𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

Switch It Up

I wake up disoriented, the weight of a larger frame pressing against me. Heat radiates from him, his scent—clean yet musky—saturating the darkness. Strong arms are locked around my waist, hands splayed possessively against my stomach. His knees rest snugly in the crook of mine, entwining us in an intimate, almost unbreakable hold. Every inch of his body molds against mine, firm and unyielding.

“Wilde?” I murmur, my voice hoarse, shaky. My hands move instinctively, brushing against his, futilely testing the grip that tightens in response.

“Who’s Wilde?” His husky voice cuts through the quiet, his breath ghosting against my ear. The warmth of it sends an uninvited shiver down my spine, the air between us charged.

Panic flickers in my chest. Should I keep pretending I don’t know Walker? Or should I face the fact that he’s already figured it out?

Before I can decide, he moves. Effortlessly, he flips me onto my back, his strength unsettling and undeniable. Now I’m facing him, his weight anchoring me beneath him. My pulse quickens as my eyes adjust to the dim light, finally meeting his gaze—dark, unreadable, and far too close.

“Why am I being locked up? This is illegal,” I stammer, hating the pathetic waver in my voice. No, not like this. I need to flip the script. If I act like I’m in control, I can be in control.

“Who’s Wilde?” he asks again, his voice lower, rougher, his gaze boring into mine with unsettling intensity.

Ignoring his question, I raise a hand, letting my fingertips graze the sharp line of his jaw. His breath hitches, his surprise palpable. My fingers trail upward, brushing the curve of his cheekbone, then down the slope of his nose.

The faint vulnerability in his expression sends a flicker of triumph through me. So easy. Does he even have any self-respect?

I let my gaze drift around the room. The fortified walls loom, cold and unyielding, reminding me I’m still trapped. Now would be an excellent time for Layza to appear out of nowhere and flaunt his incredible spirit skills. Is that too much to ask?

Walker’s hand wraps around mine, still resting against his face, his touch firm yet almost cautious.

“Are you locking me up because you fell for me at first sight?” I quip, teasing him with a sly smile.

To my shock, he nods, his expression unflinching. Uhm, what? Why is no one sticking to the script these days?

With mock seriousness, I pat his head. “Son, don’t waste your time on irrelevant things like love. Go out and make money instead.”

His lips twitch, but the intensity in his gaze doesn’t waver. “Who’s Wilde?”

Ah, he’s not going to let this go, is he?

“Wilde?” I say, my eyes glinting with mischief. “He’s my cat.”

His brow lifts slightly, skeptical.

“You should let me go. He’s probably waiting for me at home,” I add, my tone deliberately nonchalant.

Without a word, Walker sits up, pulling me with him in one swift motion. I land against him, my legs draped over his lap, his hands firmly gripping my waist. The shift in position leaves little space between us, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. His hold is possessive, his presence overwhelming.

“You have no home,” he says, his voice low and final, the weight of his words settling heavily between us. “You wouldn’t be wandering around if you did.”

I’m officially done with this man and his relentless knack for embarrassing me.

“How did you know who I am?” I ask, finally surrendering to the fact that he’s somehow figured out my identity. Shifting slightly, I try to find a comfortable spot on his lap. If I’m stuck here, I might as well make up for all my single years by appreciating this human embodiment of eye candy.

When I wiggle, his body tenses, a sharp gulp escaping his throat. He doesn’t say a word, but his grip on my waist tightens, his breath hitching as I unintentionally press against him. The heat between us is palpable, and I can’t help but smirk inwardly.

“When you were healing me,” he begins, his voice low, each word deliberate, “my body… recognized you.”

Recognized me? That’s his explanation? Still, at least he’s not as cryptic as Layza, who calls withholding basic information ‘repaying a favor.’

“Why did you get sick?” I ask, trying to probe further. He meets my gaze, his expression unreadable, as if deciding whether I deserve an answer.

“My cat left,” he says simply.

I blink, confused. “And?”

His brows knit together, a hint of frustration flickering in his eyes, as though it’s my fault for not connecting the dots in his sparse explanation. Still, his tone softens, patient, like he’s addressing a particularly slow child. “You left.”

“I know,” I groan, throwing my hands in the air, exasperated. “What does my disappearance have to do with your sickness?”

When he doesn’t answer, I push against him to get off. But before I can, he pulls me back sharply, the sudden movement causing my chest to collide painfully against his. Tears sting my eyes from the impact, and I bite back a wince.

His eyes widen, genuine concern flickering across his face as they drop—unintentionally, I hope—to my chest. He looks torn between guilt and worry.

“Hey!” I slap my hands over his eyes, mortified. “Stop staring, pervert!”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, his voice awkward. He pauses, clearly unsure what to do. Then, carefully weighing his words, he asks, “Should I… rub it? It might help.”

For a moment, I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or bury my face in the ground. My cheeks burn, the heat rising so fast I’m sure I look like a tomato. This man will be the death of me.
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A/N: Guys what do you say, should we make him rub it in the next chapter? Stay safe chicas~