It’s been three years since I finished my campus life. I am now an Assistant author in a reputed book publishing company. I received an invitation from the campus as an old girl to participate for the sports day which planned happen between the old girls and boys of the campus.

The morning sun glinted off the polished floor of the campus sports hall, making my heart race with a mix of nerves and excitement. Today wasn’t just any day—it was Sports Day, and I’d volunteered for the women’s basketball match. Cleo had rolled her eyes at my enthusiasm, muttering something about me “craving attention,” but I didn’t care. I had my uniform ready: a snug jersey and, yes, a miniskirted basketball skirt that I knew would turn heads. My thighs tingled with anticipation as I pulled it on, paired with my sneakers, and tied my hair back tightly.

As I entered the gym, the bleachers already teeming with students, I immediately felt the heat of gazes on me. Every male—students, some professors lingering, and even a few staff—were staring. I could hear whistles, low murmurs, and the unmistakable undertone of admiration. My body flushed, an involuntary thrill coiling in my stomach.

Then I spotted them—Adrian and Cassian. Both leaning slightly, watching me from the side of the court with that calculated, predatory intensity that always made me shiver. Their eyes weren’t just observing—they were claiming. My stomach twisted; I felt a rush of excitement, tinged with nervousness. Both men were clearly jealous, and the knowledge made my pulse spike.

The referee blew the whistle, and the game began. I darted across the court, the skirt swishing with every step, adrenaline pumping through me. Each time I passed the ball or made a move, I could feel the male attention, the cheers, and the whistle of admiration. And I felt them—Cassian’s gaze burning into my back, Adrian’s jaw tightening as he gripped the rail. Both of them, unspoken, wanting to own me fully in that moment.

I dribbled past a defender, my legs pumping as the crowd roared. I could hear Cassian muttering lowly under his breath, “She’s mine…” and Adrian’s voice, calm but lethal, slicing into my mind, “Stay under control, Sophie.” The mix of dominance, jealousy, and erotic tension radiating from both men was overwhelming, and my body responded even as I tried to stay focused on the game.

By the final quarter, we were tied. The whistle blew, and the crowd went wild as I made the final shot, the ball swishing cleanly through the net. Cheers erupted. I lifted my hands, celebrating, and the sound of applause, whistles, and catcalls washed over me like a wave of heat. My face flushed crimson, not just from the exertion but from the knowledge of what I’d stirred in both men.

Cassian was the first to cross the court. He grabbed my wrist with a grip that was firm, possessive, and utterly intoxicating. “You think you can wear that skirt and parade yourself around without consequences?” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. His hands were warm, strong, sending shivers down my spine.

Before I could respond, Adrian appeared beside us, eyes dark, jaw tight, his own hand sliding around my waist possessively. “Cassian,” he said, his voice low and warning, “you’re forgetting whose control we’re under.” Then his gaze flicked to me, sharp and intent. “And you… you need to learn exactly what consequences look like.”

My chest fluttered, heat pooling low in my abdomen. The possessiveness of both men, the danger, the erotic tension—it was intoxicating. My mind spun with anticipation and fear as Cassian lifted me effortlessly over his shoulder in a casual, dominating display. “You’re coming with me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I felt Adrian’s presence follow us closely, each step of Cassian’s measured and powerful, every movement a statement of ownership. Adrian’s shadow loomed behind us as if he were a dark, protective storm, and my body tensed deliciously with anticipation. The hallways seemed to shrink around us, every eye trailing the three of us as we passed. I was acutely aware of how completely the attention had shifted from the cheering crowd to the men flanking me, both radiating dominance and possessiveness.

Once inside Cassian’s room, he set me down gently but firmly. His hands lingered on my shoulders, massaging, kneading, but there was no gentleness in his eyes. They burned with desire, jealousy, and a possessive hunger I had never felt so intensely before. Adrian stood just behind him, his posture rigid, jaw tight, and gaze fixed on me. The electricity in the room was palpable.

“You thought that skirt was for showing off, didn’t you?” Cassian whispered, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath against my skin. “You wanted every man in that hall to notice you. But you forgot… we notice everything first.”

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