Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Linnea
Ican't stop thinking about Thorne. I know Sir’s name now, but it’s still the only one I have.
I remember his hands on my skin, the ecstasy he brought me… and the pain. Even as I sit at my mother's bedside, watching her fitful sleep after the trauma we’ve both been through, my mind keeps drifting back to Thorne's apartment and everything that happened there.
Three days left on our contract. Three more days of being at his beck and call, of submitting to his every whim.
But even as he reminded me of that, he told me I didn't need to come back. What does that mean? It’s all so confusing.
And it’s not like I have anything to lose.
He’s already paid me. A quick check of my banking app showed more money in my account than I’ve ever seen in my life.
Enough to finance the mortgage. Enough to get our lives back on track.
Especially if they really do change the verdict on my father’s death so his life insurance pays out.
That will see our debts paid in full, with some left over, and then we’ll be free from the mob.
Although I’m not so certain anymore that the guy, Lex, is actually the mob.
And even if that doesn’t happen, I can afford to repay Lex with what I’ve earned from Primal Fantasies and still reduce the mortgage to a manageable level.
So why am I still itching to return? To see him.
I try to shake off the conflicting emotions, but they cling to me like cobwebs.
Gratitude wars with suspicion. Relief tangles with a strange, burning curiosity.
Thorne has done more for us than I ever expected, including sending a doctor to the house to check on me and Mom.
So yeah, way more than he needed to. I mean, he didn’t need to do anything at all.
So why? Why did he endanger himself by coming here and confronting Reggie? How did he find me? And how the hell does he know Lex? All I have are questions I don’t know the answers to.
Three days… is that an invitation?
I bite my lip, glancing at my mother's sleeping form. The steady rise and fall of her chest is comforting, but it doesn't quell the restlessness inside me.
The rational part of my brain screams at me to stay put, to be grateful for what I've already received and not push my luck.
But there's another part, a part I'm almost ashamed to acknowledge, that craves more.
More of his touch, his commands, the intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure only he seems able to provide.
I stand up, pacing the small confines of the bedroom. My body feels like a live wire, crackling with pent-up energy and unanswered questions. I want to understand him, to unravel the mystery of the man who is Thorne and work out how he fits into the chaotic puzzle of my life.
If I had his number or an email address, I’d be tempted to message and ask... what? I'm not even sure.
But I don’t. I don’t have any way to contact him. I just know where he lives.
With a frustrated sigh, I grab my phone and house keys. I can't just sit here, trapped in this endless loop of questions and what-ifs. Maybe a walk will clear my head.
"I'll be back soon, Mom," I tell her, even though she can't hear me since the doctor gave her a sedative and said she’d sleep until morning.
The cool night air hits my face as I step outside, and I pause, searching the night sky as I try to calm my racing thoughts. My feet start moving of their own accord, and before I know it, I'm heading to the bus stop.
I shouldn't be doing this. I should stay home, take care of Mom, be responsible. But the pull is too strong to resist. I need answers, and there's only one place I can get them.
As I board the bus, my heart hammers like it's trying to punch its way out of my body. Am I really going back to the penthouse? What if he's not there? What if he is? I'm not even sure which scenario terrifies me more.
The city lights blur past the window as we drive, and I try to steel myself for whatever comes next. I don't know what I'm walking into, but I know I can't turn back now. I need to see him, to understand why he’s done what he did. To understand the tangled emotions that reside within me.
The bus lurches to a stop, jolting me from my thoughts. I look up and realize I'm only a block away from Thorne's building. My heart races as I step off onto the sidewalk.
My legs feel shaky as I walk the final stretch.
The doorman gives me a curious look as I approach.
Damn, it’s stupid late, I realize. What was I thinking?
People don’t visit at this time of night.
It’s not George; he works the day shift, and I never left the apartment at night to be familiar with this guy, but he lets me in without question when I give him my name.
In the elevator, I stare at my reflection in the mirrored walls. I look a mess - hair disheveled, dark circles under my eyes. What am I even doing here?
But before I can change my mind, the doors slide open with a soft ding, and I hesitate for a moment before I step out into the hallway.
Then, far too soon, I’m standing in front of his door, hand raised to knock. This is my last chance to walk away. To go home and pretend none of this ever happened.
But I don't. I suck it up and rap my knuckles against the smooth wood.
There's a long pause after I knock. My heart pounds as I strain to hear any sound from inside. Just as I'm about to give up and slink away in embarrassment, the door swings open.
Thorne stands there, looking slightly rumpled but still impossibly handsome. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees me.
"Linnea! You came." His deep voice causes a shiver down my spine.
I open my mouth to explain, but the words catch in my throat. Now that I'm here, face to face with him, I'm not sure what to say. How do I explain this inexplicable pull I feel towards him?
"I... I needed to see you," I somehow manage to stammer out.
He studies me for a long moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then, without a word, he steps aside and gestures for me to enter.
I hesitate for a split second before stepping over the threshold. The familiar scent of his home - a heady blend of leather and something distinctly masculine - envelops me. It feels both comforting and dangerous, like coming home to a tiger's den.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late,” I say awkwardly, wiping my sweaty palms down my thighs as I cast around for something to say.
“Linnea…” Thorne growls.
“Thorne…” It occurs to me, even after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve shared, this is the first time we’ve used each other’s names. How nuts is that?
Then, there’s no more room for thoughts, because Thorne is pulling me into his arms, his mouth crashing down on mine. The kiss is hungry, desperate, as if he's been waiting for this moment as much as I have. I melt against him, my fingers clutching at his shirt as I absorb the taste of him.
When we break apart, both breathless, I look up into his clear blue eyes.
Why did I ever think they were cold? There's a storm of emotions swirling in their depths - desire, certainly, but also something else.
Confusion? Uncertainty? It's strange to see such vulnerability on his usually composed face.
"Why did you come back?" he asks, his voice husky. His hands still on my waist, holding me close.
"I- I..." I stutter, trying to find the right words. "I don't know, exactly. I needed to see you. I couldn't stay away…"
That seems to be a good enough answer, because he sweeps me into his arms, bridal style and marches down the hall to the bedroom.
“Last chance to say you don’t want this, Linnea.”
"I want this," I tell him, because it’s true. "I want you." Whatever happens between us after this, there’s no way I can deny him.
Thorne's eyes darken with desire as he sets me down next to the bed, his hands lingering on my waist. There's a tenderness in his caress I've never felt before, so different from our previous encounters.
"Are you sure?" he asks, searching my face.
I nod, unable to find my voice. My body tingles where his fingers brush against it.
Slowly, reverently, Thorne begins to undress me. His movements are unhurried, almost worshipful. Each newly exposed inch of skin is met with a soft kiss or caress. It's nothing like the frenzied, demanding, and often painful experiences I've endured in the past. This feels... special.
When I'm finally bare, Thorne steps back, staring, his eyes so intense I feel myself blushing, even though he’s already been intimately acquainted with every inch of my body.
"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, and for once, I believe him without question.
I reach for him, tugging at his shirt. "You're overdressed." The atmosphere encourages me to do and say things I never would have dared to before.
Thorne smiles softly and allows me to undress him. I run my hands over his muscular frame, marveling at the warmth of his skin. When we're both naked, he pulls me close, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
His lips find mine again, but this time the kiss is slow, deep, and achingly tender. I feel myself melting into him, all my doubts and fears dissolving in the heat between us. His fingers roam my body, but there's no urgency in his actions - just a gentle exploration.
He picks me up and lays me on the bed. No demands, no orders. Then he kneels over me, his eyes alight with something unexpected and beautiful. Something I’m scared to define in case I’m wrong.
His hands settle on either side of my face.
“Linnea,” he says, and it spills from his lips like prayer, not command.
The sound is so raw, so unguarded, I feel a knot in my chest loosen and unravel.
Gone is the calculated, cold-eyed predator; in his place is a man stripped of armor and trembling with want.