"You look surprised," he remarked, tilting his head as if he were examining her reaction like a scientist studying an experiment.
"Did you really think you could put me behind bars? I thought you were smarter than that, Gwen."
Her fists clenched at his condescension, fury flickering through her fear.
"Stay away from me," she spat, her voice defiant despite the tremor in it.
Ross only chuckled, a low, mocking sound that sent chills down her spine.
"Oh, Gwen," he said softly, his tone almost pitying. "You don't understand, do you? There's no running from this. No escaping me."
He leaned in closer, his face just inches from hers, his breath warm against her skin.
"I warned you to stay out of my business. But you didn't listen. And now, here we are."
Gwen's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything—anything—she could use as a weapon.
Her mind worked frantically, trying to formulate a plan, but Ross's presence was suffocating, making it nearly impossible to think clearly.
"Fight all you want," Ross continued, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Scream, kick, claw—it won't make a difference. I say again. You're mine now."
Gwen's body tensed, her muscles coiled with both fear and defiance.
She wasn't ready to give up, not yet. Even if he seemed unstoppable, she wasn't going to let him win without a fight.
"You think you're untouchable," she said, her voice sharper now, fueled by adrenaline. "But everyone has a weakness."
Ross smiled, an infuriatingly calm expression. "Maybe. But good luck finding mine before you break, Gwen."
Her heart pounded as he took another step closer, looming over her. His body now plastered tightly on her own.
She knew the odds were stacked against her, but she refused to let him see her fear—not entirely. This wasn't over yet, not if she could help it.
"Mmm…" Gwen found herself being kissed again, just as she had anticipated. But this time, something in her shifted.
She didn't push him away. She didn't fight him immediately. Instead, she allowed the kiss to linger, even leaning into it ever so slightly.
Her lips moved with his in hesitant response, mirroring the rhythm he set.
It was a deliberate choice, calculated and careful. If brute strength hadn't worked, she needed another approach.
Still, every moment of that kiss made her feel like she was losing something—a piece of herself slipping away under his touch.
And yet, her body betrayed her completely.
Her nipples tightened beneath her oversized sweater, pebbling painfully against the fabric, and the heat between her thighs only grew, dampening her underwear in a way that made her stomach twist with shame.
She couldn't control it, no matter how much her mind screamed against it.
Ross's scent filled the space around her, overpowering her senses. It was intoxicating—rich, musky, and maddeningly irresistible.
He smelled like something primal, something designed to make her defenses crumble.
His breath was warm against her lips, and his technique… it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.
His lips teased hers with a skill and confidence that felt almost supernatural.
"Ahhh…" The soft moan slipped from her lips before she could stop it. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, but she refused to let it distract her.
If she couldn't outmatch him physically, she'd have to use her wits.
Her hands moved deliberately, roaming up to Ross's head as if she were surrendering to the moment. Her fingers slid through his hair, her touch light, almost tender.
She tilted her head, deepening the kiss as if she were giving in completely.
But it was all a lie.
Just when he seemed to let his guard down, she struck.
"Puchi!"
Her fingers jabbed toward his eyes with all the force she could muster, nails aimed for the soft, vulnerable flesh.
It was a move born of desperation, her last-ditch effort to catch him off guard and break free.
But just like before, her plan failed.
Ross's eyelids snapped shut with an unnatural speed, blocking her strike as if he had anticipated it.
Worse, his eyelids were impenetrable, as strong as steel. Her nails skidded harmlessly against them, the impact sending a sharp pain up her fingers.
"What the…?" she whispered, staring at him in disbelief.
Ross opened his eyes slowly, almost mockingly, and smiled.
"Nice try," he said, his voice calm and steady, as though her attempt had been nothing more than a playful gesture.
Before she could process what had happened, he moved.
"Whoosh!"
In one fluid motion, Ross grabbed her by the waist and flung her across the room.
Gwen's body hit the oversized bed with a thud, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs.
She gasped, clutching at the sheets as she tried to steady herself.
Dazed but not defeated, Gwen pushed herself up, her chest heaving as she fought to regain her composure.
Her baggy jeans and sweater were rumpled from the scuffle, but she hardly noticed.
She had worn them deliberately, trying to appear as ordinary as possible—most definitely around Asher after what he did last week—but none of that mattered now.
Her innocent, angelic face was framed by her disheveled hair, and despite the fear etched into her features, her eyes burned with determination.
She wasn't going to break. Not yet.
Ross stood at the other side of the room, watching her with an expression of amusement. His dark eyes glinted in the dim light, and his lips curled into a faint smile.
"You're impressive, Gwen," he said, his voice low and smooth. "Most people would've given up by now. But you… you've got fight in you. I like that."
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she glared at him. "Stay away from me," she spat, her voice trembling but defiant.
Ross chuckled, a low, mocking sound that filled the room. "Stay away? After everything? Oh, Gwen… you should've thought about that before you stuck your nose where it didn't belong."
He took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator savoring the hunt.
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Gwen instinctively backed away, her legs hitting the edge of the bed.
She glanced around the room, her mind racing as she searched for anything she could use as a weapon.
But the space was barren, leaving her with nothing but her bare hands and wits.
"Fight all you want," Ross continued, his tone almost conversational. "Run, scream, claw—none of it will make a difference. This is a checkmate for you."
"Over my dead body," Gwen shot back, her voice sharper now, fueled by adrenaline.
Ross smirked, unfazed by her defiance. "If that's what it takes," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.
"But I'd rather keep you alive. You're much more fun this way."