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Happenstance Has a Pulse

Author: Malika Swain
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-05-30 06:52:09

He’s sitting outside The Steamhouse Café, face turned toward the street as the autumn wind nudges his collar. He’s early. Brielle’s always late. One of the twins had a cold, or maybe she’s using the chaos as an excuse to delay their meeting again.

He doesn’t care. He’s composed, clean-shaven, in a dark green sweater he’d picked on purpose—soft, calm, fatherly. The part he’s playing is good man in progress.

He’s barely sipping the lukewarm coffee when movement across the street catches his eye.

There she is.

Aria.

Flowy sweater, jeans hugging her hips like sin, boots kicking up yellow leaves like she’s in some f*cking Hallmark movie. Hair tied up. Head tilted down—no, she’s laughing. Smiling. Talking on the phone.

And God help him, glowing.

He doesn’t realize he’s staring until someone walking by glances at him like he’s weird.

His lips part, the instinct to call out nearly escaping him. Her name itches at the back of his throat.

But he doesn’t say it.

Because she doesn’t see
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  • Reclaiming Aria    Cursed by the Cradle

    The engine growled beneath him, chewing up the two-lane road back into Hollow like it had a goddamn vendetta. Mason gripped the wheel with one hand, knuckles pale, the other resting loose on the shifter. The town’s lights were still a blur in the distance, nothing but a flickering glow across the trees—but they were getting closer. Too close. Not close enough. His phone buzzed again on the passenger seat. Sloane. SLOANE: Where the hell are you? Tanya’s 5cm. You’re gonna miss it. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when the taste of last night still burned in his mouth like acid. He had followed them. Three towns over. He parked two blocks down and watched Aria fucking float across the sidewalk—straight into Kade Calloway’s arms like she was made to fit there. Laughing. Smiling. That fucking coat barely covering her thighs. Her hair straight and shining like glass. Her lips painted like sin. He’d never seen her look that alive when she was with him. And that bastard—Calloway—he did

  • Reclaiming Aria    Her Body, His Religion

    The morning is soft and gold-drenched, sunlight slipping through gauzy curtains like a secret. It spills over the plush hotel sheets, across the pale cream walls, and glows against the glass vases of fresh roses on the side table—Kade’s doing, of course. He’d planned everything. The room itself is spacious and intimate. Hardwood floors, velvet armchairs, a king-sized bed that looks properly wrecked. The air smells like lavender and skin. On the dresser, there’s a sleek leather overnight bag with Aria’s name on the tag—Sloane’s planning, no doubt. There’s even chocolate truffles resting on a silver tray near the coffee bar, unopened, forgotten in the haze of everything they did the night before. And what a night it was. Three rounds. Three different versions of pleasure. Kade had been a man possessed. Focused. Reverent. Like touching her was his life’s work, like her body was a story only he had the right to read—over and over again. Kades still curled around her like she’s th

  • Reclaiming Aria    The Night He Found Heaven

    His lips started at her throat, dragging down with maddening care—pressing kisses like vows into every inch of her skin. The hollow of her collarbone. The curve of her breast. The trembling rise of her stomach. He didn’t rush. No, baby, Kade was a man on a mission. And his mission was devotion. He looked up at her from between her thighs, voice low and ragged. “Look at me, Aria.” Her eyes met his—and she swore her soul caught fire. “I want you to remember this. Every time you close your eyes. Every fucking time someone says my name.” She whimpered his name like a prayer. He kissed just above the lace of her panties, teeth grazing her skin. Hands sliding up her thighs slow enough to drive her out of her mind. He untied those dainty little bows like he was unwrapping a secret made just for him. “Prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, eyes wild, reverent. And then he tasted her. One slow, deep lick—and she arched off the bed like she’d been struck by light

  • Reclaiming Aria    The Trench Coat Theory

    The cab ride was a slow-burn dream. City lights streaked by in a blur of gold and violet, soft rain tapping against the windows, the inside of the cab a quiet cocoon of heat and heartbeat. Aria sat beside him, her trench coat closed tight, her thigh pressed against his like it belonged there. Every bump in the road sent a spark between them. She was quiet, biting her lip, fingertips trailing absent-minded circles over the back of his hand. Kade didn’t rush her. Didn’t push. He just kept stealing glances—like he couldn’t believe she was real. “Was the restaurant what you expected?” he asked, his voice low, rough, already threaded with want. She nodded slowly. “More than I expected.” Kade’s lips twitched. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” ⸻ The Hotel It was just outside of the city, tucked between hills and forest, cloaked in soft fog and elegance. A restored estate turned boutique inn—intimate and rich with deep wood, soft lighting, and staff that spoke in hushed, respectful to

  • Reclaiming Aria     The Trenchcoat Temptress

    The hallway of the hotel smells like expensive soap and temptation. Inside Sloane’s room? Absolute chaos. “Sit down,” Sloane demands, spinning Aria toward the vanity like a general preparing her soldier for war. “Tonight? You’re not a librarian. You’re a goddamn weapon.” She yanks the flat iron through Aria’s thick dark hair, one slow pull after the other until it hangs like black silk down her back—sharp, gleaming, flawless. It falls around her shoulders like a blade in waiting. Bone straight. Ruthless. Sloane steps back, arms crossed, eyes gleaming. “Hair? Check. Face? Check. Confidence?” She raises a brow. Aria swallows, nerves twisting tight in her belly. “Pending.” Sloane tosses her a wicked smile. “Not for long.” They move to the bed where the trench coat lays—pressed and perfect. Aria shrugs it on, the satin lining cool against her bare skin. Underneath? The sheer black teddy they picked two days ago. High cut at the hips. Deep plunge at the chest. She’s not even wearing

  • Reclaiming Aria    Reins and Restraint

    The sun’s barely crested over Calloway Hollow, stretching golden fingers over the fields like it’s got nowhere better to be. But Kade? He’s been up since before dawn, and every second without her is like barbed wire under his skin. He’s working Apollo in the pen again—young colt, high energy, sharp as hell—but Kade’s head isn’t in it. Not really. Not since he kissed Aria on that porch like he was drowning and she was the last breath of air left on Earth. He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. About her. That f*cking kiss broke something wide open inside him. Sweat clings to his neck. He yanks off his hat and runs a hand through his hair, letting the colt settle. His breath’s ragged, but not from the work. “Dude,” a voice pipes up behind him, and Kade turns to see Ty, one of the younger ranch hands. Barely twenty, cocky as hell, and always looking like he’s one sentence away from getting smacked. Ty leans against the fence, arms crossed, smirking like he knows something he sh

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