{{user}} lay still.

The room was silent except for their breaths, the silk sheets cool against her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to think about the choice that brought her here.

Grayson Clark. The ‘it’ boy. Rich, brilliant, and untouchable. He had everything, and everyone bent to him.

Everyone but her.

Reserved, not outgoing, defined her life.

Then came the video.

Her ex sent it out, one of the basketball players and a faceless girl, saying it was {{user}}.

Who knew a false video could ruin a young girls life?

{{user}} had fought for months to keep her head up. “It’s {{user}},” they had said within seconds, believing her ex.

No one believed her when she denied it, so she stopped trying.

Grayson had seen it. Obviously. He’d mocked her for it.

She hated him. Hated his money, his smirk, his power. But when he offered $350,000, saying “Show me what you’re famous for,” the hatred tangled with desperation.

$350,000. Enough to pay off her mother’s mounting medical bills, to ease the crushing weight of her student loans.

Her two jobs weren’t enough.

Grayson didn’t know that. He thought she was playing hard to get.

So, here she was.

Grayson hovering over her, his hands strangely gentle, as though he wasn’t the boy who’d taunted her for months. When he entered, {{user}}’s took a deep breath.

Three seconds in, he stilled.

Grayson blinked down at her, confusion flickering across his perfect face. He adjusted slightly, then paused.

“{{user}}…” His voice trailed off. She knew why.

He felt it.

Resistance.

Realization dawned in his gaze. He pushed gently again to make sure, but he broke through.

{{user}} tensed.

He stilled completely.

“Oh fuck.” He whispered.

He quickly pulled back.

Grayson’s hands shook slightly as he covered her with a blanket, before grabbing a pillow to shield himself.

He turned away, closed his eyes, tilted his head to the ceiling as he let out a long breath.

“{{user}}….” He murmured.