Chapter 2 #4
Lykos stared at me with an intensity that burrowed into my chest while his hands roamed my body, gently brushing my sensitive skin.
“I really want to keep you,” he said, almost as if talking to himself, but the words settled over me like a warm breeze.
I met his heavy-lidded eyes, my fingers tapping lightly against his muscles.
“So keep me,” I murmured. “But first, fuck me again.”
“Remember, you asked for it,” he rasped. And then he fucked me again and again until we both collapsed from exhaustion.
I woke up in a warm, comfortable bed.
The sheets were soft against my skin, tangled around my legs and carrying the distinct scent of… a man.
I wasn’t alone.
My senses slowly returned and I opened my eyes.
I stretched, still caught in that hazy, semi-lucid space, and reached out. My hand found his strong body and I traced the firm ridges of his abdomen, each line sculpted like it had been personally carved by the Greek gods.
He exhaled in his sleep, the low, steady rhythm of his breathing stirring something deep in my chest. The man who had unraveled me just hours before lay beside me, thoroughly at ease.
Moonlight spilled across the room in silver streaks, the sheet barely draped over his hips, doing nothing to hide him. He was completely naked. Every hard, raw inch of him exposed. He appeared powerful even in rest.
My gaze lingered before reality crashed in.
I rolled onto my back and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
4:03 a.m.
A sharp breath caught in my throat. I should have been back at Sophie’s by now. My friend was going to lose her mind when she woke up and found my bed untouched. She might have already called the police.
Carefully, I began to move.
The sheets slid away from my body as I shifted, and the movement caused me to wince. A dull ache throbbed between my legs—a reminder of everything that had happened. But there was something else too.
I paused as recognition settled. I was clean.
My brows knitted together as I glanced down at myself. There was no trace of the night left on my skin. No stickiness. Nothing.
He had cleaned me, and then he’d tucked me in.
The realization sent an unexpected ripple through me. My gaze flicked back to him. He was still asleep, his face relaxed and boyish.
My feet met the cool hardwood floor. I stretched my arms above my head, stifling a yawn, then headed for the sofa.
My dress and his clothes were neatly folded in a pile.
I walked over, careful not to wake him up. When I picked up his suit jacket, his scent wrapped around me—rich, masculine, drugging. For a moment, I just stood there, breathing it in.
But there was no time to waste, so I tossed it aside and reached for my dress.
A soft clink echoed against the floor.
I froze, holding my breath.
Behind me, Lykos shifted, rolling onto his stomach. My heart leapt into my throat as I stood perfectly still, waiting.
His snoring resumed, and I let myself smile as I tried to reconcile the man who’d fucked me into oblivion with the one lying there, the softest sounds passing through parted lips.
I pulled my dress over my head in one swift motion, then crouched down, searching for whatever had fallen.
A faint glimmer in the moonlight drew my attention, and I lowered myself to my knees, reaching for it.
It was a ring.
My stomach tightened, weighing the cold metal in the palm of my hand.
“It’s just a… ring,” I whispered, turning it slowly between my fingertips.
There was an inscription.
My breath hitched as I brought it closer, squinting to read the delicate engraving along the inner band. Lykos & Amara.
Everything inside me stopped.
“No. No… no… no…”
My heart dropped straight through my chest. A wave of shame crashed over me, holding me under.
Lykos was married.
The room tilted, and suddenly my world was rocked in a completely different way.
I pressed my free hand to the floor to steady myself, but it didn’t help. My thoughts spiraled, unraveling faster than I could catch them.
I was the other woman. A homewrecker.
Oh my God!
I dragged a shaky hand over my face, my chest tightening with self-disgust. Hatred.
A hollow laugh nearly escaped me, but it died in my throat. Of course. Of course I had been stupid enough to believe his words about celibacy—
God, I was such an idiot. I never even asked him if he was married.
Behind me, he shifted again.
My breath caught as I waited, every muscle in my body going rigid. Seconds stretched.
He didn’t wake.
A strange mix of disappointment and relief replaced the shock. Part of me wanted him to open his eyes—to explain, to lie, to give me something I could tear apart. But the louder, wiser part of me knew better.
There was nothing he could say that would fix this.
I straightened and shoved the ring back into the pocket of his jacket with trembling fingers.
“Thank you for teaching me a valuable lesson,” I murmured under my breath, my voice soundless in the quiet room. “I hope we never meet again.”
I grabbed my heels and beelined for the door. Each step felt surreal, like I was walking out of my own life instead of someone else’s.