Chapter 4
Iblink against the light. We've moved across the living room to stand by the large window that overlooks the street below. The afternoon sun filters through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the hardwood floor.
Aiden stands in front of me now, his blue eyes studying my face with an intensity that makes my breath catch. There's something different in his gaze—a heat that wasn't there before.
"How do you feel?" he asks.
I consider the question, searching for the right words. "Light," I say finally. "Like I don't have to carry everything alone."
His lips curve into a small smile. "That's what submission should feel like. A release. A sharing of burdens."
I nod, unable to look away from his face. He's beautiful in a way I didn't fully appreciate in the clinical setting of the facility—all sharp angles and controlled power.
"I'm going to touch your face now," he says, his voice low. "Is that okay?"
My heart flutters against my ribs."Yes," I whisper, the word barely audible even to my own ears.
His hand reaches out, slowly and deliberately, giving me time to change my mind. When his fingers make contact with my cheek, they're warm and slightly rough.
His thumb traces the line of my jaw with exquisite care, as if I'm something precious that might break under too much pressure.
I lean into his touch before I can stop myself, starved for gentle contact after months of clinical handling or brutal force. My eyelids flutter closed again, savoring the sensation.
"Look at me," he commands softly.
I open my eyes to find his gaze fixed on mine, blue and intense. There's something in those depths that makes my breath catch—desire, yes, but something else too. Something that looks like protectiveness.
"I want to try something," Aiden says. "But I need your permission first."
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "What is it?"
"I want to kiss you." His voice is steady, but I can see the tension in his jaw, the careful control he's maintaining.
"Not because it's part of your training or recovery, but because I want to.
Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you left the facility.
But I need to know if that's something you're ready for. If it’s not, I’ll still be here for you. "
His words leave me breathless. This isn't what I expected when I called him—this raw honesty, this admission of desire. I search his face for any sign of manipulation, but all I see is vulnerability beneath his controlled exterior.
"Why?" I whisper, needing to understand. "Why me? After everything you've seen, everything you know about me..."
Aiden's thumb traces my lower lip, the touch so light it's barely there. "Because I see your strength. Your resilience. Because even after everything they did to try to break you, you're still fighting to reclaim yourself."
My heart pounds against my ribs like a caged bird.
I should be terrified by this—by him, by the intensity of what's building between us.
But instead, I feel something I haven't felt in months: desire.
Not the programmed response they conditioned into me at the facility, but something real and warm and mine.
"Yes," I say, my voice steadier than I expect. "You can kiss me."
Something flashes in his eyes—relief, hunger, tenderness—all mixed together. His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair as he draws me closer. I have time to change my mind, to pull away, but I don't want to.
His lips touch mine, gentle at first, barely a whisper of contact. It's a question more than a kiss, giving me the chance to retreat. But instead of pulling back, I press forward, answering his question with my body.
The kiss deepens, his mouth moving against mine with growing intensity. Heat spreads through me, a slow burn that starts at my lips and travels downward, pooling low in my belly. I make a small sound in the back of my throat, something between a sigh and a whimper.
Aiden's hand tightens in my hair, not painfully but with enough pressure to remind me who's in control. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine, igniting nerves I thought had been deadened by trauma.
When he finally pulls away, we're both breathing harder. His blue eyes have darkened, pupils expanded with desire. I feel dizzy, lightheaded in a way that has nothing to do with fear. I feel alive, truly alive, for the first time since before my captivity.