Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
EMILIA
It started with the way they kissed me.
Not just how —but why .
Bastion would pull me aside in the hallway, his hand firm at my waist, mouth crashing into mine like he needed to taste me just to think straight. Like the day wasn’t going to work unless he had that moment. Like I was his tether.
Luca was different. Quieter. He’d wait until we were tucked in a back corner of the library, books forgotten, fingers curling around my wrist before tugging me close. His kisses were slower. Deeper. Lingering in a way that felt like he was asking for something more without saying it.
They kissed me like I was more than a game now.
More than a moment.
And that scared me.
Because I was starting to believe them.
Since that night, everything had changed.
They still flirted with me in the dorm—slinging smirks, brushing too close, throwing out quiet “baby”s like they weren’t detonating something inside me every time.
But the touches felt heavier. The looks lasted longer.
And sometimes, when I caught them watching me, it didn’t feel like teasing anymore.
It felt like want.
Real, aching want.
And that was when the guilt hit me.
Because it was happening fast. Too fast.
Making out with one of them… only to be pulled in by the other hours later—I could feel the lines blurring. The space between them vanishing. Between me and them.
They each awakened something different in me. Bastion lit a match and dared me to burn. Luca made it feel like I’d already been burning and just never realized until he touched me.
And it was getting harder to pretend it wasn’t leading somewhere dangerous.
Harder to pretend I wasn’t falling.
For both.
So I did the only thing I could think to do.
I pulled back.
That night, I walked into the dorm with my heart in my throat. Bastion was sprawled on the couch, and Luca had his laptop open at the table, tapping something in. They both looked up.
I didn’t sit beside either of them.
I dropped into the armchair instead, curling my legs under me, pretending I was too tired to talk. Too tired to flirt. Too tired to kiss.
And I kept doing it.
Day after day.
I started leaving earlier for class, taking new routes so I wouldn’t run into them in the hall. I skipped breakfast when they were around. Changed my gym time. Picked new study spots. I even stopped crashing into Luca’s lap during dorm movie nights or lingering beside Bastion after practice.
Because I couldn’t be the reason something broke between them.
Not them.
Not those two.
So I kept my distance, hoping they’d notice.
Hoping I wouldn’t have to say it out loud.
I was just getting a glass of water. That was all.
But I felt him behind me before I saw him—like a shift in gravity. Like the temperature in the room dropped and surged at the same time.
Bastion stepped into the kitchen like he owned it. Like he owned me.
No warning. No sound. Just him.
I didn’t look up at first. Didn’t want to see, the way he’d be looking at me.
But I felt it anyway. The heat. The tension. That quiet, brutal pull.
“Busy night?” he asked, voice lower than usual. Controlled.
I nodded quickly, eyes on the glass. “Just helping Kingston study.”
He didn’t respond. Not at first.
Then came the shift. The snap under the surface.
“You do that a lot now.”
I blinked.
“Study out here,” his voice was low, “with my cousins. ”
I looked up. He was already moving—close enough now that I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe .
Then his hand reached out, took the glass from mine, and set it behind me on the counter. Slowly. Quietly.
His eyes never left mine.
“Nine days,” he muttered, like the words were burning his mouth. “Nine long, fucking days since I’ve had a taste of what’s mine. ”
And before I could move, before I could respond—his hands were on my face, and I was pressed against the bench.
His mouth crashed down on mine—deep, hard, consuming.
That one word echoed through my head, over and over.
Mine.
He lifted me onto the counter in one move, hips between my legs, hands locking around my waist.
“I fucking need you,” he growled against my mouth. “Need to feel your legs wrapped around me. Need to bury myself so deep you forget every other name but mine. ”
He kissed me again, hungrier now. Rougher. His hands splayed across my thighs like he was relearning the shape of them.
“I’m losing my fucking mind, baby.”
Another kiss—hot and bruising.
“I wake up hard. I go to sleep harder. I see you talking to anyone else and I want to wreck them.”
His lips brushed down my jaw, his voice turning gravel against my throat.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like? Watching you smile at my cousins like you don’t know what that mouth is for? ”
I whimpered, gasping as his grip tightened.
“I want your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, baby. I want you on your knees in that little satin dress you wear like a fucking tease.”
His hand slid up my thigh, slow, possessive .
“I’m gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”
He pulled me sharply, into him, and I felt his dick.
“I’m gonna make you forget every word but yes, Bastion. ”
My head was spinning. “Bastion?—”
“No.” He pulled back just enough to see me. “You don’t get to run from this.”
His voice dropped lower. Rougher.
“You belong upstairs.”
I froze.
“Instead, you’re down here. Studying with them. Like this thing between us isn’t fucking real. ” He softened—just slightly.
His eyes searched mine. Something darker behind the fury.
“Did I do something?” he asked, quieter now. “Did I… fuck this up somehow?”
I blinked.
“I know I’m not good at this shit,” he muttered, fingers twitching where they held my hips. “Emotions. Talking. But if I did something—just tell me. ”
His voice cracked. “So I can fix it.”
That broke something in me.
The way he meant it.
The way he stood there—infamous Bastion Crow—asking with the quiet panic of someone terrified he was already losing what he hadn’t even gotten to hold yet.
I shook my head, breath trembling. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His brows furrowed like he didn’t quite believe me.
“I’ve just been… busy.”
He studied me for another second. Then helped me down gently from the counter, holding my waist like I was glass.
I adjusted my dress. Tried to breathe.
“I should get back to Kingston and Cameron. ”
He didn’t stop me.
Didn’t say another word.
And I didn’t look back.
I went back to the table. Sat down. Opened a textbook I couldn’t focus on.
Because if I looked up—if I looked at him again?—
I’d go back.
I didn’t use their ensuite anymore.
Not since everything changed.
It felt too private.
Too theirs .
And lately, I didn’t trust myself not to let the steam blur my boundaries.
So I’d started using the dorm’s shared bathroom down the hall.
Which worked… until tonight.
I stepped out of the shower, hair wet, towel knotted high on my chest. The hallway was quiet, dark. But just as I reached for the door handle to slip out, it opened.
Luca.
His chest rose and fell once. Hard.
He didn’t blink.
His eyes dropped—first to my bare legs, then the towel… then back up to my face.
And lingered.
I froze, hand still on the door. “Sorry—just finishing up.”
He stepped in, closed the door behind him.
Didn’t say a word.
“Luca— ”
“Kingston looked really fucking happy at dinner,” he muttered.
My heart thumped.
“You laugh at his jokes now?” he asked, voice deceptively calm. “Do his notes with him? Let him walk you to the dorm like he’s earned that?”
I backed up half a step. “I was being polite?—”
“That’s not what it looked like.”
His voice darkened as he closed the space between us, backing me toward the counter. One slow, measured step at a time.
“You wore this around him?” he asked, eyes flicking to the towel like it offended him.
“Of course not—Luca, I?—”
He caught my chin, tilting it up, fingers gentle but firm. “Don’t lie to me, baby.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“You know what I hate?” he cut in, voice low and ragged. “The way he looks at you. Like he’s hoping I fuck up so he can take my place.”
His thumb brushed my jaw. “But you’re not his to look at like that. You’re not his to fucking want. ”
I opened my mouth—he leaned in.
Not a kiss.
Just his lips brushing mine.
Hot. Barely there. Dangerous.
His breath hit my throat as his hands dropped to my hips.
His hand slid up, fingers tracing the line of my waist, the dip of my ribs.
“Do you even know what I want to do to you?” he rasped. “How long I’ve wanted it?”
His mouth brushed my cheek, then down to my jaw .
“I want you on your knees,” he whispered, “with that perfect mouth open, begging me to ruin it.”
His lips grazed my ear.
“Wanna drag you into the shower, soak that mouth with praise till you forget any man ever looked at you before me.”
His fingers traced the edge of the towel at my back.
“Want you in my bed,” he added, voice like a promise. “Naked. Writhing. My fingers inside you until you cry my name like a prayer.”
I gasped—he caught it with his mouth, swallowing the sound in a kiss that never landed.
“And then,” he said, “I’ll fuck you so slow and deep, they’ll hear it in every fucking dorm room across this campus.”
My knees buckled.
He caught me—of course he did.
Pressed me to the counter, his body pinning mine, but barely touching. That was the worst part. The restraint.
His nose brushed mine.
“But instead…” His voice turned bitter. “You’re out there playing dynasty daughter to every cousin with my last name.”
“That’s not fair?—”
“No?” he said, smile sharp. “Because I’ve been good , Emilia. Holding back. Watching you parade around in satin with that sweet mouth and bare skin and pretending it’s innocent.”
His thumb dragged across my lower lip.
“You think I don’t see how bad you want it?”
I trembled. “Luca…”
His forehead pressed against mine, breath shaking.
“I’m going to ruin you,” he promised. “But not yet.”
I blinked.
“Not like this,” he added softly. “Not when you still don’t know how fucking mine you already are.”
Then he kissed the corner of my mouth. Just once .
And walked out.
Leaving the door open.
Leaving me undone.
And still wrapped in a towel that felt too tight… and not tight enough.