2. Brielle

Ican't help but stare at the stranger, his tattoos snaking up his muscular arms and disappearing under the sleeves of his expensive-looking shirt. It's like a compulsion, this knack I have for running toward danger, and he is the epitome of that—sexy gray eyes, his brown hair starting to turn gray with age, an air of mystery wrapping around him.

He's older than me, that much is obvious—probably closer to my father's age than my own. And everything about him screams money, from the suit he's wearing to the cologne that I can't get enough of.

"Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to clean up the mess you made?" His voice snaps me out of my trance-like state, and I immediately apologize.

"Sorry," I mumble, grabbing a handful of napkins from the nearest table. My heart pounds in my chest as I step closer to him, the intensity in his gaze sending shivers down my spine. With trembling hands, I begin to wipe the spilled drink from his chest, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his body.

The expensive fabric of his shirt is ruined, soaked in the drink I've spilled all over him. He glares at me, and my heart skips a beat. "You do realize this shirt costs more than what you make in a month, right?"

I blush, ashamed, and reach into my wallet. "I'll pay you back," I say earnestly, but he only laughs, the sound dripping with disdain.

"Really?" he asks. "Do you honestly think I need anything from you? Especially your money?"

My face heats up even more, embarrassment mingling with anger. "You don't have to be such an ass," I snap, unable to hold back any longer.

"Typical," he mutters, shaking his head. "You spill something all over me, and you're the one calling me names…what a joke."

"I apologized, and offered to pay for it. What else am I supposed to do? Kiss your shoe and beg for your forgiveness?" I demand, confused by the sudden shift in his attitude.

The mere suggestion makes my stomach churn, but before I can lash out at him, he smirks. "I'd love to see that."

"Yeah, not today." My nose wrinkles. "I have a bit more self respect than that."

"Do you? I wouldn't have been able to guess that."

He is absolutely unbelievable. I never should have felt bad for him, but then again, what did I expect? Hot guys like him are always jerks. "You know, if you hadn't been so close to me, I wouldn't have bumped into you in the first place," I retort, trying to regain some of my dignity.

"Ah, yes," he replies sarcastically. "Blame the victim. Classic."

"Ugh, I'm so over this," I mutter, shaking my head. I turn to walk away, desperate to remove myself from his infuriating presence.

But just as I take a step, he grabs my arm, his grip firm. "I'm not done with you yet," he says, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Let me go!" I protest, hitting his arm in an attempt to free myself. But my efforts are futile; he only tightens his hold and begins dragging me through the airport. Panic rises in my chest as I realize that nobody is coming to my aid. "Why isn't anyone helping me?" I demand, my voice shaking.

"Simple," he answers, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. "My family owns this airport."

The revelation sends a shiver down my spine. So he's that kind of rich? I start to worry about what he's capable of doing. He pulls me into a nearby bathroom, locking the door behind us. The small space suddenly feels suffocating, the air thick with tension.

"Listen," I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. "Whatever you're planning, it won't work. You've got the wrong idea about me."

"Is that so?" His gaze is predatory, making me feel like helpless prey caught in his snare. But I refuse to let him see how much he affects me. I won't give him the satisfaction.

"Absolutely," I reply, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart. "Now, are you going to let me go, or do I have to make a scene?"

Instead of letting me go, the stranger starts to unbutton his shirt.

My eyes go wide as I shield them with my hand. "What are you doing?"

"Relax." He rolls his eyes, continuing to undress. "What, are you a child? It's not like it's the first time you've seen a naked chest."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I want to see yours," I snap, though I can't deny the heat rising in my cheeks at the sight of his toned body revealed before me.

He snorts, dropping his shirt on the floor. "Be real. There's not a woman in this world who could look at me and not want me."

"Congratulations," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes. "You've just found one."

Before I can react, he grabs my waist and lifts me onto the sink, making me gasp in surprise. I feel my heart race as he leans in close, his gray eyes boring into mine. "I think you're lying," he whispers, the scent of his cologne intoxicating.

His proximity is overwhelming, making my head spin and my thoughts scatter. I try to focus, to remember why I should push him away, but all I can think about is the heat of his body against mine and the way his fingers dig into my skin, anchoring me to him.

My heart races as he leans in close, his lips mere inches from mine. I can't help but close my eyes and part my lips, the anticipation of his kiss consuming me. But instead of feeling his lips against mine, I hear his voice, low and teasing.

"Open your eyes."

I do as he says, finding a huge smirk on his face. The realization that he's playing with me washes over me, making my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Grab a paper towel from behind you," he commands.

"Is there anything else you need?" I ask, my voice trembling as I hand him the paper towel.

"Your confession," he replies, his gray eyes locking onto mine.

"Confession? I haven't done anything," I protest, trying to control the waver in my voice.

"Come on, it's obvious you have a thing for me. No need to pretend otherwise."

"Are you out of your mind?" I snap, jumping off the counter. My legs feel shaky beneath me, and I try not to think about how I almost kissed a total stranger in the bathroom of an airport. This couldn't have been what Callie meant when she told me to find a hot guy and have sex with him.

Or maybe, knowing her, she'd be all for it.

"Maybe I am," he says, taking a step closer, causing me to involuntarily take a step back. "But you can't deny the chemistry between us."

"Chemistry? You're delusional," I retort, my back hitting the cold tiles of the bathroom wall. But even as I say the words, the heat of his body so close to mine is sending shivers down my spine, betraying my true feelings.

"Am I?" His voice is a whisper now, his lips hovering just above my ear, and I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

"Enough," I say, my voice trembling with frustration. "I don't want to play this game anymore."

The stranger raises an eyebrow, studying me for a moment before nodding. "Fine," he relents. "Just wipe the mess off my chest and you can go." His tone is almost casual, as if this were a normal request.

"Jerk," I mutter under my breath, but I know it's the only way he'll let me leave. I grab some paper towels and hesitantly step closer, feeling my pulse quicken as I reach out to touch his muscular chest. The heat of his skin against my fingers makes me hot, and I struggle to maintain my composure as I wipe away the sticky residue.

"Happy now?" I snap once I'm finished.

He smirks, grabbing my wrist and pressing me up against the wall with his body. "I have to go," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks, making delicious goosebumps rise along my skin. "Do everyone a favor and refrain from bumping into anyone else. Shouldn't be too hard for you, I wouldn't think."

Before I can respond, he's pulling away and disappearing through the bathroom door. Gasping for air, I take a moment to process what just happened. My cheeks burn with humiliation, and I can't help but berate myself for letting him get under my skin.

As I gather my things to leave, I notice his shirt crumpled on the counter. He must have left it behind in his haste to exit. Clutching it in my hand, I race out of the bathroom, hoping to catch up with him and return it.

I don't know why I'm so eager to give it back, considering I was fighting to put as much space between us as possible just a few moments ago. Maybe a part of me wants to catch one more glimpse, one more touch of his hands, before he's gone.

How often is it that a rich, sexy silver fox corners a girl in the bathroom and demands her confession? I'd be a liar if I said my panties weren't soaking. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine he's still in front of me, willing to do whatever it takes to make me call out his name.

But when I step into the busy airport terminal, he's already gone, swallowed up by the crowd like a phantom.

"Damn it," I whisper, clutching his shirt to my chest. The lingering scent of his cologne fills my senses, a haunting reminder of the dangerous temptation I just encountered. It's clear that this stranger has awakened something within me.