I tried

HAZEL

I’m cautious, frozen beneath him, for a second I think he wont listen, but he surprisingly does. He stops kissing me. He stops touching me. He just... stops.

But he’s still on top of me. His hands are on either side of my head, caging me in. I see him watching me, his chest tight, his forehead glistening, and he’s breathing hard as his dark, intense eyes lock on mine.

He’s hard..... God, I can feel him between my legs as he stares down at me.

There’s a storm in his eyes. Things I can’t name. Things I can’t understand. But beneath all that, the one thing I do recognize is Anger. Cold, quiet fury.

He just stares at me while I lie there under him, my hands raised slightly, unsure if I’m about to push him away, or fight, or just... brace for whatever happens next.

He’s the one in power.

He’s the one in control.

And right now, he could do anything.

The room is dead silent except for the sound of our breathing. His heavy, ragged, mine trembling and shallow.

He stares for so long I can’t tell anymore what’s going through his head. And then, suddenly, he moves.

He’s off me in one swift motion. Standing and turning away. He swiftly starts buttoning his shirt.... I didn’t even realize it had been half undone, and then he grabs his jacket. I still can’t see his face; he won’t look at me.

He slips the jacket on, straightens it, and without a single word, without even glancing back, he walks out the door.

Leaving me there.

Lying on the bed.

Breathless. Shaking. Alone.

*********

When I wake up the next morning, I don’t move. I just lie there. Staring at the ceiling. Breathing. Thinking.

But for some reason, I can still smell him..... Axel.

His scent lingers, that sharp, expensive cologne mixed with something darker, something that’s just him....I can still feel him too. The weight of his body, his breath on my skin, the heat of his mouth against mine, his hands....

God, his hands, everywhere. I’ve never been that close to him.Not like that.

Not skin to skin.

Not with my mouth on his, or his hands all over me. And now… I can’t stop smelling him.

I can’t stop feeling him.

I can’t stop thinking about him.

Getting any sleep last night was torture. I tossed and turned for hours, my body restless, my mind replaying every second over and over until I wanted to scream in frustration

If I could forget what happened between us, maybe I could find peace. Because there’s something else....something he awoke in me that refuses to quiet down.

That need.

That hunger.

And I’ve never tried getting myself off before. Never even thought about it seriously. But last night… I tried.

God, I tried.

It was embarrassing, awkward, frustrating. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get that same feeling back, the one Axel had stirred inside me. And instead of relief, all I found was more frustration.

At some point, I kicked my legs and arms in anger, thrashing against the sheets like a child throwing a tantrum.

My bladder finally reminds me I am still human, I groan and rush to the bathroom. At least that is something I could control. Something I could relieve.

When I’m done, I decide to take a second shower. I know I took one last night, right after Axel left. I had to. I needed to control my temperature, to calm my body before I did something stupid… like go out there, find him, and try to make us finish what we started.

But this morning, I need another one.

Because I can still feel him.

I can still smell him.

I can still… God, this isn’t right.

So I quickly hop into the shower again, letting the water pour down my skin until it almost burns. It’s the longest shower possible, and still, it’s not enough.

When I finally step out, I brush my teeth, wash my face, anything to feel clean. But as I look up at the mirror, guilt hits me in the face.

It’s hard to meet my own eyes. Because I’m thinking about Harris.

I’m thinking about what he would say if he knew what happened last night, if he knew that the man who hurt him, who took me from him, was the same man whose mouth I let touch mine, whose hands I didn’t stop, whose presence made me feel things I shouldn’t have felt.

Would he be disappointed?

Would he get hurt?

If I ever get out of here, if I ever find him again.....what would he think of me? Would I still be worthy of his love somehow?

The thoughts twist my stomach. I shake my head, forcing them away as I step out of the bathroom. I walk to my closet, pull out some clothes, get dressed mechanically, and then sit on the edge of the bed.

I don’t move. Why? Because I’m afraid.

Afraid to go downstairs.

I know what you’re thinking, why would I be afraid to go downstairs? But What if I see him?

What if Axel’s down there?

How do I look at him?

What do I say?

For some reason, everything feels different now. Something shifted between us last night, something I can’t name but can feel.

For the first three months I was here, I was terrified, focused only on one thing: escape. I knew who I was, and I knew who he was. The roles were clear. He was the captor. I was the prisoner.

But now… after last night… I don’t know how to take that. I don’t know how to even look at him. And worse, I keep wondering if anyone else knows. Did someone see us? The maids? His men? The guards?

Did they see him kiss me on the stairs?

It sounds stupid, but after what Nico said to me yesterday, about being Axel's one of Many mistresses....something inside me wants to prove I’m not that woman.

I want to prove that I’m not one of Axel's many mistresses. But after last night…