Chapter 23
23
Cecely
The walk to the beach is silent but charged.
Each step on the sand, each brush of his fingers against mine, each lingering glance… it all builds.
By the time we reach the secluded spot Claudius has set up, I feel like I’m walking a tightrope of hormones that are about to spill over.
A blanket is spread out beneath the shade of a tall palm tree, a basket beside it. The view is breathtaking. Crystal-blue water stretching endlessly under a golden sky.
But I can’t focus on any of it.
Not when he looks like that.
Claudius drops the basket and sinks onto the blanket, stretching out, one arm draping lazily over his knee.
His board shorts ride lower when he leans back slightly, muscles shifting under tanned skin.
I swallow. Damn it.
Focus.
I settle beside him, pretending not to notice the way his eyes trail down my legs.
He pulls out a bottle of wine, two glasses, a small assortment of fruits and cheeses. It’s casual but deliberate.
Everything with Claudius is.
“This is nice.” My voice comes out a little too breathless.
His smirk is slow, teasing. “Told you I’d make it worth your time.”
I roll my eyes, reaching for a piece of pineapple, taking my time biting into it.
His gaze dips to my lips.
He doesn’t even try to hide it.
The tension tightens to something thick and humming between us.
I chew, swallow, then offer him a piece, holding it just far enough away that he has to lean in.
He does.
But instead of taking it with his hand, his lips brush my fingers as he bites down.
A flicker of heat shoots through me.
I exhale slowly.
He chews, watching me with knowing amusement. “Something wrong?”
“Not at all.”
We go back and forth like that. Small gestures, unspoken dares, every movement deliberate.
A game neither of us is willing to lose.
The problem?
The tension isn’t breaking.
It’s tightening. Curling. Pulling us in.
And eventually, one of us is going to snap. The question is, who will be first?
The game continues. The space between us shrinks, each movement deliberate. A test. A tease.
Claudius leans back on one arm, watching me with a smirk that says he knows exactly what I’m doing.
But he doesn’t stop me.
He never does.
I pick up another piece of fruit, twirling it between my fingers. A strawberry this time. Slowly, I bite into it, just enough to let the juice linger on my lips.
His eyes darken, flicking down, then back up. He still doesn’t move. Still waiting. Letting me make the next move.
Fine.
I lean in slightly, just enough for our knees to brush. Just enough to make it look accidental.
“You’re quiet.” My voice is smooth. Completely unlike the way my pulse is racing.
His lips twitch, his fingers tapping lazily against the glass of wine in his hand. For a moment, I wonder if he’s noticed that I haven’t taken a sip of mine.
He says, “I’m enjoying the view.”
My breath catches, but I don’t let it show.
I tilt my head, pretending to consider my next words. “And here I thought you brought me out here for the company.”
His smirk is slow. “Oh, I did.”
Challenge accepted.
I reach for another strawberry but this time, I don’t eat it. I hold it out to him, just like before. Waiting. Daring.
He watches me for a long second. Then, instead of taking the fruit, he leans in, slowly, until his lips part around my fingers, his mouth closing over the strawberry and just barely grazing my skin.
Holy. Hell.
Heat flares down my spine, tightening low in my stomach.
He pulls back, chewing slowly, eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable. Controlled. Measured.
Still playing.
Still refusing to break first.
Fine.
I shift, adjusting my position just enough that the movement forces my thigh against his.
His jaw tightens.
Barely noticeable.
But I see it.
I feel the way his body goes rigid for half a second.
He felt that.
A small, satisfied smirk pulls at my lips. “Something wrong, Claudius?”
His hand moves, catching my wrist before I can pull away.
“Keep testing me, Cecely.” His voice is lower now, rougher. “See what happens.”
My pulse skips. I don’t move. Neither does he. But something in his eyes changes. Like he’s done playing. Like I just won the game.
And the prize is him. Snapping.
Heat flares beneath my skin, spreading everywhere at once. But I don’t look away and I don’t back down.
His jaw tenses. His control wavers just for a second. Then he moves. Fast. Before I can react, I’m on my back, sinking into the blanket, the warmth of the sand underneath me.
Claudius hovers above me, his hands braced on either side of my head, his knee wedged dangerously between mine.
His breath fans over my skin, his body heat pressing into me.
My stomach flips. Because this is new.
This isn’t the teasing, measured Claudius. This is the man who’s been holding back. And he’s done waiting.
“You like pushing me, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice so deep that I nearly shudder.
I swallow. “Maybe.”
His lips curl into a slow smirk. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”
His mouth captures mine, rough and consuming, stealing the air from my lungs.
I melt. I forget the game. Forget the teasing. Forget everything but him.
His hand slides up my thigh, fingers pressing just hard enough to make me ache. I gasp, and he swallows the sound, deepening the kiss, his body pressing me into the soft warmth beneath us. There’s no more distance. No more hesitation.
Only heat. Need. Hunger. Only him.
He hovers above me, his breath heavy, uneven, his restraint finally gone.
“You wanted to play, Cecely?” His voice is a growl against my lips, taunting me. “Then let’s play.”
His hips press into mine, his body a solid weight, a perfect trap. I gasp, my nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, because the ache building inside me is too much.
“You feel that?” he murmurs, rolling his hips again, sending a sharp, delicious pulse through me.
I nod, biting my lip, already trembling beneath him.
“Say it.”
His fingers skate under the hem of my shorts, teasing, pushing, exploring.
“I feel it,” I breathe, arching against him.
His chuckle is dark, filled with satisfaction.
“Good.”
Then he stops teasing.
His hands make quick work of what little clothing is left between us, the warm night air a whisper against my newly exposed skin. He takes his time, his gaze drinking me in, his touch firm, unrelenting. By the time he positions himself between my thighs, my breath is coming too fast, my body already on fire.
And then he pushes inside.
I shatter.
A gasp, a sharp intake of breath, a broken sound as he fills me, stretching me, making me feel every inch of him. Claudius curses under his breath, his hands gripping my hips so tight I swear I’ll have bruises. And I don’t care. I want the marks. I want the reminders.
Because in this moment, nothing else exists. No past, no future. Just this. Just him.
“Fuck. You feel so good,” he breathes.
His movements are slow at first, teasing, deliberate. Making me feel the weight of every thrust, every shift, every pulse of heat between us. And then he loses control. His pace quickens, his body moving against mine in a way that is undeniable, relentless, completely consuming.
“That’s it. Take my cock. Show me how much you want it.”
I dig my fingers into his shoulders, my head tilting back as I let myself drown in him.
Heat coils low in my stomach, building, curling, tightening.
“Claudius,” I moan.
And then we break together.
I feel like I leave my body, pleasure going on and on. When I finally come down from the high he just gave me, he brushes his lips against mine. Our breaths are ragged, our bodies still tangled, neither of us willing to move just yet. The heat between us lingers, the waves crashing in the distance the only sound breaking the silence.
Claudius shifts, his weight still pressing into me, but now it feels different. Not just possessive. But protective. Like he’s grounding me. Keeping me here.
I expect him to pull away. To retreat into himself, back into the cold, calculated man I know. But he doesn’t.
Instead, he stays.
He presses a slow, lingering kiss to my temple, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my hip.
His breathing evens out, but his muscles are still tense, like he’s fighting something inside himself. I run my hand down his back, feeling the shift of muscle beneath my touch. He exhales, his forehead coming to rest against mine. For a long moment, neither of us speak.
His voice is low and gruff when he says, “I don’t want to leave.”
I blink, surprised at the admission.
“Then don’t.”
He gives a quiet, almost bitter chuckle. “If only it were that easy.”
Something tightens in my chest. I don’t know what to say. So I don’t. Instead, I pull him closer, holding him like I’m afraid to let go. And to my surprise, he lets me.
We lie there, joined together, until he gets hard again. I shift beneath him, rolling my hips just enough to feel his hardness inside of me. Claudius’ breath catches, his fingers tightening on my hip as a low, deep groan rumbles in his chest.
“You’re insatiable,” he murmurs, voice thick and rough.
I smirk. “Takes one to know one.”
His eyes glint, sharp and knowing, like he’s considering all the ways he can prove me right.
I bite my lip. “You know, when you told me I could bring my swimsuit or leave it, I thought we’d end up skinny dipping.”
His gaze darkens. “That can be arranged.”
Before I can respond, he moves. One second, he’s hovering over me, heat radiating between us. The next? He’s lifting me. I yelp as he stands, carrying me effortlessly toward the water, my legs wrapped around his waist.
“Claudius—”
But he doesn’t give me time to protest.
He steps into the cool surf, waves lapping at his calves, then his thighs, then higher until the warm night air is replaced by the delicious chill of the ocean.
I shudder, clutching onto him tighter.
He smirks. “Cold?”
I glare. “You’re evil.”
He laughs, and damn it, it’s a beautiful sound.
“You have no idea.”
Then, in one swift motion, he drops us both beneath the surface. The water surrounds us, cool and refreshing, but it does nothing to dull the heat burning between us.
Claudius emerges first, droplets of sliding down his bald head. Down his face. To the hard planes of his chest.
I barely have a second to catch my breath before he’s on me again. His hands find my waist, pulling me against him, my legs wrapping around his hips. The ocean rocks us gently, but his grip is firm and possessive, as if even the ocean couldn’t tear us apart.
I shudder as his lips find my neck, his breath hot against my damp skin.
“Still think I’m evil?” he murmurs against my throat.
I can’t answer. Not when his hands are roaming, teasing, gripping. Not when I can feel all of him pressing into me beneath the water. I dig my nails into his shoulders, rocking against him just enough to make him curse under his breath.
“You’re playing with fire,” he growls, his voice full of warning.
“Then burn me.”
That’s all it takes.
His mouth crashes against mine, the kiss deep, consuming, utterly wrecking. The waves lap at our skin, but I barely notice when his hands slide down, gripping my thighs, lifting me just enough?—
And then he fills me, stretching me, claiming me all over again. I gasp, my head falling back, the stars above us blurring as he moves. His grip is firm, relentless, his mouth never straying far from my skin.
I never stood a chance.
Each roll of his hips drags me deeper, wrecks me further, pulls me toward a pleasure so intense I feel like I might shatter.
We don’t rush.
We take our time, letting the tension coil and tighten, letting the need build until I’m grasping at him, trembling, begging.
And when we finally fall over the edge together, it’s not just pleasure.
It’s something more. Something dangerous. Something that feels a hell of a lot like surrender. Maybe even love.
The waves lap at our skin, gentle and rhythmic, as we catch our breath together. I feel weightless, boneless, completely undone. And for once, I don’t mind it. Claudius still holds me, his arms strong and steady, his grip firm but not demanding. For a man who always seems in control, always calculating his next move, right now, he just… is.
And neither of us rush to change that.
I let my head rest against his shoulder, my fingers tracing slow, idle patterns along his damp skin. His breathing is even now, but his heartbeat beneath my palm isn’t. Mine isn’t either.
This is different. Not just the fire between us. Not just the desperation, the hunger, the absolute loss of restraint. This feels deeper. Heavier. Like something shifted. Like something we can’t take back.
Claudius exhales, his fingers grazing the small of my back, slow and deliberate.
“You okay?” His voice is lower, softer than I’ve ever heard it.
I nod, but don’t pull away. Neither does he. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable. It’s full, like we’re both standing at the edge of something bigger. Something neither of us is ready to name.
Finally, I break the silence. “That was…” I trail off, struggling for the right words.
His grip tightens slightly. “Yeah.” His voice dips even lower. “I don’t do this, Cecely.”
I lift my head, my gaze meeting his. “Do what?”
His jaw tenses, his expression unreadable. “This.” His fingers tighten at my waist. “Stay after. Hold on.”
My chest tightens. Because I know what he’s saying, even if he doesn’t say it. This isn’t just sex. This is something more. And that? That terrifies him. Maybe it terrifies me too.
I swallow, my fingers grazing his cheek before I can think better of it. “Well… maybe you should.”
His eyes darken, but not with lust. With something deeper, something unreadable. For a moment, I think he’s going to pull away. But his hand slides into my hair, tangling at the base of my neck, his grip firm but gentle.
“Careful, Cecely.” His voice is almost a whisper now, but the warning is clear. “You’re making it hard for me to let you go.”
The words settle deep inside me, wrapping around something I didn’t even realize I’d been guarding.
“Maybe I don’t want you to let me go,” I whisper back.
His lips brush against mine, and he kisses me. It feels like a promise. Like we’re both in this together.
Then the moment shatters. A sharp ring pierces the quiet night air. Claudius’ phone.
His entire body stiffens. I feel the shift in an instant. Reality is demanding his attention, and he’s not going to ignore it. With a muttered curse, he untangles from me, his arms slipping away, leaving behind an uncomfortable coolness where his heat used to be.
I watch as he strides out of the water, muscles tense, water dripping off his skin as he grabs his phone from the pile of clothes on the sand.
The moment he sees the screen, his expression hardens.
The man who held me just seconds ago…the one who kissed me like I was something he couldn’t bear to lose? Gone. Replaced by Claudius Irons, the man who rules his world with ruthless precision.
He answers, his voice low, clipped. “This is Irons.”
His jaw clenches. His fingers tighten around the phone, like he wants to crush it. Something is wrong.
I push up out of the water, my pulse ticking up. “Claudius?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns away from me, his shoulders rigid, like he’s trying to lock something away.
I watch as he grabs his shorts, sliding them on with precision, every movement controlled. Like he’s forcing himself to shut down. Like he’s forcing himself to forget.
I step onto the shore, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat still lingering on my skin.
My heartbeat pounds. “Claudius, what is it?”
He doesn’t answer at first.
Instead, he finishes adjusting his clothes, his back still to me.
Then he finally turns. His face is carefully blank. A mask. A barrier. A fucking wall.
“I have to go.”
Four words. But they feel like a door slamming shut between us. A chill crawls up my spine. Because I know what this means. Whatever just happened between us. Whatever shift, whatever crack had formed in his armor… he’s sealing it back up. And I can’t stop him.
I open my mouth, but before I can speak, he hands me my discarded clothing. No tenderness. No teasing remark. Not even a freaking towel. Just… efficiency. Like this… like we never happened. I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the fabric as I slide my clothes back on.
Claudius, meanwhile, moves like a man on a mission. Packing up the picnic. Collecting the wine glasses. Making sure there’s no trace of the night we just shared.
A part of me wants to push. To demand answers. To ask why the hell he keeps running away from me. But instead, I stay silent.
“Ready?”
I dip my head, and he takes off, leading the way.
And somehow, that hurts more than any rejection ever could.