[BL] CRAVING HIM: Addicted to His Voice-Chapter 301: Inside Evans’s Forbidden Room

~Nantam’s POV~

I was smiling, feeling a mix of nervousness and exhilaration from the phone call, when my phone buzzed again. It was a message from Zayn in our friends’ group chat.

Zayn: Hey everyone! I’m happy to announce that I’m finally having the grand opening for my second restaurant next weekend!

I quickly typed a reply. Nantam: Congratulations, friend! That’s incredible news!

Dean: I almost thought you were dropping your wedding invitation! Anyway, congratulations, Zayn.

Zayn: Soon, Dean. Soon.

In the evening, I drove to Evans’s house. Getting there, I saw that Evans had truly prepared, like he was welcoming the president of the country. The house was immaculate, the lighting soft, and there was a subtle, masculine scent in the air. I couldn’t help but smile at the effort he’d made.

He brought out a bottle of fine wine, and we settled onto his plush sofa. As we started drinking, Evans leaned forward, his gaze warm and focused.

"Before we just jump back into... everything," he said, indicating the previous night’s intense conclusion, "I want us to do something deliberate. A proper introduction."

I raised an eyebrow. "An introduction? We’ve known each other for a while now, Evans."

"As a friend, yes," he corrected me softly. "But not as potential partners. I need you to tell me what you think I need to know about Nantam, the parts you haven’t told me before. It doesn’t have to be dramatic."

I smiled. "There’s nothing about me that literally deserves special attention."

"It might not deserve attention to you, but to me, it’s important," he insisted.

So, I did. I opened up completely, sharing my childhood, not just the lighthearted memories, but the messy, unpolished parts too. I spoke about how my relentless drive for success often left me isolated, how solving complex problems brought me the most joy, and how my sapiosexuality shaped the way I connected with others, making attachments difficult. I admitted that when I finally devoted myself to someone, it was always total and all-consuming, explaining why I was so hesitant now.

"I don’t do things halfway," I finished. "If I’m in, I’m all in. And that commitment scares me."

Then, it was his turn. He introduced himself to me also, telling me about his own complicated family dynamic, why he chose to focus on his work with such intensity, and what he truly wanted out of life, not just professionally, but personally. He spoke about his plans for the future, sharing ambitions that went beyond just career, business deals, and wealth, things he wanted to build, experiences he wanted to have.

We talked a lot, covering topics that usually took months of cautious dating to reveal. It felt surprisingly easy, intimate, and right.

Then Evans asked, "What about your secret that no one knows?"

I smiled mischievously. "If it’s a secret, why do I have to say it? It’s called a secret for a reason."

"That’s true," he conceded with a playful shake of his head

We continued talking about each other until Evans paused, his expression turning oddly thoughtful. He told me that he had a secret, not a typical secret, but something like the darkest side of him. He quickly added that it didn’t matter, though, because for me, he was ready to change.

I laughed, refusing to take him seriously. "Darkest side? What part of a darkest side can that be, Evans? You’re perfect! I refuse to believe someone like you will have flaws, talk less of a darkest side."

He simply smiled, a hint of mystery lingering in his eyes. "For now, we should leave the topic. When we get to that bridge, we are going to cross it."

I accepted the boundary. "Okay."

We continued sipping our wine, and soon after, his maid served the table, and we moved to the dining room to eat.

After we ate, he told me he wanted me to watch some of his upcoming TV show, a new series he was particularly proud of. We sat down, and I watched the pilot episode, completely captivated. "You’re perfect," I told him when it was over. "And you’re a genuinely good actor."

"Thank you, Nan," he said, taking my hand.

It was getting late, and I knew I had to maintain the pretense of my independence. "I need to start going," I announced, making a move to stand up.

"I thought you would be passing the night," he said, sounding disappointed.

I lied easily. "I did not plan to spend the night," I said, even though I had truly come so I could spend the night with him.

Evans saw right through my protest. He got up, blocking my path, and begged me to stay, his hands resting on my waist. He tried to persuade me with soft murmurs and warm glances. I tried to pretend I did not want to stay, putting up a half-hearted fight, but eventually, I let him win.

"Okay, fine," I conceded, allowing a smile. "I’ll stay."

Evans beamed, his relief and pleasure lighting up his features. Just like that, the decision was made. I stayed the night.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, Evans caught me from behind, drawing me firmly against his body. His hands slid around my waist, his voice low and intimate against my ear. "You agreed to stay," he murmured. "Does that mean you’re ready to see where tonight takes us?"

I smiled, summoning all the courage Nicki had given me. "Yes," I said, the word coming out steady despite the tremor in my chest. Inside, I was nervous, but I had to conquer my fear. I had promised Nicki, and truly, I didn’t want to wait any longer. Whatever the result, whether this blossomed or ended, I needed to know it now.

Evans turned me gently to face him. He didn’t speak; he just kissed me, a searing kiss that stole my breath. His hands moved quickly, lifting my shirt and grasping my waist, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. He was an incredible kisser, and I couldn’t easily match his energy, throwing all my pent-up emotion into the connection.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged. "You don’t have to worry whether you do anything right or wrong," he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. "Just allow me to lead."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Alright."

He kissed me again, then gently walked me backward across the room. I assumed he was leading me to the bed, but he kept going, past the lavish four-poster and into a completely different part of the room.

He stopped the kissing, finally pulling back to face a set of unmarked, heavy wooden doors tucked into the wall, designed to blend seamlessly with the paneling. He pushed the doors inward, and then he turned me around to look inside.

The kiss-induced haze vanished instantly, replaced by the biggest shock of my life.

What?

This wasn’t a bedroom. This was a playroom.

This was clearly a specialized space. The lighting was low and dramatic, with deep colors creating shadows. The air smelled of clean leather and polished wood.

The furniture was sparse but very deliberate: a heavy, leather-padded bench sat in the center. Against the far wall stood a large wooden frame, outfitted with thick, adjustable leather cuffs.

On a nearby rack, various instruments were displayed: sets of floggers and paddles made of rich wood and flexible leather. There were also thick, soft ropes and metal rings hanging ready.

I stared at the gleaming equipment, adrenaline flooding my system. I had expected a romantic night. I had not expected a dedicated BDSM playroom.

My mouth was dry. I turned to look at Evans, who was watching me with a mix of anticipation and concern. This was far beyond what I had mentally prepared for. My nervousness spiked into full, blinding panic.

"No way," I stated, the words cracking slightly. I shook my head, stepping back toward the main room. "No way I’m doing this with you."

But before I could step any further toward the relative safety of the room, Evans moved. He was fast.

He grabbed my waist with a firm, decisive grip, pulling me back against him. His eyes, usually so warm, were suddenly dark and intense.

"You can’t say no," he murmured, his voice husky, "when you already said yes."

Before I could process the words or struggle, he grabbed my hand...