trapped between fear and something darker, something I wasn't ready to face. Words stuck in my throat, and I realized this was no longer just a game or a dream. It was real, raw, and all-consuming.
And I knew that whatever I said next would change everything.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
________________________________________