Page 13 of Ruthless Possession

William

Ignoring Noah Draven should have been easy. It wasn’t. I told myself I was fine. That I just needed space. That I wasn’t avoiding him—I was just… re-centering.

Bullshit.

Because even after two days of radio silence, I still felt him everywhere. I caught myself looking over my shoulder. Waiting. Expecting him to appear in the halls, outside my classes, in the shadows of my own damn thoughts.

But he didn’t.

And that? That was worse than anything. Because Noah Draven didn’t let things go. And the fact that he wasn’t chasing? Meant he was hunting.

I told myself I didn’t care.

That I didn’t miss him. That the weight in my chest wasn’t disappointment every time I looked at my phone and saw nothing. That the ache in my stomach wasn’t from something as pathetic as wanting his touch.

I told myself I was fine. That I was free. But then I’d wake up in the middle of the night, my body still sore, still sensitive, still marked with the memory of him. And I’d crave him like a fucking drug.

The bruises were fading, but the feeling wasn’t. The phantom of his hands on my waist, his breath against my ear, the way he controlled me so completely and made me forgot who I was.

I hated myself for it. For wanting him. For missing the way he’d drag me closer, kiss me like I was something he couldn’t live without, make me feel like I belonged to him.

And the worst part?

I knew all I had to do was reach out, and he’d be there. Waiting. Ready. But I didn't. Because if I did, I’d lose. And losing to Noah Draven meant losing everything.

I should’ve known I wouldn’t get away with this.

I should’ve known that the moment I let my guard down, he’d strike.

But I was stupid. I let myself breathe. I let myself think I had control.

So, when I unlocked my room door that night, exhaustion weighing heavy on my bones, I wasn’t expecting him. But he was there. Sitting on my couch.

Waiting.

I froze, heart lurching into my throat, my fingers still curled around the doorknob.

“Noah—”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

His voice was calm. Too calm. A sharp contrast to the tension crackling in the air like a live wire.

I swallowed hard, stepping inside, forcing my expression to stay neutral. “I’ve been busy.”

Noah tilted his head, studying me. Then he stood. Slow. Deliberate. And in two strides, he was in front of me, his body caging me against the door. My pulse jumped. I felt cornered. Trapped. And God help me, I liked it.

His gaze flickered over my face, dark and unreadable. Searching. Then, finally, he spoke. “Say it.”

I blinked. “Say what?”

His hand came up, fingers skimming my jaw, his touch just light enough to make me shudder.

“Say you don’t want me.”

I opened my mouth—

Nothing came out. Because I couldn’t. Because it would be a lie.

Noah’s smirk was slow, lethal.

“That’s what I thought.”

He leaned in, his breath warm against my skin. I shuddered. He pressed a kiss to my jaw, slow and claiming.

“You’ll always be mine.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body betraying me. I should have pushed him away. I should have told him to leave. But I didn’t, and he was right.

The moment I stopped fighting, he pounced.

His mouth crashed against mine, raw and all-consuming, his fingers tightening in my hair as he backed me toward the bed, never breaking contact, never giving me a second to think.

I should’ve resisted. I should’ve—

But fuck, I didn’t want to.

I wanted this.

I wanted him.

I wanted the way he kissed me—like I was something sacred and sinful all at once.

I let him push me down, let him crawl over me, let his hands roam and claim and mark again, because I couldn’t fight it anymore.

I didn’t want to fight it anymore.

Noah kissed down my throat, dragging his teeth across every vulnerable inch of me, murmuring against my skin. “You can run all you want, pretty boy…”

I gasped, arching into him, my nails digging into his back.

He smirked against my collarbone, pressing a bruising kiss there, then lower, then lower.

“But I’ll always catch you.”

This time? I let him.