Chapter Two

I didn’t sleep that night.

Every time I closed my eyes, I felt his mouth on me again, the slow drag of his tongue, the way his fingers had curled inside me, the low growl of satisfaction when I came apart. My body still hummed with it, traitorous and alive in a way it had never been before.

By morning, I was a wreck so I stayed in my room as long as I could, pretending to unpack, scrolling mindlessly through my phone... just anything to avoid going downstairs. But the loud rumble in my stomach forced me out.

The kitchen smelled like coffee and bacon. Laura was at the island in her old college sweatshirt, hair piled on top of her head, laptop open. Vincent sat beside her, one arm draped casually over the back of her chair, scrolling through something on his tablet.

They looked perfect together... Happy. My stomach twisted.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Laura said without looking up. “There’s coffee.”

Vincent’s eyes lifted to mine. Just a calm glance like last night had been a dream.

I poured myself a mug with shaking hands and leaned against the counter, as far from them as the room allowed.

“How’d you sleep?” Laura asked, finally turning and frowned. “You look exhausted.”

“Long drive,” I mumbled.

Vincent just sipped his coffee and said nothing. He stayed another hour helping Laura with final thesis edits, making her laugh with some story about a client at work. I hovered on the edges, pretending to read emails, watching the way his hand rested on Laura’s shoulder, the way she leaned into him without thinking.

When he finally left after kissing Laura goodbye at the door, I felt the air shift.

For two weeks, nothing happened.

He came over for dinners, movie nights, wedding planning sessions. Always polite and perfect, but I felt him watching me.

Across the dinner table when I reached for the salt. In the living room when I stretched during a movie, my shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of skin. Once, in the hallway, he passed close enough that his fingers brushed the small of my back, barely a touch, gone before I could react.

Each time, heat flared low in my belly and I hated myself for it. I told myself it was over... just a mistake and I almost believed it.

Then the night came when Laura had a late group presentation on campus.

She texted around seven, “Running late. Might not be home till after ten. Vincent said he’d swing by anyway and he’ll bring food. Wait if you’re up.”

I stared at the message as my pulse kicked hard. I should have gone out, maybe driven to a friend’s. Anything. Instead, I stayed... I knew what was coming and I stayed.

I was in the kitchen pouring a glass of water when I heard the front door open.

He appeared in the doorway, takeout bags in one hand, keys in the other. Dark jeans, charcoal sweater. Hair a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it.

“Hey,” he said casual... like always.

“Hey.” My voice came out steady. That was a miracle.

He set the bags on the counter. Thai food, Laura’s favourite.

“Laura still at school?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded as the silence stretched.

I should have said something normal. Asked about work or the wedding. Anything.

Instead, I gripped the glass tighter till my knuckles turned white.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly.

I laughed... very short. “Can you blame me?”

“No.” He stepped closer.

“Don’t,” I said.

He stopped just short of touching me but close enough that I could smell his cologne mixed with rain from outside.

“I’ve been trying to stay away,” he said. “I really have.”

“But?”

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “But I can’t stop thinking about you. About that night. The way you tasted. The sounds you made.”

Heat flooded me, fast and fierce.

“Stop it.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” God help me, I didn’t know.

I turned away, setting the glass in the sink, my hands trembling.

“Laura’s my sister,” I said to the window. “She loves you.”

“I know.”

“She deserves better than this.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“So do you,” he said.

I turned back, startled. “What does that mean?”

Then he moved slowly until he had me caged against the counter. Hands on either side of my hips. They weren’t touching... yet.

“It means I can’t stop wanting you,” he said. “And I think you feel it too.”

His thumb brushed my lower lip, feather-light.

“Tell me to leave,” he said again. Same words as that night in the shower. “Say it, and I will.”

My breath caught and I opened my mouth to speak.

“Please,” I whispered.

But it wasn’t please stop, It was please don’t. And I know he heard the difference.

His mouth crashed into mine with hunger, it was three weeks of restraint snapping all at once. I kissed him back just as hard, hands fisting in his sweater, pulling him closer.

He lifted me onto the counter like I weighed nothing, then my legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. I felt him hard, thick, pressing against me through our clothes, and I moaned into his mouth.

His hands were everywhere. Under my shirt, tracing my spine, cupping my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples through lace until I arched into him.

We didn’t speak because there was nothing to say.

He carried me upstairs, my legs still around him, our mouths were still fused as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind us.

We didn’t make it to the bed the first time, he pressed me against the inside of the door, one hand tangled in my hair, the other sliding between us. His fingers found me soaked through my leggings as he groaned against my neck.

“Fuck, Linda.”

He yanked my leggings down, along with my panties and I kicked them off. His belt buckle clinked then he was lifting me again, my back against the door, and he pushed inside in one deep, perfect thrust.

I cried out... almost too loud but he covered my mouth with his, swallowing the sound as he started to move hard.

Every stroke hit deep, dragging over places that made my vision spark. I clung to his shoulders, nails digging in, meeting every thrust.

It didn’t take long before I came first, shattering around him, clenching hard, biting his lip to stay quiet. He followed seconds later, burying his face in my neck, hips jerking as he spilled inside me with a muffled groan.

We stayed like that panting and trembling until reality crept back in. Then he slowly lowered me to the floor. My legs barely held me as be tucked himself away, zipped up. Then, surprisingly, he pulled me into his arms and held me, hi hand stroking my hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I didn’t know if he meant for starting this or for not being able to stop.

I pulled back and looked up at him. “We can’t do this again.”

He searched my face. “I know.”

But we both knew he was lying.

He placed s soft kiss on my forehead, then he left.

I heard the front door close twenty minutes before Laura got home. She came upstairs, exhausted but triumphant.

“Thesis is done,” she breathed, flopping onto my bed. “Vincent brought dinner, but I guess you guys ate without me.”

I managed a smile. “Yeah,” I said. “We did.”

She hugged me goodnight and went to her room but I lay awake until dawn. My body was satisfied but my heart in pieces and somewhere deep inside, a quiet, terrified voice whispered the truth I wasn’t ready to face.

This wasn’t over yet.