The Girl in the Hoodie is Mine

Jason’s POV:

Never.

Never in a million years did I think I would ever sleep with Ella.

Not even in my wildest dreams—which, for the record, were already dangerous enough when it came to her.

Yet, here we were.

And while she had adamantly declared that we were never to speak of it again and that it "never happened", I noticed something.

She didn’t look like she regretted it.

She didn’t look guilty.

Nope.

Just embarrassed.

And that?

That meant something, right?

I smirked to myself as I walked into my room, grabbing a pair of sweatpants before flopping onto my bed.

My body was exhausted, but my mind? Wide. Awake.

I could still hear her voice in my head, that soft gasp when I kissed her, the way she arched against me, the way she moaned my name like a prayer—

I groaned, throwing an arm over my face.

Great.

Now, I’m the one suffering.

I turned to stare at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Because one thing was certain—there was no way in hell I was going to just pretend this never happened.

Oh no, wifey.

This?

This was just the beginning.

How was I supposed to forget?

How was I supposed to erase last night from my mind?

How was I supposed to look at Ella and not remember?

Not remember the way her skin burned against mine?

Not remember the way she whispered my name, breathless, desperate?

Not remember the way she clung to me, her nails dragging down my back?

Not remember the way she completely surrendered to me?

I let out a frustrated groan, running a hand down my face.

This was a disaster.

I was supposed to be playing it cool, supposed to be making her fall for me first, supposed to be the one in control.

But now?

Now, I was the one sitting here like an obsessed idiot, reliving every second of last night while she was probably in her room convincing herself it was a mistake.

I needed a distraction.

Something. Anything.

Because if I kept this up, I was going to do something very, very stupid—like march into her room, pin her against the wall, and remind her exactly why she moaned my name like that.

And the worst part?

I wouldn’t even regret it.

If not for Jake, last night wouldn’t have happened.

If not for that bastard, Ella wouldn’t have let me within a meter of her, let alone beneath her, inside her.

And yet, here we were.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the edge of the bathroom sink as the reality of the situation sank in.

Jake drugged her.

Jake planned to take advantage of her.

My wife.

Contract marriage or not, Ella was mine.

No one touched what was mine.

I could already see the smug bastard’s face in my head, already imagine how he thought he had everything planned out, how he thought he was so damn clever.

He didn’t count on me.

Didn’t count on me being there.

Didn’t count on me ruining his sick little plan.

But that was his first mistake.

And now?

Now, he was going to pay.

I’d make damn sure of it.

I clenched my fists, my jaw ticking as I replayed everything in my head. Last night wasn’t supposed to happen—at least, not like that. I wasn’t stupid. I knew Ella never would have willingly let me that close if we hadn’t both been drugged. But that wasn’t the part that had my blood boiling.

Jake.

That bastard thought he could use some cheap trick to get my wife into his bed, thought he could humiliate her, use her, blackmail her.

Over my dead body.

I might be many things—an arrogant ass, a pain in Ella’s side, an insufferable husband—but I would never drug a woman. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some slimy snake like Jake get away with it.

He thought he was untouchable.

He had no idea who he was messing with.

I pushed off the counter, running a hand through my hair. The lingering scent of Ella was still on me, and my body remembered every single thing from last night in painful, vivid detail.

Her hands gripping my shoulders.

Her soft gasps against my neck.

The way she said my name like she was made to say it.

I exhaled sharply, pushing the memories aside.

Not the time, Jason.

There was a bigger issue at hand.

Jake.

That bastard needed to learn his place.

And I was going to be the one to teach him.

Ella’s POV:

I needed coffee.

Strong, scalding, preferably something that could also burn away my memories of last night.

I sat at the kitchen island, still wearing the oversized shirt I stole from Jason’s closet—because, of course, my actual clothes had been shredded somewhere between the living room and... ugh, never mind. 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

My fingers tightened around my coffee mug as flashes of last night ambushed me against my will.

Jason’s lips on mine.

Jason’s hands on my skin.

Jason’s voice—husky, deep, breathless—whispering my name like a prayer.

I practically slammed my coffee down, my face heating.

No. Nope. Not thinking about it.

I rubbed my temples. The worst part? I wasn’t even guilty about what happened. Embarrassed? Yes. Regretful? No.

And that was a problem.

Because if I wasn’t careful, if I let myself slip even a little, Jason was going to realize something very dangerous.

That I didn’t hate him as much as I pretended to.

I was still trying to mentally reboot when Jason waltzed into the kitchen, looking annoyingly fresh for someone who had been thoroughly seduced and ruined on the living room floor just hours ago.

He smirked the second he saw me.

Oh, hell no.

"Morning, wifey," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Did you sleep well? Or were you too tired after all that exercise?"

I nearly choked on my coffee.

"Don’t start," I snapped, pointing a warning finger at him.

Jason raised his hands in mock surrender, but the devilish grin on his face remained.

I should have punched him.

But instead, my brain—traitorous as always—reminded me how those same lips that were currently smirking had been doing a lot more than smirking last night.

I gulped.

Jason’s gaze flickered to my neck, his smirk deepening.

I frowned. "What?"

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Just admiring my work."

"What the hell are you talking abou—"

And then it hit me.

I whipped around and ran to the nearest mirror.

My entire neck looked like it had been used as a canvas for Jason’s personal collection of hickeys.

"JASON!" I shrieked.

He laughed, the bastard.

"Oh, now you remember what happened?" he teased.

I launched a spoon at his head.

Unfortunately, he dodged it like a damn ninja.

I seethed. "This is all your fault!"

Jason arched a brow. "My fault? You’re the one who started stripping in my car."

"That’s because I was drugged!"

His expression darkened instantly. The amusement vanished, replaced with something deadly.

"Yeah," he muttered, voice low and dangerous. "Jake’s going to pay for that."

I blinked.

Wait... what?

Jason’s POV:

Jake made one critical mistake.

He didn’t just try to use Ella.

He involved me.

I hadn’t planned on interfering with Ella’s business. She was a shark in her own right. She could handle herself.

But Jake tried to take her choice away.

And now, he was going to regret it.

I grabbed my phone, dialing a number.

"Max," I said the second he picked up. "I need a favor."

Max groaned. "Oh, for—what did you do now?"

"Nothing," I said. "Yet."

There was a pause. Then, with too much amusement, Max asked, "Does this have anything to do with your wife?"

I smirked.

"Oh, it has everything to do with her."