Page 19 of Undisputed Chaos
Isla
Iwoke up in the morning completely filled with regret.
My head was pounding with the dull ache of too much champagne and too little sleep. I lay perfectly still for a bit, trying to piece together the fragments of last night.
Bailey’s birthday, the club, the music, the hands...
The hands.
Everything rushed back in a flood of sensation. Strong, tattooed fingers gripping my hips, green eyes that looked at me like I was something to devour, and the growl that had vibrated through his chest when I'd kissed him.
Adrian.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, shame and regret washing over me in a wave so strong it left me breathless.
I'd run. I'd actually run away from the most exhilarating connection I'd ever felt, like some ridiculous rom-com heroine too scared of her own desires to see them through.
"What is wrong with me?" I whispered to my empty apartment, the words hanging in the silent room.
I forced myself out of bed, wincing as my bare feet hit the floor. My dress from last night lay in a crumpled heap by the door, a physical reminder of my cowardice.
I put it aside on my way to the bathroom, unable to look at it without remembering how Adrian's hands had pushed it up my thighs, how I'd arched into his touch like I was made for it.
The girl in the mirror looked wrecked—hair messy from sleep, lips still phantom swollen from kisses. It ended too soon.
I touched my mouth, half-expecting to find some physical evidence of Adrian there, some mark that would prove it hadn't been a dream.
There was nothing. Just me, looking lost in my own bathroom.
I went through the motions of my morning routine, brushing my teeth, washing my face, applying the serums and creams I always featured in my skincare videos.
But my mind was elsewhere, replaying every second of last night in excruciating detail.
He'd appeared behind me as if stalking prey, his voice low and warm against my ear.
I looked up to find him watching me with intense green eyes, and butterflies had flown through me when he'd said my name. The moment I decided to kiss him.
The memory of that kiss made me grip the edge of the sink, heat flooding my cheeks. I'd never kissed anyone like that, desperate and hungry, like I was trying to climb inside him.
Yet he'd matched me, contained me, consumed me with a control that promised so much more beneath the surface. His fingers around my neck, on my waist, sliding up my thigh…
And then I left him standing there, probably confused and annoyed. A man like that, with his looks and fame, wouldn't lack for company. He'd probably moved on to someone who wasn't afraid ofthe fire he offered.
The thought was a physical ache in my chest.
I padded to the kitchen, making sponsored coffee I didn't really want, staring out the window at the street outside.
Saturday morning, the city waking up slowly, people going about their lives without the weight of missed opportunities pressing on their chests.
My phone sat on the counter, untouched since I'd stumbled home last night. Bailey and Tracy would be blowing it up with messages, probably demanding details I didn't want to relive anymore.
But I couldn't bring myself to pick it up yet. I couldn't face their questions when I had no good answers for why I'd fled.
The truth was too raw, too revealing: I'd run because he'd terrified me. Not his size, strength, or tattoos that mapped stories across his skin.
No, what terrified me was how badly I'd wanted him.
How completely I'd been willing to throw away every rule I'd ever made for myself. How, for those brief moments in his arms, I'd been someone else entirely. Someone wilder, braver, and more honest than the girl who painted pretty pictures and posted videos for strangers on the internet.
