Trapped by Lust

Five Years Later

Samantha let out a frustrated sigh as she stared at her flat tire. With a scowl on her face, she muttered curses under her breath, venting out the exhaustion of the long day. She glanced around, searching for the nearest repair shop, but she knew she had no idea how to change a tire.

Just then, a car slowed down and stopped in front of her. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face.

"Hey, Sam," Jonathan greeted with a smirk.

"Jo!" Samantha's mood lifted slightly as she returned his greeting.

"What happened to your car?" he asked, stepping out and walking toward her.

"Flat tire. Just my luck," she grumbled.

"I can help… but there's a condition," Jonathan teased, crossing his arms.

"Come on, Jo!" Samantha shot him an annoyed glare.

"If you're going to help, just help."

"Well, if you don't want to agree, I guess I'll just leave." Jonathan deliberately turned back toward his car, his steps slow and teasing.

Samantha exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. "Okay, fine. What do you want? What’s the condition?"

"Relax, Sam. Just dinner. So simple."

"Nope." She shook her head firmly.

"Hmm… lunch, then?"

Samantha considered for a moment before sighing in defeat. "Done. Lunch tomorrow at a café near campus. Deal?" She extended her hand.

Jonathan grinned, shaking it eagerly. "Deal."

Today has been nothing short of a disaster for Samantha. But for Jonathan? It was the best day of his life. Finally, he had a reason to spend time with the girl he had secretly adored for years.

As he worked on replacing the tire, he kept the conversation light, cracking jokes to ease Samantha’s frustration. It worked. She no longer looked as irritated as before.

"Thanks, Jo. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you," she admitted.

"That’s what friends are for, Sam," he replied with a casual shrug.

Samantha smiled. "Guess I’m lucky, then."

Jonathan checked his watch before straightening up.

"Alright, I gotta go now. See you tomorrow, Sam."

"Bye, Jo. See you at the café," she said, waving as he walked back to his car.

"I can't wait," he called out before driving away.

By the time Samantha arrived home, she was completely drained. She flopped onto the couch, groaning.

"Ugh… What a day. Stupid flat tire. But Jo… he's kind of cute. Tall, good-looking, and funny," she murmured to herself, a small smile playing on her lips. "Alright, shower first."

Without wasting another second, she grabbed her towel and headed to her room.

The hot water washed away the exhaustion clinging to her body, and as usual, she hummed along to her favorite song, letting herself relax.

Freshly showered, she stepped out of the bathroom, her damp skin wrapped in a towel.

And then—she froze.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind.

Her breath hitched. Her pulse pounded in her ears as a familiar warmth enveloped her, sending a dangerous shiver down her spine.

The scent. The presence. The touch.

She knew who it was before he even spoke.

"Miss me?" A deep, husky voice rumbled against her ear.

Her entire body tensed.

"Sean…" The name escaped her lips in a whisper, barely audible, laced with disbelief and something far more treacherous.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me you don’t want this."

Her fingers trembled as they clutched the edge of her towel. It was the only barrier between them—thin, fragile, just like the control she was desperately trying to hold on to.

His grip tightened. "You’ve been avoiding me, Sam."

"I… I—" Her voice wavered.

"Say it." His lips brushed against the sensitive spot near her ear, his voice a mix of temptation and torment. "Say you don’t feel the same."

She should push him away. She should scream, run—do anything but stand there, melting into his embrace. But her body betrayed her, paralyzed between anger, confusion, and something far more dangerous—longing.

She swallowed hard, forcing her hands to steady. "Let me go."

Sean didn’t move. If anything, his hold grew firmer. He lowered his head, his lips hovering just above the curve of her neck. "Is that what you really want?"

Her heartbeat thundered so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. Finally, he loosened his hold just enough for her to turn and face him.

The moment she looked into his eyes, she regretted it. His gaze was dark, burning with emotions she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. His jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable, but his intensity threatened to consume her.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, her voice steadier now, even though her hands still shook.

Sean stared at her for a long moment before finally speaking.

"You really want to know why?"

She exhaled shakily. "Sean, we can’t—"

"Goddamn it, Sam," his voice was raw, filled with frustration and something deeper—something desperate. "Do you think I don’t see what you’re doing? You pretend like I don’t exist, like I’m just some shadow you can ignore. But I see you."

His forehead pressed against hers, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I see the way your hands shake when I’m near. I hear the way your breath catches when I touch you. Tell me I’m wrong."

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes.

He wasn’t wrong. Every part of her ached for him, screamed for him. And that was exactly why she had to fight this—to stop before they crossed a line neither of them could ever come back from.

"I can’t do this," her voice broke, a whisper of agony.

Sean exhaled sharply, his fingers grazing down her arm, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. "You can. You just don’t want to."

A lump formed in her throat. He was right. God, he was right.

But if she gave in… what about Stella?

The woman who had taken her in when she had no one. Her sister—not by blood, but by bond. The woman who had given her a home, a family, when she had been lost. What kind of monster would she be if she betrayed that?

"You love her," she whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it true. Would make this all disappear.

A dark chuckle left Sean’s lips, bitter and wounded.

"Do I?" he challenged, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Or have I just been telling myself that because it’s easier than admitting the truth?"

Samantha shook her head quickly, her nails digging into her palms. "No. No, you can’t say things like that. You don’t—"

Sean cut her off, his voice low and dangerous. "Then tell me you don’t feel the same."

Silence. A silence so thick, so suffocating, it threatened to break her apart.

Because she couldn’t say it. It would be a lie and they both knew it.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but this time, Sean didn’t wipe it away. He just stood there, watching her break, as if waiting for her to take it back.

"This has to stop," she whispered.

Sean’s jaw tensed, his eyes burning with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

"Is that really what you want?" His voice was empty now—no longer desperate, but something far more dangerous.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. "Yes."

His fists clenched at his sides. Without another word, he turned and walked away.

The door shut behind him. Samantha collapsed onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. Her whole body trembled, her heart shattered into pieces in a way it never had before. She had done the right thing. She had to believe that.

But if it was right… Why did it feel like she had just lost everything?