Addicted (M)

Chapter 12: Sparks In The Dark

Avery had never been one to surrender easily to impulses, to those things that could burn and consume her. But when it came to Jadin, she was quickly learning that control was a fragile illusion. The more she dug into his mind, the more his darkness seeped into her own.

Her sessions with him were like a slow, insidious pull—gripping her, making her lose herself in the heat of his gaze. It was no longer just about the case. It was about him, and she couldn't stop herself from wanting to understand more, from needing to get closer. But each day felt like a war, her rational mind fighting against the fierce tide of attraction.

That afternoon, the air in her office felt heavy, oppressive. The sound of the city outside seemed distant, muffled as if the world itself was holding its breath. She knew Jadin was on the other side of the thick, steel door, waiting for their session to begin. His unpredictability had become an intoxicating dance, and today, she wondered what would happen if she allowed herself to stop fighting the pull.

When she opened the door, there he was—sitting in his usual chair, the shadows of the room playing over his sharp features. He stood up the moment she entered, his eyes dark with something unreadable. He said nothing, his presence overwhelming in the small space between them.

Avery hesitated for only a second before crossing the room. She had never been one to let her guard down, but with Jadin, the line between patient and something more was becoming harder to see.

"You've been quiet today," she said, leaning against the desk, arms crossed. The professional tone, the distance she tried to create—it felt like a lie between them now.

His lips curled slightly, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. "I'm always quiet, Dr. Weaver." His voice was low, smooth—a thing that could slide under your skin without you even realizing it.

Her pulse quickened, and she cursed herself for the reaction. She had to keep this professional.

"You're distracting," she managed to say, her voice slightly shaky despite her best efforts to hold it steady. "What is it you want, Jadin?"

He took a step closer, and Avery's breath caught in her throat. He didn't need to speak—his presence alone said everything. The way his eyes locked onto hers, the heat emanating from him, was enough to send a jolt of something raw and dangerous through her.

"I think you know," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin as he stood directly in front of her.

Before she could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the side of her neck. The touch was so unexpected, so electric, that it knocked the air out of her lungs. Avery's eyes fluttered closed, the smallest gasp escaping her lips.

"Jadin..." she whispered, her body betraying her.

"You've been pushing me away," he said, his voice almost a growl. "But I can feel it. You're close to letting go. Letting me in."

Avery could barely think. She was fighting every instinct that told her to step back, to keep control. But she knew, deep down, there was no escaping this. She wanted him. She needed him. And it terrified her.

His hand moved, sliding down her arm until it rested on her waist, pulling her toward him. The heat of his body, the raw tension between them, was all-consuming. She tried to take a step back, but he wasn't having it.

With a sudden, forceful movement, he pushed her against the desk. She gasped, the cool surface of the desk cold against her back, the shock of it jolting through her. Jadin's eyes darkened, his lips dangerously close to hers.

"I can see it in your eyes," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin. "You've wanted this, haven't you, Dr. Weaver?"

Avery couldn't speak, her mind spinning in a million directions. She nodded slightly, the admission a silent confession between them.

Before she could process what was happening, his lips were on hers—hard, desperate. Avery's hands found their way to his chest, feeling the solid strength of him beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. The kiss was possessive, urgent, and she couldn't stop herself from responding. She kissed him back with a hunger she didn't fully understand, pulling him closer, needing him more than she'd ever needed anything.

His hands slid down to her hips, pushing her body against his, his desire as evident as her own. He tugged at the hem of her shirt, the fabric pulling up as he exposed the skin beneath, and she let him. She let him take what he wanted, the boundaries between them blurring into something dangerous, something raw.

"I know what you want," he whispered against her lips, his hands caressing the curves of her body. "You want to break free. Let go."

She could barely breathe, the air thick with desire. "Jadin..." She whispered his name, a plea, a surrender.

"Say it," he demanded. "Say you want me."

The words left her before she could stop them. "I want you."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, his fingers deftly undoing the button of her pants. "Good," he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because you don't get to walk away from this. Not now."