My Construction Site Nightmare - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I shot him a glare. "Chase Langley, let's get one thing straight—I'm two years older than you. That makes me practically your sister. And for the record, I already have a boyfriend, so don't even think about crossing that line, got it?"
"Heh."
He just chuckled, running a hand through his hair, but stayed silent.
I had no clue how he'd managed to drag me back to my room—or how much he'd taken advantage of me along the way.
After helping me inside and making sure I was settled, he turned to leave when I suddenly called out, "Chase, answer me honestly. Was it you that night? The one peeking through my window?"
To my shock, he didn't even hesitate.
"Yeah, Bianca. That was me."
My face burned. Women were rare on construction sites, but no guy had ever been bold enough to spy on me before. Leave it to Chase—no shame whatsoever.
"Don't you ever pull that again, or I swear I'll lose it."
I kept my voice low, more of a warning than a threat. We still had to work together, after all.
He just grinned, completely unfazed.
"Bianca, you're too damn pretty to be single. What a waste of those curves—bet you get lonely at night."
Sensing my hesitation, he only got bolder.
"None of your damn business."
His shameless flirting made my blood boil.
"Come on, Bianca. If you don't have a boyfriend, I'll gladly step up. What do you say?" He flexed his abs, flashing me that infuriating smirk.
I shoved him back and slammed the dormitory door in his face.
Locked out, Chase let out a teasing whistle before sauntering off.
I took a long shower.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but even after scrubbing off the day, my skin still felt feverish. Slipping into fresh clothes, I collapsed onto my bed, an unexpected loneliness settling over me.
My fingers traced my flushed cheeks, the swell of my breasts, the smooth curve of my thighs. A quiet ache pulsed through me—I wanted a man's voice in my ear, his arms around me, his warmth beside me. How sweet that would be.
What girl doesn't crave love? I longed for the weight of an embrace, the comfort of affection.
I did have a boyfriend, but he worked in the city thirty miles away—too far to ease this sudden, restless hunger.
Maybe it was just my hormones after my period. My body burned, restless between my thighs, and I wished my boyfriend would magically appear to soothe the ache.
But I didn't want to bother him. He worked late shifts, harder than I did.
Lost in the haze of longing, I finally drifted off.
The next morning, my phone buzzed. Hoping it was my boyfriend, I grabbed it—only to see Chase's name.
"Bianca, when are we grabbing dinner? My treat!"
He wanted a real date.
Annoyed, I fired back: "Not happening. Ask someone else."
"Bianca, don't be like that. I'm serious about you." He flooded my messages with flirty nonsense, claiming he'd dreamed about me. "Seriously, you were in this white lace dress—pale skin, curves for days, legs that go on forever. Stunning. I mean every word."
Every woman loves a compliment, and I was no exception.
"I promise, no jokes. Just one dinner. Let me get to know you." He was practically begging now. "I'll keep my hands to myself. Just one chance."