Bound To Be Yours 🦌

Chapter 16 If This Is Wrong, Make It Twice

"NO way we're missing this!" Lily shrieked, already latching my wrist. Carter whooped, James filming, and suddenly there were hands everywhere, dragging me—and him—into the neon spill.

"Move, Sinclair," Carter barked. "Even you don't get a pass on this one."

I stumbled into the surge, laughter bubbling despite myself. And when I glanced sideways—he was right there. Smirk flashing in the strobe, hand grazing mine like it wasn't an accident.

Bodies writhed. Arms shot up. Bass shook the floor like a pulse too big for one chest.

My arms rose with the crowd. And then—his fingers slid against mine, slow, deliberate. Curling. Lacing. My breath stuttered, every sense lit sharp by alcohol and music.

I didn't dare look. But I felt him. His chest brushing my back, his breath grazing my ear, lips close enough to scorch the skin there.

"Smile like that again, Ashbourne," he murmured, words swallowed by the bass, voice low and dangerous. "And I'll take it personally."

Heat rushed traitorous through me. My lips curved helplessly. "Maybe I'm just laughing at your dance moves."

His laugh huffed warm at my ear, rough, amused. "Then keep laughing. I'll give you something worth watching."

Around us—Lily twirling like a lunatic, Carter hyping her, James filming evidence for blackmail. Their chaos spun loud.

But for me?

Tunnel vision.

Just him. Just me. And the lock of his hand around mine.

And if this was a bad decision—I'd make it twice.

✪✪✪

The party blurred at the edges—too much beat, too much neon, too much alcohol fizzing in my veins. Lily was still cackling with Carter and James in some feral shuffle routine, but the floor lurched under me.

A hand closed around mine—steady, warm, immovable. Like the room might spin, but he wouldn't.

The music still thundered below, but it felt a mile away. Adrian's hand anchored me, firm at the small of my back, steering me wordlessly into a guest room. Moonlight cut through the blinds in a single stripe, silvering the bedspread. The air was cooler, but my pulse wasn't.

"Sit," he said, not loud, not sharp—just absolute. I sank onto the mattress edge before I could think. His hand lingered at my elbow a beat, steadying me, before he crossed to the mini-fridge tucked against the wall.

A soft crack of the cap. Cold condensation kissed my palm when he pressed the bottle into my hand.

I drank greedily, water pulling me back down from the spin.

His voice came low, unhurried. "Better?"

A pause. His mouth tugged into something faint, almost satisfied, before he went on. "You know, you should be out there—making chaos, breaking rules, laughing out loud when it hits you."

His brow dipped, shadowing his eyes. "Not sitting in the corner like you've forgotten how to be alive."

My lips twitched—not quite a smile. "Fun isn't... really an option for me." 

The words slipped easier when tipsy. 

"Not until I finish what I have to. Until I—" my throat tightened "—earn the right to be normal."

Silence stretched, soft but weighted. I stared at the water in my hands, terrified of what my face might give away.

When I finally looked up, his gaze pinned me still. He wasn't smiling. Just the barest twitch at his mouth, more blade than curve.

The moonlight caught his eyes—the gentleness in them was only a veil over something darker pulling underneath.

He stepped closer. Close enough that the air between us cinched tight, near enough that my breath hitched. His presence weighed like a hand at my throat.

"You can be more," he said, voice low enough to leave marks. Eyes never leaving mine. Fingers traced my cheek, heat sparking down my jaw. "I could make you more. All you'd have to do—" his mouth almost curved, sharp, "—is ask."

Heat surged sharp in my chest, equal parts fear and pull.

I tilted my head away just enough to break his touch—as if even that little connection was too much to bear. My fingers trembled at the hem of my skirt. "Thanks... for the water."

His hand hovered, then retreated slow. He stepped back, giving me space without severing the thread strung taut between us.

Downstairs, the party roared. But in here, it was his storm, his silence.

Somewhere deep down I knew—if the world came for me, he'd burn it to ash before it touched me.

Dangerous? Maybe.

But safe is boring.

And danger flirts better.

✪✪✪

Danger flirts better... and so do comments 😉 

If Adrian didn't fry your ovaries, idk what will. 

Vote + drop your chaos in the comments so I know I'm not delulu alone. 

Stay tuned for more ~ love, Ruenie ♡