Chapter 19
Sadie
Igasp when the hotel doors open to the penthouse suite. It's like walking into a dream, floor-to-ceiling windows revealing Denver's skyline, plush furniture in rich jewel tones, and a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
"Axel," I breathe, taking in the enormous king bed with its mountain of pillows, the separate sitting area with a couch that probably costs more than all my furniture combined.
"This is… this must have cost—"
"Don't," he says firmly, setting our bags down and coming to stand in front of me. His hands cup my face gently.
"Don't worry about the cost. Don't think about money or budgets or practicality. Not tonight."
"But—"
"You deserve this, Sadie." His eyes hold mine, serious and intent. "You deserve one night where you're not counting pennies or worrying about tomorrow. Just let me give you this."
My breath shudders out, shoulders sinking as his words work through me.
His hands are still on my face, anchoring me, making it impossible to disappear the way I always do.
When did anyone last look at me like it was a privilege?
When did I let myself want to be spoiled, to be wanted, just because I exist?
Never. Not like this, not with him watching me, heat rising under my skin, need buzzing in my veins.
"Okay," I whisper, letting myself accept it, this gift, this moment, this feeling of being treasured.
He smiles, dropping a quick kiss on my lips before moving to open the champagne. The cork pops with a satisfying sound, and he pours two glasses, handing one to me.
"To one night away from everything," he says, clinking his glass against mine.
I take a sip, the bubbles dancing on my tongue. It's good, really good, the kind of champagne I've never bothered to learn about because it's so far outside my budget.
While Axel unpacks a few things, I wander to the windows, drawn by the view. Denver sprawls below us, and beyond the city, the Rocky Mountains rise in the distance, their peaks already dusted with early snow. The sun is setting, painting everything in gold and pink.
I've lived in Colorado for over a year, but I've been so focused on survival, on staying hidden, that I've barely noticed the beauty surrounding me. I press my palm against the cool glass, suddenly overwhelmed by how small I feel, and how free.
For one night, no one knows where I am. No one is counting on me. No one is watching me. I could be anyone.
I sense Axel before I feel him, the subtle shift in the air, the faint scent of his cologne. Then his hands are on my waist, sliding around to my stomach, pulling me back against his chest. His lips find the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, and I shiver.
"What are you thinking?" he murmurs against my skin.
"That I can't remember the last time I felt this… untethered." I lean back into him, allowing myself to enjoy the solid warmth of his body. "Like I could float away if you weren't holding me."
His arms tighten around me. "I've got you."
I turn in his embrace, setting my champagne glass on a nearby table. My arms loop around his neck as I look up into his face, those warm eyes, that mouth that seems to always hover on the edge of a smile. He's beautiful in the fading light, his features cast in gold and shadow.
"Thank you," I say, meaning it more than he could possibly understand. "For bringing me here. For giving me this."
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my cheek.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to do this for you. To see you somewhere beautiful, away from everything weighing you down."
I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him, soft and sweet. When I pull back, his gaze drags down to my mouth and lingers there, his breathing rougher, his hands more possessive on my waist.
"I made dinner reservations," he says, voice rough. "There's this restaurant on the sixteenth floor. Amazing views, better food."
"Sounds perfect." I glance at my travel-rumpled clothes and wind-blown hair. "I should probably clean up first, though."
His gaze drops to my mouth, then lower, taking in every inch of me with such naked appreciation that heat licks up my throat, flooding my neck and face until I’m sure he can see me go pink under his stare.
"Let me help you with that."
The words send a thrill through me, part anticipation, part nervousness. I've never been good at this part, at being desired, at letting someone see me vulnerable. But with Axel, I want to try.
"I'd like that," I say softly.
His smile turns predatory as he backs me toward the enormous bathroom but all I feel is the heat of his body, the rough scrape of his knuckles riding up under my shirt.
“We have an hour before dinner.” His voice is low, pure command.
“Plenty of time to strip you down, get you wet, watch you come apart for me.” My pulse stutters, knees threatening to give, every nerve alive and waiting for his touch.
I feel his eyes on me as I step out of the shower, the warm steam curling around us in the luxurious bathroom.
There's something different about Axel tonight, a possessiveness in his gaze that makes my skin tingle.
When he wraps the plush hotel towel around me, his hands linger at my waist a beat too long.
"We're going to be late for dinner," I murmur, but I don't move away.
"Worth it," he says, dropping a kiss on my shoulder before reluctantly stepping back. "But I've been thinking about the rib eye all day, so maybe we should hurry."
I slip into my dress with trembling fingers, keenly aware of Axel’s gaze tracing every inch of exposed skin.
The soft drag of fabric, the heat in his eyes—it’s anything but comfortable.
It’s new, electric, fraught with the promise of everything still unsaid.
He buttons his shirt slowly, watching me in the mirror, and I feel naked beneath his attention, desperate for him to touch me again.
"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious. "Is it too much?"
"It's perfect," he says, his voice rough. "You're perfect."
I roll my eyes to hide how much his words affect me. "Hardly."
He crosses the room and turns me toward the mirror, standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. "Look at yourself, Sadie. Really look."
I meet my reflection's eyes reluctantly. I look different somehow, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair falling in soft waves around my face. Less guarded. Almost pretty.
“Look at yourself,” he murmurs, voice gravel deep. “You belong to me tonight. Every inch.”
My throat closes, a hot flush moving through me, low and deep.
I want to look away but I can’t. Every cell in my body lights up at the way he says mine.
I’ve spent years building walls, surviving for Poppy, but right now, I want to be just a woman in a man’s hands.
The idea of being his, even briefly, is terrifying.
It’s also everything I’ve secretly craved.
The restaurant is even more spectacular than Axel described. The city glitters around us and the mountains stand dark against the sky. The host leads us to a corner table with panoramic views, and Axel's hand settles at the small of my back as we walk.
"Wine?" he asks once we're seated, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand where it rests on the table.
"Please.”
Axel orders a bottle of something expensive-sounding, his easy confidence with the wine list making me smile. He's in his element here, comfortable in this upscale setting in a way I'm not. But instead of making me feel out of place, his confidence makes me feel confident.
"What?" he asks, catching my smile.
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "I just like watching you."
His gaze pins to my mouth, his jaw going still like he’s holding back a smile, or something a lot more dangerous.
"Careful," he murmurs, leaning closer. "I might not make it through dinner if you keep looking at me like that."
The waiter returns with our wine, and Axel takes charge of the tasting ritual with practiced ease. When our glasses are filled, he raises his in a toast.
"To new beginnings," he says, his eyes never leaving mine.
The wine is rich and complex, warming me from the inside out. Or maybe that's just Axel's gaze, steady and heated across the table.
He touches me, over and over, as if staking his claim in front of the entire city.
Fingers sliding against mine, his palm heavy and hot on my knee, thumb grazing the sensitive skin of my wrist. Each touch is subtle, but I feel them everywhere—my skin tightens, breath quickens, every point of contact sparking between my thighs.
He wants me, even when he pretends it’s casual.
I want more, want his hands everywhere, want him to forget the restaurant and drag me back to the suite.
"Try this," he says, offering me a bite of his steak from his fork.
I lean forward, accepting the morsel, and his eyes track the movement of my lips. It's the most erotic thing I've ever experienced, being fed by this man who looks at me like I'm the real meal he's hungry for.
"Good?" he asks, voice low.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The restaurant suddenly feels too warm, too crowded.
Heat spreads through me, thighs pressed together, desperate to feel his hands on my skin.
Every brush of his fingers is a reminder that I am wanted, that he could take me right here and I would let him.
I ache to be alone, to stop pretending, to give in to the pull he creates in me.
"What are you thinking?" he murmurs against my ear, his breath warm on my neck.
"That this is nice," I say, leaning back into him. "Being here. With you."
His arms tighten around me. "Just nice?"
I turn in his embrace, looking up at him. The ambient lights cast golden patterns across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.
"More than nice," I admit. "It feels…"