Page 18 of Undisputed Chaos
Then the camera focused on two women joining them. Both smaller and beautiful, both looking up at the men with such open adoration.
The men's faces transformed as they looked at the women, all traces of hardness melting away. They looked so tender; it felt almost intrusive to watch.
I clicked on one more video, a collection of fight highlights.
He moved like liquid death, each punch something forceful that made my breath hitch.
Adrian's face was pure predator, eyes bright with a ferocity that made my core clench with want.
The careful control he'd shown with me at the club was nothing compared to this. This was what he was truly capable of.
He won, arms raised, that feral grin splitting his face as the crowd roared. His chest heaved with exertion, sweat making his tattoos gleam under the arena lights.
He looked like a god of war, beautiful and terrible and completely untamed.
I pressed my thighs together, heat flooding through me as I imagined those same hands, hands that could knock a man unconscious, holding me down, gripping my wrists, wrapping around my throat with just enough pressure to make me gasp his name.
With Noah, I'd always felt like I was performing desire rather than truly feeling it. Going through the motions because that's what couples did, not because every cell in my body was screaming for his touch.
But watching Adrian fight, seeing that wild gleam in his eyes, I wanted to know what it would feel like if he let go of that control.
If he held me like he meant to own me, to mark me, to make me his in ways that would leave bruises I'd cherish.
The video ended, and I set down my phone with shaking hands, suddenly aware that I was standing in my bathroom in just my underwear, falling down an internet rabbit hole at three in the morning, while aching for a man I'd run from.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I had everything I ever fantasized about right there in my arms. A man who looked at me like I was the only woman in the world, who'd held me like I was his, who'd kissed me like he wanted to devour me whole.
And I'd run.
The regret hit me with full force, stealing my breath. I gripped the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection with growing horror.
I'd found him, my perfect match, the one person who'd made every nerve in my body sing with want, and I'd run away.
I crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin, but sleep remained elusive. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him and the intensity in his gaze, the careful strength in his hands, the way he'd growled when I'd kissed him.
I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the heat pooling down there.
What would have happened if I hadn't run? If I'd given him my number, my last name, a way to find me?
Would he be here with me now, those massive hands mapping every curve while he showed me exactly how rough he could be?
Noah was gentle, almost boring, like he was afraid of wanting me too much.
Even when I'd tried to encourage him to be rougher, to take what he wanted, something had always held him back. Like he was performing the role of lover rather than actually being consumed by need for me.
He always made me wonder if something was wrong with me. If I were broken somehow because we never felt that desperate, all-consuming need for each other.
But tonight, Adrian had awakened something in me that felt like coming alive for the first time.
The strange, familiar hurt followed me, but this time mixed in with heated questions about Adrian as I finally drifted off to sleep.
In my dreams, Adrian found me again and again.
But this time, when I tried to run, he caught me. Pinned me against the wall with his body, his hand around my throat, his voice a dark growl against my ear: “Found you, angel.”
CHAPTER THREE
