Chapter 17
SINCE ARRIVING at Garret’s house, he’s been a ghost. The bedroom door was left open—a silent invitation, or maybe just indifference—but the space around me feels suffocating. Like the drive over here.
He didn’t say a word. No cruel remarks. No taunts. No surprises.
Just silence.
He drove the short distance like I wasn’t there. But that wasn’t what unsettled me. It was the restraint. The tension.
Garret opened the car door for me, a gesture so unexpectedly chivalrous that I hesitated before stepping out. But that was as far as his civility went. No instructions. No threats. Just an unreadable gaze that sent a ripple of unease through my chest.
And now, I don’t know how to feel. Am I angry that he dragged me away from Leo? That he ruined the brief glimpse of normalcy I’d let myself enjoy? Or am I conflicted by something else—that it bothered him? That he saw me with another guy and reacted?
I don’t want to sit in this room and let my thoughts eat me alive.
Carefully, I push open the door and step into the hallway, my bare feet silent against the cool marble. The house is eerily quiet. No Ace. No sounds of movement.
I exhale, telling myself maybe Garret went to sleep. Maybe he left.
I move forward, curiosity leading me down a hallway—one I haven’t explored before. The house is massive, a maze of intricate woodwork and cold stone, like a living museum of wealth and legacy.
I pass a library filled with books stacked to the ceiling, a ladder affixed to a rail. It reminds me of the one on campus, and for a moment, I pause, about to step inside.
Then I hear it.
A low splash, followed by another.
My heart jumps.
Music plays faintly, its haunting melody curling through the air like smoke. The intro of No Time To Die drifts through the open space, growing louder as I follow the sound. My pulse quickens when I step into the indoor pool area.
The water glows deep crimson beneath the submerged lights, sending ripples of red through the high-ceilinged room. Steam rises in soft wisps where the warmth of the pool meets the crisp night air filtering through the partially open roof.
And then, there’s him.
Garret slices through the water with sharp, precise strokes, each movement smooth, controlled, devastatingly powerful. The muscles in his back shift with every stroke, his tattoos morphing like ink on liquid, his body moving like it was carved from stone.
I should leave.
I should turn around before he catches me watching.
But I don’t.
My feet carry me closer, the marble beneath me cool and slick. I inch toward the edge, my breath shallow, drawn in by the mesmerizing sight of him—like a predator lost in its natural element.
The surface ripples hypnotically, lapping at my toes. I lean in just a little more, peering into the water, wondering how deep it is.
Then—
I slip.
A startled gasp escapes my lips, but it’s swallowed instantly as I plunge into the water. A rush of warmth engulfs me, my body sinking, panic slamming into my ribs like a hammer. Water floods my nose, my throat, burning like fire. I try to surface, try to kick, but I can’t find which way is up. The weight of the water presses against my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
Then, a force like a wrecking ball collides into me.
A steel grip yanks me through the water in a powerful wave, and suddenly, I’m airborne. I choke, spluttering as my body is flipped onto its side, coughing up water while heat—warm, strong, alive—surrounds me.
“Rose! Fuck.” Garret’s voice is sharp, laced with something I can’t name.
His arms are locked around me, his hand pressing against my back, rubbing slow, measured strokes as I struggle to breathe.
His touch is solid, grounding, his body radiating warmth as he holds me against his chest, keeping me here.
“Breathe,” he commands, voice raw.
I do. A ragged, painful inhale that fills my burning lungs with precious air. I cough, my throat raw, my chest tight, but I breathe.
His fingers tilt my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You don’t know how to swim?”
I shake my head weakly, still trying to process what just happened.
I could have drowned.
But he saved me.
“Why did you save me?” My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.
His eyes flicker with something unreadable—something fierce. His grip tightens around me, his chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.
“You could have let me drown,” I murmur, my voice hollow.
His expression darkens. His gaze drops—to my lips, to my throat, lower still, pausing just beneath the waterline where my soaked tank top clings to my skin.
When his eyes meet mine again, there’s no hatred.
There’s fear.
Before I can react, he shifts. His strong arms lift me effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries me through the pool. Water sluices off his skin, glistening under the dim lights.
I don’t fight him.
I don’t want to.
He lowers me onto the built-in ledge at the shallow end, the water lapping at my ribs. The cool night air brushes against my damp skin, sending a shiver through me.
His hand cups my cheek, his thumb tracing my jawline. His touch is gentle, contradicting everything I know about him.
“I’m okay now,” I whisper, though my voice betrays me.
His gaze drifts lower. My chest rises and falls rapidly, my skin flushed from the heat of the water.
“Are you?” he murmurs, his tone unreadable.
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
Because the way he’s looking at me—studying me like I’m something fragile, something his—makes my heart stutter.
I should pull away.
I should shove him back, remind him that I hate him, that I don’t want this.
But I don’t.
Because when he leans in, slow and deliberate, I realize I do want this.
To feel.
And Garret makes me feel. He makes me want to experience life another day.
His lips brush against mine—hesitant, waiting. Testing.
I don’t stop him.
Instead, I fist my fingers into his shoulders, silently granting him permission.
A low groan rumbles from his throat as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, claiming me with a slow, intoxicating rhythm. He tilts my head back, his hands tangling into my wet hair as he devours me, like he’s trying to drown me in something other than water.
His mouth trails lower—to my jaw, to the hollow of my throat, his breath hot against my damp skin.
“Tell me to stop,” he rasps against my collarbone.
I don’t.
I can’t.
Instead, I whisper breathlessly, “Don’t.”
His mouth crashes against mine again, hunger igniting between us like gasoline to an open flame.
My back arches into him, my body betraying every rational thought in my head. His lips move lower, his hands mapping my body beneath the water, like he’s discovering something forbidden, something he never planned to want.
I was breathless. His mouth devoured me—possessive, claiming, relentless. His tongue teased, his teeth grazed, and I could do nothing but surrender. There was nothing I wanted to think about except him.
He pressed against me, his body hard, unyielding. Heat radiated between us, searing through the thin barrier of fabric. Every deliberate roll of his hips sent a delicious shudder through me, and I arched into him, seeking more, needing more.
A groan rumbled from deep in his chest, primal and raw. His lips found my neck, and then—he bit me. The sharp pleasure sent a cry tumbling from my lips.
My fingers slid between us, wrapping instinctively around the rigid length of him. A bolt of heat shot through me, intoxicating and dangerous. And then he froze.
His breath hitched. His muscles trembled beneath my touch. His hands clenched at my waist like he was holding himself together by a thread.
“Run,” he rasped, voice hoarse and strained, like the single word cost him everything. His throat worked as he swallowed. “Rose…”
The sound of my name on his lips shattered something inside me. I let him go like I’d been burned, my fingers tingling from the loss.
My legs slid down his hips, the heat between us cooling with the weight of reality pressing down on me. My heart pounded in my chest, the truth slamming into me with brutal force.
If I let this happen, what then?
I would be exactly what he said I was.
I staggered back, my breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. His gaze stayed locked on mine, dark and unreadable, but the tension in his body told me everything.
I had to leave.