Isabella barely registered the warmth of Ethan's body before her mind caught up with what had just happened.
What have I done?
She had kissed him back.
She had let him consume her, let herself drown in his touch, his obsession.
And now?
Now, there was no turning back.
Ethan's breath was still uneven as his fingers traced slow, possessive circles against her waist. His forehead rested against hers, as if he was trying to ground himself.
As if she was the only thing tethering him to sanity.
She needed to break this moment. She needed space.
But before she could move, his grip tightened, his voice a dark whisper against her lips.
"You don't get to run from this, Isabella."
Her pulse pounded. "Ethan—"
"You're mine." His voice was raw, dangerous.
And God help her, she wanted to believe him.
But reality crashed down like a cold wave, and she forced herself to take a step back, her body trembling from the aftershocks of his touch.
"This—" Her voice cracked. "This can't happen again."
Ethan's expression shifted—his usual mask of control slipping just enough for her to see the storm beneath.
"You're lying."
She shook her head, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "I mean it."
Something in his gaze darkened.
Isabella turned toward the door, her fingers fumbling with the lock. She needed air, needed distance.
But before she could pull it open, Ethan's palm slammed against the wood beside her head, caging her in.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
His voice was velvet and steel.
"You can run, Isabella. But you'll never escape me."
She shivered, not just from fear—but from something far more dangerous.
Desire.
Ethan leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"I will have you. Again and again. And you'll come back to me every time."
Her body betrayed her, heat pooling deep in her stomach at the sheer conviction in his tone.
She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself.
But when she opened them again—he was gone.
Leaving behind nothing but the echo of his promise.
The Breaking Point
The next few days were torture.
Ethan's presence was everywhere.
He didn't call. Didn't text.
But he was there.
A black car parked across the street when she left work.
A lingering scent of his cologne at her usual café.
A shadow in the corner of a crowded gala.
She tried to tell herself it was paranoia.
That she was imagining him in every darkened corner, every silent moment.
But deep down, she knew better.
Ethan Lancaster never waited.
He hunted.
And she was his prey.
By the third night, she snapped.
She stormed into Lancaster Enterprises, ignoring the nervous glances of his employees.
Isabella didn't need to ask where he was.
She knew.
She threw open the doors to his office, her chest heaving.
Ethan stood by the window, hands in his pockets, as if he had been waiting for her.
Her anger flared. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
He turned, slow and deliberate, his gaze unreadable.
"You came to me." His voice was infuriatingly calm.
She clenched her fists. "You're following me. Watching me. This has to stop."
He stepped forward. "I haven't laid a hand on you."
"But you want to."
The words hung heavy between them.
And then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Always."
Her breath caught.
Ethan closed the distance, his fingers barely grazing her wrist. The lightest touch, yet it sent fire through her veins.
"Tell me to leave you alone," he murmured.
She opened her mouth—
But the words wouldn't come.
Because she didn't want him to leave her alone.
She wanted him to stay.
And that terrified her more than anything.
His fingers trailed higher, barely brushing the inside of her palm.
"Say the words, Isabella," he challenged.
She knew what would happen if she didn't.
She knew what would happen if she let him in again.
But instead of pushing him away—
She grabbed his tie and pulled him down to her lips.
This time, she kissed him first.
A Dangerous Game
The moment their lips met, Ethan lost control.
One hand tangled in her hair, the other pressing her body flush against his.
Isabella gasped into the kiss as he deepened it, his hunger unmistakable.
This wasn't soft.
This was claiming.
And she let him.
When they finally broke apart, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing hard.
Ethan's voice was a whisper of warning.
"You have no idea what you've just done."
Isabella swallowed. "Then show me."
A dark chuckle escaped him, low and dangerous.
"You're playing with fire, sweetheart."
She held his gaze. "Maybe I want to burn."
Ethan's eyes darkened, his grip tightening as his lips found hers again.
And just like that—
The forbidden line was crossed.