Chapter 30
Payson
It’s half past eleven and he still isn’t here.
I don’t know why I decided waiting up for him was a good idea.
Or even if staying here, with him, was the best decision.
The door finally clicks, and I sit straight up from the couch.
My pulse picks up as he steps inside, closing the door softly behind him.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me, but something feels off.
“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, barely above a whisper.
“Something like that,” I reply.
He nods once, sets down his keys, and shrugs off his jacket. “I’m going to shower,” he says, like I haven’t been lying here waiting for him. He doesn’t walk over to me, just walks past me, leaving the room feeling colder than it was before he walked in.
I sit there for a second or two, trying to convince myself that I am imagining it.
That maybe I just assumed we were both on the same page, pushing things past the breaking point and moving a whole hell of a lot faster than we should.
I stand, before I can overthink it and talk myself out of it and follow him.
The bathroom door is cracked, steam already filling up the room.
I don’t knock, just step silently inside.
He’s already under the water, back to me, muscles tense in a way I haven’t seen on him.
Not in these past few days anyway. I undress quickly, stepping in behind him.
He stills when he hears me. “Payson….” He drags my name out like he’s trying to fight something. Too little too late.
“You’re avoiding me,” I say, stating the obvious. He doesn’t answer me, though, and I can’t help but wonder why. I step up to him, wrapping my arms around his center, laying soft kisses on his back, as I guide my hands lower.
He turns, finally looking at me. His eyes are haunted, like he’s been hit with the most devastating news. “Bad idea,” he says sharply, and I smirk.
“Stop me then.” He doesn’t. He lets me run my hands along his body until I reach his cock, hard and waiting.
For a second I think he might actually stop me.
I begin pumping him, slowly at first but picking up my pace as his head falls back.
His breathing picks up the faster I pump, running the tip of my thumb over the head every so often.
“If you didn’t want me, then why did you ask me to stay? ” I whisper.
His jaw tightens and he looks me dead in the eye. “I didn’t ask,” he replies.
I tilt my head a little. “No,” I murmur.
“You gave me a choice, and I chose this.” Silence stretches between us.
“How is that not asking me to stay? Are you going to pretend none of this happened? That you didn’t just save my life?
” Anger sweeps over me as I stop what I’m doing, staring at him, daring him to deny it.
“You don’t understand what you’re stepping into,” he says sharply and a little pissed.
“Then explain it to me.”
“I’m trying to keep this from turning into something it shouldn’t become.” His words hit me with an edge that ignites the fire raging in me more.
“Something it shouldn’t?” I repeat. “Or something you can’t handle? Stop acting like this doesn’t matter,” I say.
“It doesn’t," he replies, and I can’t stop myself as I slap him hard across the face. The second it happens, everything goes still. He shoves me hard against the cold tile wall, his eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them, his words laced with a tone I’ve never heard him use before.
“You walked in here knowing exactly what you were doing,” he says quietly. I go to slap him again, but he catches my wrist before I can.
“You didn’t stop me.” His free hand glides along my body, exploring.
“No,” he admits before he devours my mouth.
His cock slams into me without warning, and I’m shoved up the wall, the tiles scratching against my back as he holds me still.
His thrusts are punishing, and his thumb presses against the bundle of nerves and it sends shockwaves of pleasure exploding from me.
He curses as he finishes right behind me and then gently sets me down on my feet.
He kisses my neck ever so softly before pulling out, and turning to wash, leaving me feeling cold and used.
My mind races as I watch him wash himself before turning back to me and doing the same. He's careful and precise, probably feeling bad about how rough he was with me. As if confirming my thoughts, he speaks. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he says finally, his voice low.
“It’s okay,” I reply. “It was nice.”
He chuckles, reaching for the soap without another word.
His movements are slow and gentle as he runs the sponge over my body, making sure every inch of me is covered with suds.
“None of this was supposed to happen,” he says, almost to himself.
I watch him as he continues to suds me up, trying to read the expression on his face the way he reads mine.
“And now?” I whisper.
His hands still for a split second before they leave my body.
His eyes find mine, and he pulls me to step under the water, rinsing away the soap.
“And now I can’t stop it.” He searches my eyes, forehead crinkling ever so slightly, as if he can’t read me for the first time.
“I don’t want it to,” he adds, kissing me gently.
I smile softly at him, reminiscing in his honesty, because it’s not something he would say unless it truly did matter.
He holds me closer to him. “I’m feeling things I shouldn’t,” he admits. I chuckle at the feeling of his cock already semi-hard again, as it presses against my stomach. “I’m serious. Things I’ve never…” He stops himself.
“You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, too,” I admit as well.
He reaches for a towel, stepping out first and wrapping it around his waist before grabbing another wrapping it around me.
This moment feels personal. Real. Intimate in a way that’s different than sex.
I’ve never seen him like this. When he is done drying me off, he doesn’t step away.
Instead, he drops the towel to the floor and lifts me like it’s effortless and I weigh nothing.
He carries me into the bedroom without a word, setting me down on the bed and kissing me with a passion that consumes my very soul.