Chapter 18 Selene
EIGHTEEN
SELENE
I stayed there for a moment—perched on the edge of the table, legs bare and trembling, Austin’s chest still pressed to mine.
My fingers were in his hair, slack now, no longer clinging like they had been a minute ago.
The air between us shimmered with heat, but something colder had already started to crawl beneath my skin.
He was still holding me, and I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that without needing to be asked.
The rise and fall of his breath moved against me, steady and solid. I’d forgotten what that felt like. That slow, grounding rhythm of another person simply being there without expectation or apology.
To simply be a woman in a man’s arms.
My body was sated, aching in the best way, but my thoughts—those were less cooperative. They were already spinning, pulling me under like a riptide I hadn’t prepared for.
What the hell had I just done? Again.
A smile played at my lips before I could stop it. Austin’s head dipped, his mouth brushing against the edge of my jaw like it was second nature. It was so gentle, so instinctive, it almost broke me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and rough, the kind of voice you didn’t forget even after the sound faded.
I nodded too quickly. “I think so.”
A flicker of a grin pulled at his mouth. “I can’t feel my legs.”
I sucked in a breath, tried to laugh, but it came out thin and strange.
I shifted slightly, the cool edge of the table pressing into my thighs—a reminder that I was still half naked and very much exposed.
Not just physically, but in a way that went deeper than skin.
I reached down, fingers fumbling slightly as I tugged the hem of my dress back into place, smoothing the fabric over my legs.
Austin didn’t look away. He didn’t leer or make a joke. He just watched me—quiet, present, and reverent in a way that made my throat go tight.
The intimacy of it all settled around us, heavy and a little bit strange. It was a connectedness that didn’t come from sex, but from what came after. Just a man standing in my home after wrecking me in the most beautiful way, watching me like I was something sacred.
My underwear was somewhere on the floor, I was pretty sure, but modesty wasn’t the point.
I needed the barrier. Something. Anything.
The truth was, the more I came back to myself, the more I realized I’d done something dangerous.
I had let him in.
Not just into my bed—or onto my table—but into the space I’d been keeping locked tight since the day Brian told me I was too much and not enough all at once.
I’d let Austin see the version of me that hadn’t existed in years, and it had felt good.
Too good.
He was still watching me when I slid off the table, his eyes tracking the way my dress fluttered down to cover my hips. I tried to ignore the rush of heat that followed. My body was still very aware of him, even if my brain was throwing up every red flag it could muster.
Austin pushed off the counter with a quiet exhale.
“Give me one sec,” he murmured, brushing a hand lightly along my arm as he passed.
He grabbed his jeans and disappeared down the hall toward the bathroom.
I searched the floor for my discarded underwear.
I found them in a rumpled pile, slipped them back on, and smoothed my skirt down with a shaky hand.
When he returned—bare-chested but freshly zipped and a little more composed—he leaned back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, golden in the dim light.
“Well.” I ran a hand through my hair and tried to laugh again. “That escalated quickly.”
“No complaints here,” he said with a smile. There it was. That smirk. That spark. The very one I should’ve ignored from the beginning. Instead, it made something flutter in my chest that I didn’t have a name for.
I didn’t respond, and instead I moved through the kitchen like I hadn’t just had my legs around a man who knew exactly how to use his mouth and his dick.
His head tilted, not quite facing me. “Is this the part where you kick me out?” Austin’s voice was light, but his tone was laced with a subtle hurt. The question was light, almost teasing, but it landed with more weight than I expected.
I blinked. “What?”
He turned then, eyes meeting mine with a look that was too knowing. “It’s okay. You’re trying to figure out how to say it without hurting my feelings.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, because . . . damn it, he wasn’t wrong.
I had been thinking it. Not because I wanted him gone, but because the longer he stayed, the harder it became to pretend this was casual. The harder it was to pretend I wasn’t already craving him again—for things that had nothing to do with sex.
Maybe that was what unsettled me the most—how naturally he fit here. In my space. In this moment. Like the edges of our lives had been stitched together when I wasn’t paying attention.
I watched him from the corner of the kitchen, perched against the doorway like a woman debating whether to run or stay. So I did what I always did when emotions tangled too tight to name.
I dodged.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said, my voice soft. “And . . . everything.”
He didn’t flinch. Austin nodded with a smile and turned toward the sink. He began rinsing plates, tanned skin exposed, forearms flexing as he moved like he belonged there.
I stood and stared, completely dumbfounded as to how I’d found myself in this exact scenario.
Then he set a wineglass down and stepped in close—close enough that I caught the scent of him again, woodsmoke and warm skin and something faintly citrus.
His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from my cheek.
“Selene,” he said, just my name. No question. No plea. Just . . . me.
It landed with more intimacy than anything we’d done on that table.
He kissed my temple, featherlight, and pulled back with a crooked smile. “For the record, I’m not in a rush.”
I exhaled something between a laugh and a sigh. “I’m not kicking you out.”
“Good.” He turned back to the sink like that settled it, like he knew he could stay, at least for a little while.
Music still played low from the speaker on the counter—something moody and folksy, with a lilting guitar that wrapped around the room like candlelight.
Austin hummed along under his breath, washing the last of the dishes like this was any normal night and not the one where I’d just let him see more of me than anyone had in years.
His hand brushed my lower back as he passed behind me to grab a dish towel and let it linger longer than it needed to.
I busied myself wiping the counter, even though it didn’t need it. My mind felt louder than the music. Louder than the dishes or the hum of the fridge.
It wasn’t just that he stayed.
It was the way he stayed.
Unrushed. Unbothered. It was as if I didn’t need to be entertaining or funny or accommodating. It was almost like it was enough that I was just here, in my kitchen, breathing beside him.
I swallowed hard and leaned against the edge of the counter, watching him stack the glasses to dry.
Brian used to do the dishes, too, at first. He’d tell me to go sit down, to rest. That I did too much and I’d believed him.
Until it changed.
Until I was doing too little, asking too much, being too needy, too tired, too soft. Until the very things he’d once found endearing became evidence of my failure.
A different ache bloomed behind my ribs. I shook it off and reached for the wine, pouring the last splash into my glass.
Austin turned to say something but paused, eyes searching mine.
“You’re somewhere else,” he said.
I forced a smile. “Just tired.”
He didn’t press, and I was grateful, because the truth was tangled and complicated.
The truth was, he made me feel too safe, too solid, and that was the danger. Not because I didn’t want it, but because a part of me was starting to believe he might actually be different.
That maybe I wasn’t the only one here hoping this could be more than what we were pretending it was.
I looked over at him again, lit by the glow of the kitchen light, jaw shadowed with stubble, towel slung over his shoulder like he was made to be in this exact moment.
And still humming.
Heaven help me, I was starting to hope.
I expected him to make a move, maybe kiss me again or reach for more. Instead, he rinsed the last dish, shut off the tap, and turned to me with a smile that didn’t ask for anything. “I think you should take a bath.”
The words caught me off guard. “I—what?”
“You’ve got the house all to yourself.” He nodded toward the hallway. “Go take a long, hot bath. Put on music. Breathe.”
My instinct was to deflect—to say I didn’t need that.
To stay standing in this kitchen like I had something to prove, but Austin was already drying his hands.
He walked past me and upstairs toward my bathroom like it was a foregone conclusion.
I followed him up, and by the time I stepped in behind him, steam was curling against the mirror as the tub filled.
He reached for a bottle and held it up, his eyes flicking to mine. “Is lavender honey okay? I found it in the linen closet.”
I nodded. He had found the bubble bath tucked behind the soaps I used only when I wanted to pretend I was the kind of woman who had time for long soaks and luxury.
“I knew it.” He poured slowly, letting it foam and build, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Knew what?” I stepped closer.
His cheeks pinched. “That you’re a bubble bath girl.”
“I’m a haven’t-had-a-minute-to-myself-in-months girl,” I said dryly.
He chuckled, then straightened. I realized, too late, that he wasn’t leaving.
Austin stepped close, hands finding the hem of my dress. He didn’t say anything—just waited, eyes steady on mine, giving me every chance to back out.
I didn’t move.
Not when his fingers slid the zipper down my side. Not when the fabric slipped over my hips and fell to the floor with a whisper.
I stood there in my bra and underwear, suddenly hyperaware of every scar and stretch mark, every place my body no longer felt like the one I’d lived in before becoming someone’s mother.
I crossed my arms over my stomach, a flicker of apology already forming on my lips.
He stopped me with a look. “Selene.”
Just my name, but it settled something restless inside me.
His eyes didn’t drift. They didn’t assess or compare or calculate. They devoured—hungry and awed and unashamed.
“You are incredibly beautiful,” he said, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “I wish you could see what I see.”
Heat bloomed under my skin. Austin stepped in closer, fingers ghosting along the straps of my bra, easing them down with a reverence that made me want to cry.
He wasn’t trying to get me naked.
He was giving me back to myself.
Once I was bare, he stepped back—not to admire, but to give me space to choose.
I climbed into the bath, easing down inch by inch, my whole body sighing as the hot water wrapped around me like a second skin. The bubbles hissed as I sank up to my collarbone, letting my head tip back against the porcelain.
It felt indulgent.
It felt earned.
Austin reached for my phone from the counter. “What do you want to listen to?”
He held the phone out to me so I could unlock it.
“Dean Martin,” I murmured, closing my eyes again.
He paused, then laughed under his breath. “So you did hear.”
A smirk formed on my lips. “I might have.”
He scrolled through something, and a moment later the opening notes of “I Don’t Know Why” drifted through the steam.
I let out a long breath, feeling the music bloom around me.
He lingered near the edge of the tub, fingers drumming against the side.
“Good night, Selene,” he said.
When I opened my eyes and saw him turning to go, I reached for him without thinking. “Hey . . .” I blinked, gathering my courage. “Stay.” The word was quiet. Uncertain. Hopeful.
He stilled.
When he turned back around, his expression was unreadable, but his hands went to the hem of his shirt and he started to undress.
This time, I watched.
The muscles in his shoulders flexed as he tugged his shirt over his head. The hard lines of his abdomen, the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his jeans. His hands were confident, unhurried, as he unbuttoned his jeans and stepped out of them.
He wasn’t posing and wasn’t trying to impress me, but god help me, I was thoroughly impressed. He was thick and muscular, rough around the edges in all the ways that made my skin tingle. A man who used his body. Austin was a man who didn’t just take up space—he filled it.
When he stepped into the tub, the water rising around him, I found myself leaning back against his chest without even thinking.
His arms came around me, solid, warm, and steady.
I closed my eyes, letting the music, the heat, and the hum of his breath against my neck wash over me.
This wasn’t sex. It wasn’t even seduction.
It was something deeper.
Something that had the power to unravel me completely.