Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
MALIK
S leep doesn't come. I lie on the couch, staring at the ceiling, every creak of the cabin amplified in the darkness. My body is exhausted, but my mind races, replaying that moment in the kitchen when I almost crossed a line I swore I wouldn't cross.
Melody Washington. Twenty-six years old. My daughter's best friend. Running from a man who hurt her.
The way I want her consumes me in a way that terrifies me.
"Get your shit together, Harris," I mutter into the darkness.
The security system pings on my phone. Movement on the perimeter cameras. I'm on my feet instantly, checking the feed. Just a deer passing through the yard, its eyes reflecting the infrared light.
I exhale slowly, forcing my shoulders to relax. This hypervigilance isn't just about security. It's about keeping myself occupied, focused on anything except the woman sleeping in my bed down the hall.
My phone buzzes with a text from Jake.
Jake: Confirmed PI is Marcus Wells. Former cop. Works exclusively for high-profile clients. Known for being thorough but not dangerous.
I type back.
Me: Thanks. Can we k eep eyes on him? I want to know if he makes contact with anyone.
Dropping my phone on the coffee table, I move to the window, scanning the tree line surrounding the cabin. The moon casts silver light across the clearing, creating shadows that dance with each breeze. This place has always been my sanctuary, away from town, from people, from complications.
Now it feels like a trap, with Melody just a few thin walls away.
The memory of her standing in my kitchen, challenging me, unafraid despite everything she's been through, makes something primal stir in my chest. The way she looked at me when I told her about Club Crimson, curious rather than repulsed.
The questions she asked that revealed interests she's never explored.
"Bad idea," I remind myself, pressing my forehead against the cool glass.
A door opens down the hall, followed by soft footsteps padding across hardwood.
My body tenses as Melody appears in the doorway, a vision in the oversized t-shirt I left for her to sleep in.
It falls to mid-thigh, revealing long legs and curves that the modest clothes she wore earlier had only hinted at.
"Can't sleep?" she asks, her voice soft in the darkness.
"Occupational hazard," I reply, turning to face her fully. "Everything okay?"
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. "Just restless. Is there any tea?"
"Cabinet next to the sink." I stay rooted to my spot by the window, maintaining distance. "Kettle on the stove."
She moves to the kitchen, and I force myself to remain by the window, watching her silhouette as she fills the kettle and searches for mugs.
"What made you choose security work?" she asks suddenly, breaking the silence as she waits for the water to heat.
The question catches me off guard. "Military background. Seemed like a natural transition when I left the service."
"Sage mentioned you were in the military." She leans against the counter, studying me across the darkened room. "Special forces?"
I nod once. "How'd you guess?"
"The way you move. The way you assess situations." She shrugs. "My uncle was Army Rangers. You have the same alertness."
The kettle begins to whistle, and she turns to silence it. I move toward the kitchen, drawn to her despite my better judgment.
"Two sugars, right?" she asks, surprising me again.
"How did you know that?"
A small smile plays at her lips as she drops sugar into one of the mugs. "I pay attention. At Bean & Bloom this morning, you added exactly two to your coffee."
"Observant," I comment, accepting the mug she offers. Our fingers brush, and that same electric current passes between us.
"Teachers have to be." She blows gently on her tea. "There are twenty-five teenagers in a classroom, all with their own dramas and dynamics. Miss one detail and chaos erupts."
I lean against the counter opposite her. "Is that why you became a teacher? You like observing people?"
"I like helping them discover themselves." Her expression softens, passion evident. "Literature is the perfect vehicle for that. You can discuss love, death, ambition, betrayal, all through the safety of fictional characters."
"Sounds like you've found your calling."
She looks down at her mug. "I hope so. After everything with Jason, I questioned my judgment about a lot of things. But never teaching. That's the one thing I've always been sure of."
The mention of her ex reminds me of why she's here, the danger potentially following her. But it also reveals something she might not realize she's sharing. "You put others first. Give them space to explore safely while keeping yourself contained."
Her eyes snap up to mine, startled. "What do you mean?"
"You create safe spaces for your students, but who creates that space for you?" I take a sip of tea, watching her over the rim of my mug. "Who gives Melody permission to explore?"
A dark flush spreads across her cheeks, visible even in the dim light. "That's not... I don't..."
"It's not a criticism," I say gently. "Just an observation."
She sets her mug down with a soft clink. "What about you? Who gives the protector permission to be vulnerable?"
I swallow a smile. "Touché."
"We're not so different, are we?" She takes a step toward me. "Both creating safe spaces for others. Both keeping parts of ourselves locked away."
I set my own mug down, suddenly aware of how close we've drifted toward each other. "The difference is, I've had decades to learn my boundaries. To understand what I want."
"And what do you want, Malik?" Her voice drops lower, sending heat through my veins.
"Things I shouldn't." The honesty slips out before I can stop it.
Melody takes another step, now close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her body. "What if I want those things too?"
"Then we're both fucked." My voice roughens.
She reaches out, her fingers brushing my forearm, tracing the lines of muscle there. "I've spent the last year being afraid. Doubting myself. Second-guessing every decision." Her eyes lift to meet mine. "But being here, with you... I'm not afraid."
"You should be." I don't move away from her touch, though every instinct screams that I should. "I'm not a safe choice, Melody."
"Safe choices haven't worked out so well for me." Her fingers slide up my arm to my shoulder. "Maybe it's time I tried something different."
I catch her wrist, halting her exploration. "If you keep touching me like that, there's no going back."
Instead of retreating, she steps closer, until our bodies nearly touch. "What if I don't want to go back?"
"Melody." Her name is both a warning and a prayer on my lips.
"Stop overthinking this." She rises on her toes, bringing her face closer to mine. "For once in your life, just feel."
My control fractures. I release her wrist to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as I pull her toward me. Our lips meet with none of the hesitation I should be feeling, only hunger that's been building since I first saw her in Bean & Bloom.
Melody melts against me, her body soft and yielding as her mouth opens beneath mine. I taste chamomile and something sweeter. My free arm wraps around her waist, pulling her flush against me as the kiss deepens.
She makes a small sound in her throat, half surprise and half pleasure, that sends heat spiraling through me. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, then slide up to the back of my neck, holding me to her as if afraid I might pull away.
I won't. Not yet. Not when she fits against me like she was made for my arms.
The kiss turns demanding, my dominant nature taking control. I walk her backward until she hits the counter, then lift her onto it in one fluid motion. Her legs part instinctively, allowing me to step between them, bringing us impossibly closer.
"Yes," she breathes against my mouth, and my name has never sounded so good.
I trail kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. She arches into me, head falling back to grant better access. The trust in that simple gesture nearly undoes me.
"Wait." The word comes out rougher than intended. I pull back slightly, trying to gather thoughts scattered by desire. "There are things you need to understand before we go further."
Her eyes flutter open, confusion and arousal warring in their depths. "What things?"
I step back, creating space we both need. "About me. About what I expect. About how I... care for someone." The words feel inadequate for the intensity of what I'm trying to convey.
"You mean your dominance." Her directness catches me off guard again. "Dr. Maya explained the basics today. Consent, negotiation, power exchange."
"It's more than basics with me." I lean against the opposite counter, maintaining distance while I find the right words. "When I commit to someone, it's complete. I don't do casual, Melody. If we do this, you're mine. And I need to know you understand what that means."
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, a gesture I'm learning means she's gathering courage. "Can I tell you something? Something I haven't told anyone?"
"Anything."
Her gaze drops to her hands. "Jason and I... we never actually had sex."
The admission hangs in the air between us. I process her words carefully, understanding dawning. "You're a virgin."
She nods, cheeks flushing. "I know it's weird at my age. Everyone assumes because we were together for a year, but I just... I couldn't. Every time he pushed for it, something inside me screamed to wait."
I move toward her slowly, giving her space to retreat if she needs it. "Why didn't you mention this before?"
"Because I was embarrassed?" She looks up, vulnerability naked on her face. "Because I thought maybe there was something wrong with me for not wanting him that way. He certainly told me there was."
Anger flares hot and immediate. "There's nothing wrong with you."