Pinned by the Team Captain - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

My body locked up instantly, my mind going completely blank as if someone had hit pause on my brain.
If the first time was an accident... then what the hell was this?
I couldn't—wouldn't—let myself dwell on it. Like a startled deer, I bolted into the guest room, slamming the door behind me.
Back pressed against the wall, I gasped for air, my entire body shaking.
That's when I felt it—something was wrong. A slow, creeping awareness pulsed through me, undeniable and humiliating.
With trembling fingers, I lifted the hem of my skirt—
No. No, no, no.
Disbelief and shame crashed over me in waves.
Was I really this pathetic? Reacting like this to a man I barely knew?
My face burned. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
What was I supposed to do now?
Move out? Pretend this never happened?
Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the sheer overload of the night, but sleep was impossible. My skin was sticky with sweat, my hair a tangled mess, the stale scent of work clinging to me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, but my thoughts were a hurricane.
By midnight, I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to wash this night off me.
The apartment was dead silent except for my own ragged breathing.
Moving like a ghost, I tiptoed toward the bathroom, every creak of the floorboards making my pulse spike.
I paused outside the master bedroom. No sound. Was Ryan asleep?
I let out a slow breath.
Those touches had to be accidents. He'd been kind enough to let me stay here—why would he have some hidden agenda?
And let's be real—a guy who looked like that? He wouldn't need to force anything.
Lost in thought, I nudged the bathroom door open.
Not wanting to risk noise, I undressed in the dark.
The shower stall was stocked—shampoo, body wash, everything. I scrubbed my hair, then lathered up twice, the scent intoxicating.
I was just reaching for a third pass when—
Creak.
The master bedroom door opened.
I froze.
I thought he was asleep!
My heart jackhammered against my ribs. Pressing myself flat against the tiles, I held my breath.
My clothes were still on the stool. I fumbled for them blindly, fingers shaking.
Footsteps. Closer.
Panic shot through me. I grabbed my dress, yanking it over my head in a frenzy—just as my underwear slipped to the floor.
Before I could even react, light flooded the room.
Ryan stood in the doorway, shirtless, his gaze dragging over me like a physical touch.
"Beautiful," he murmured, voice rough.
No one but my brother had ever called me that. My pulse went wild. My skin burned.
I crossed my arms over my chest, knees locked together, trying to make myself smaller.
"I—I'm sorry, I thought you were—"
"Hands down."
I blinked up at him. "W-what?"
He didn't repeat himself. In one stride, he closed the distance, lifting me effortlessly before pinning me against the counter—