MasukRae’s POV I jolted awake in the dark. Heart racing, chest tight, sheets twisted around my legs like they’d tried to hold me down. The clock on the nightstand glowed 2:47 a.m. Moonlight sliced through the cracked balcony doors in thin silver blades, cutting across the bed and Killian’s bare shoulder beside me. He was still asleep—arm draped over my waist, fingers loose but warm against my stomach, breathing deep and even. I tried to stay quiet. I really did. Didn’t want to wake him again. Didn’t want to be the reason his eyes opened full of worry for the third time tonight. But the tears came anyway. Hot. Silent. Rolling down my temples into the pillow. I bit my lip hard—hard enough to taste copper—but small, choked sounds escaped anyway. My shoulders shook. I curled tighter into myself—knees to chest, arms wrapped around my shins—trying to muffle it, trying to make myself small enough that the pain couldn’t find me. Mom’s voice kept looping in my head—every word a fresh cut.
Rae’s POV The hallway was dim—only the warm yellow spill from the kitchen ahead breaking the shadows. The house was silent except for the faint, familiar hum of the fridge and the distant tick of the wall clock in the living room. My legs felt unsteady as I stepped out of the guest room—knees weak from crying, hoodie sleeves damp and wrinkled from wiping tears. I paused just outside the doorway, heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, a dull thud-thud-thud that drowned out everything else. I didn’t know what I’d find when I reached the light. Part of me was terrified he’d be angry—quietly furious that I’d shut him out, that I’d hurt him by disappearing behind a closed door. Part of me was ashamed—deep, burning shame that I’d let my mother’s words crawl inside my head and make me believe, even for a moment, that I was dirty for loving him. Part of me was guilty—because he’d been suffering alone in that kitchen while I cried in Zara’s arms. And part of me—just the
Rae’s POV The guest room felt smaller than it ever had. I’d curled myself into the smallest ball possible on top of the duvet—knees pulled tight to my chest, arms wrapped around my shins, hoodie hood up like it could hide me from everything. The bedside lamp was on—low, amber—throwing long shadows across the wall. Curtains closed. Suitcase still zipped by the door where Killian had set it down. I hadn’t touched it. Hadn’t moved much at all since walking past Zara and shutting the door behind me. I kept replaying the call in my head—every word sharp enough to cut fresh each time. You’re such a disappointment, Rae. Never did I imagine a day would come that I’d find out my child has become a whore. The words looped—louder each cycle—until my chest hurt and my breathing came shallow and fast. I pressed my forehead harder into my knees, trying to make myself smaller, trying to disappear. Soft knock on the door. “Rae?” Zara’s voice—gentle, careful. “Can I come in, babe?” I did
Killian’s POV The airport terminal assaulted every sense after five days in the resort bubble. Too bright. Too loud. Too many people moving too fast. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like angry insects; announcements crackled in three languages; rolling suitcases clattered across tile. I kept Rae tucked against my side—arm tight around her waist, one hand carrying both our carry-ons so she didn’t have to lift a finger. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t lean in either. Just moved—mechanical, eyes forward, face blank except for the red rims and faint tear tracks she hadn’t bothered to wipe. I hated every second of it. She’d barely spoken since the call. After her mother’s voice sliced through the phone like glass, Rae had stood frozen in the middle of the suite—silent tears rolling, phone still pressed to her ear long after the line went dead. I’d rushed to her, pulled her into my arms, rocked her on the floor until the sobs slowed. But when I asked what happened she’d o
Rae’s POV The morning sun was already bright and merciless when I woke up. It poured through the open balcony doors in thick golden shafts, turning the white sheets into blinding white and the marble floor into a mirror. Killian was still asleep beside me—face half-buried in the pillow, one arm flung across my waist, breathing deep and slow. His skin smelled like salt, sunscreen, and us from last night. The room still carried the faint scent of chlorine from the pool, lavender from the spa, and the lingering sweetness of the strawberries we’d eaten off each other’s fingers at 3 a.m. I lay there for a few minutes—watching his chest rise and fall, tracing the line of his jaw with my eyes—until my phone buzzed once on the nightstand. Then again. Then a third time—persistent. I reached for it without thinking. Mom. The name on the screen hit me like cold water. My stomach dropped so fast I felt dizzy. I hadn’t spoken to her since we left. Not once. Texts—yes. Quick “I’m fine” re
Rae’s POV The moon was high when we stepped back into the suite—full and silver, spilling cold light across the marble floor and the white sheets of the unmade bed. The balcony doors had been left open all day; now the ocean sounded louder in the dark, a steady roar that filled every corner of the room. Killian closed the door behind us with a quiet click. No rush. No words at first. He just looked at me—eyes dark and steady—then crossed the space between us in three slow steps. His hands found my waist—thumbs brushing the silk of the wrap dress I’d worn to dinner. The fabric was still warm from my skin, the knot at my waist loose from hours of dancing and leaning into him on the sand. He didn’t untie it yet. Instead he cupped my face—tilted it up—and kissed me like we had all the time in the world. Slow. Deep. Tongue brushing mine in lazy strokes that tasted like the last sip of red wine we’d shared. I sighed into his mouth, hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling int
Rae’s POVThe silence after my confession stretched so long I could hear the soft tick of the hallway clock. Killian stayed crouched in front of me, thumbs stroking slow arcs over my cheeks, eyes searching mine like he could see every frightened corner of my heart.“Rae,” he started, voice low an
Rae’s POVWe never broke the kiss.Not once.Killian carried me through the pool-house door, kicking it shut behind us with his heel. Moonlight and fairy lights painted everything gold and silver, but I barely saw it. All I felt were his lips on mine, his tongue stroking slow and deep, the cool fl
Rae’s POVI woke slowly, wrapped in warmth and the faint scent of cedar and sleep-warm skin. For a moment I didn’t know where I was. The sheets were softer than mine, the mattress deeper, and there was a heavy arm locked around my waist like an iron band. A leg was thrown over both of mine, pin
Rae’s POVThe room was nothing but heat and heartbeat and the low hum of the TV we’d long forgotten. I was trembling on his lap, thighs clamped around his hips, lace soaked through, every roll of my hips dragging my clit over the thick ridge of his cock. Killian’s hands were iron on my ass, guid







