Betrayed By Husband, Stolen By Brother In Law

Chapter 33 - A Guest

Melanie stood in front of the mirror, grimacing at the marks scattered across her skin. Damn it. She had never realized just how easily she bruised. The fading smudges on her arms from that old man, Grif, had taken their time to disappear, and now Spencer had done his best to leave his own imprint on her.

Her fingers ghosted over the faint fingerprints on her forearms, reminders of his unrelenting grip. But it was the darkening mark on her neck that made her stomach twist. She leaned in, tilting her head slightly to examine it under the light, and winced. He really had tried to kill her.

A shudder ran down her spine. Another few seconds and she might have blacked out. It was in that moment, she knew she was totally alone in this place. No one would step forward to help her unless they had something to gain.

Just how naive had she been three years ago? No. Not naive. She'd never been too street smart thanks to her overprotective grandparents but she had to have been blind to have not known Spencer's true colours.

Shaking her head, she forced a slow breath into her lungs and glanced at her reflection once more. Maybe she should change. Tonight's dress wasn't her style to begin with, and the way it draped over her shoulders only made the bruises more noticeable. She almost wished she could escape the celebration entirely.

Most people would have wanted revenge after what had happened. But her? She just wanted to move forward. To put it all behind her and never have to think about Spencer or the past again. But instead, she had signed a deal with the devil himself. Classic example of jumping from the fry pan into the fire.

The sudden click of the door handle turning made her spin around, her heart leaping into her throat. Her hands instinctively flew to the back of her dress, clutching the fabric together. That door had been locked. No one should have been able to come in.

Her pulse pounded. Spencer?

No. Sir Collins had insisted she stay in this room and had promised that Spencer wouldn't come anywhere near her. That they would all talk after the celebration. But still... she woulnd not trust anyone...

The tension in her body eased—only slightly—when Adam stepped inside, already dressed for the celebration.

Melanie blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

She had never seen him in a suit before. He always wore those beaten-up leather jackets and messed up hair but tonight, he looked... polished. Well, almost. The lip ring remained, a stubborn hint of metal against his sharp features, a reminder that no matter how well he cleaned up, he was still rebellious and untamed inviting the looker to take a ride with him on the wild side.

He raised an eyebrow, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it with a smirk on his lips," So, what do you think, Melon? I clean up well, don't I?"

His voice snapped her back to the present, and heat rushed to her cheeks as realization dawned—she had been checking him out. And she'd been caught doing that!

She quickly shook her head, schooled her expression, and turned back toward the mirror. In her haste, she forgot she was still clutching the parted fabric of her dress, leaving the expanse of her back exposed. The cool air kissed her skin, but before she could fix her mistake, Adam's voice cut through. "Don't move."

She froze as their eyes met in the mirror for a moment, before Adam slowly and deliberately ran his gaze over her back. She could feel the goosebumps on her skin from his gaze alone.

To compose herself and break the tension, she hurriedly questioned," What are you doing here? The door was locked."

"As if a locked door could keep me away, " he murmured, pushing off the door slowly as he walked towards her.

His steps were slow, deliberate, his movements almost predatory as he prowled toward her. Melanie stiffened, her fingers gripping the fabric at her sides. If he came to her, she would definitely reject him...

And then—just when she thought he was about to reach her—he veered off course, sinking onto the edge of the bed instead. A lazy smirk played at his lips as he raised a single finger, curling it in a beckoning motion. "Why don't I do it up for you?"

His gaze held hers in the mirror, challenge simmering beneath the playful glint in his eyes. He knew she would reject him if he went to her, instead he was asking her to come to him. And in his gaze, she could see the challenge, daring her to say no to him.

Melanie exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. She could refuse. She should refuse. But instead, she took a step toward him.

Then another.

And another.

Until she stood before him, her back turned.

She told herself it was just practical. That it didn't mean anything.

But then—she felt it.

His hands, settled on the sides of her waist. His thumb brushing against her bare skin. It was a barely-there touch at first, almost testing, before he pulled her backward in one smooth motion, positioning her between his legs.

Melanie sucked in a sharp breath, her spine stiffening as she felt the undeniable heat of his body against her. Dam* it! This man had a habit of pulling her to him! First when she was on the motorcycle and now...

He wasn't pressing too close—just enough for her to be aware of him, of the way his legs framed hers so that she could see his knees on either side of her.

Her pulse drummed wildly. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier. She was sure she could feel ahis breath on her lower back... and then she felt his fingers ghosting over her skin before they settled on the tab of the zipper. He dragged it upward slowly, and Melanie could feel her breathing start to be affected.

Halfway up, he paused.

Before she could ask why, she felt it—the press of lips against the inside of her wrist and then a slight wetness as his tongue tasted her skin. A spark shot through her body, her entire body going rigid.

She jerked instinctively, pulling her hand away, her fingers clenching at her sides as if the touch had burned her. The dress slipped from her grip, the open fabric settling back into place.

Adam chuckled, low and satisfied.

Melanie scowled. He had purposely done it. She was about to answer but her retort died on her lips when she felt the zipper as he pulled it the rest of the way up.

She was about to hurry away but his hands settled on her hips again, keeping her exactly where he wanted her as he turned her to face him.

His gaze dragged over her body, slowly and... possessively, making her stomach tighten. Then, his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.

"You know," he murmured, "if I'd known you looked this damn good in that dress, I might've bought you a burlap sack to hide our beauty."

She scoffed and would have tried to move away again when he stood up, towering over her. He moved like a cat, all languid and hurried grace.

The shift in height should've given her space, but instead, it did the opposite as she felt surrounded by his intoxicating scent. She looked up at his face, her eyes skimming over his lips all over again...