Chapter 10
Iawaken to darkness. For a fleeting, visceral moment, I’m six years old again, terrified of shadows on the walls and monsters under the bed. My heart pounds as I bite down hard on my bottom lip. Don’t cry out. Don’t make a sound. Mother will be angry if I disturb her again.
Then reality sweeps in, scattering the past like dust. I’m not a child anymore. I’m a grown woman who allowed one call from Miranda Townsen to reduce me to that scared, powerless little girl.
As I lay there, the events of the night trickle in.
I’d returned to the cottage in agony, the kind of pain that swallows everything else.
After taking my pills, I’d stripped down and pulled my heated blanket over my bare skin, seeking relief where none could be found.
By five o’clock, it was obvious that my evening with Chaz was out of the question.
Just typing out a cancelation text felt like a monumental task.
But he’d shown up anyway—the kind of man who will always show up.
He’d made toast and tea, caring for me in a way I’m not used to.
And despite my reservations, I’d let him give me a massage.
It hadn’t felt awkward at all. His hands were indeed magic, his touch warm and firm, kneading me into a puddle of goo while the velvety cadence of his voice smoothed the edges of my pain.
That, coupled with the medication, loosened my tongue.
I’d confessed things that I’ve only ever shared with Jordyn and Dee.
To everyone else, I’m Alexandra Townsen—poised, competent, and unflappable.
I command boardrooms, manage multi-million-dollar portfolios, and navigate the high-pressure world of PR.
I got Richard’s medical practice off the ground, hosted fundraisers, and wined and dined clients without showing any chinks in my designer armor.
But it was all an illusion—an act crafted out of necessity while hiding the hot mess rioting inside me.
And for what? To make my impossible-to-please parents proud?
To fit into a social circle I didn’t even want to belong to?
What was the freaking point? This pressure to keep up appearances, to mold myself into their image of perfection, feels so useless.
Now I’m here trying to break away, and I still let them get to me.
“Ugh!” I scream into the cushion.
When strong arms come around me, I stifle a gasp. I can’t see him in the inky darkness, but I don’t need to. I recognize his touch and scent even before he draws me onto his lap, before his mouth brushes my hair, and before my body instinctively fits into his. Chaz.
“Bad dream?” His low voice rumbles against my ear.
“No,” I murmur. “Just woke up disoriented, and my mind’s a little jumbled. I thought you’d be gone.”
“I said I’d stay.”
Now, I remember begging him not to leave. Heat floods my face. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being such a bother.”
“As you should be,” he says with his usual playful humor. “It’s a real hardship having a beautiful woman cuddled up against me.”
I smile into his side, my head nestled in the crook of his broad shoulder. My legs are draped sideways over his lap, my hand resting on his chest. He’s stroking the curve of my hip with a lazy rhythm, and I feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
He smells so good, earthy and warm, like coffee, sandalwood, and cinnamon—reminding me of autumn, my favorite season. I lean into his large, husky body that feels comforting and protective. Safe and exciting all at once.
“How long was I out?” I ask.
“Just a couple of hours. How’s your head?”
“Better.” The idle caress of his fingertips is hypnotic. “Thank you for all you did.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“Sorry about our movie night.”
“It’s fine, Lex. They’ll be others.”
“Chaz?”
“Hm?”
Maybe it’s the cover of darkness, maybe I’m still groggy from sleep, or maybe I just think, fuck it. Whatever the reason, I lift my mouth to his—seeking.
He stills me with fingers to my chin. “As much as I want to, you’ve had a rough night. You were sick and taking medication; you just woke up—”
“I’m aware of what I’m doing,” I interject, cutting off his concerns. “I want this.”
“What? Tell me.”
He’s right here, smelling and feeling divine. And I’m all melty and needy and unafraid. “I want to kiss you, and I really want you to kiss me.”
And then his mouth is on mine, tender and warm, just like last time.
But in the next second, he cups the back of my neck, and sends me reeling.
As if denied too long, there’s no restraint in the way he consumes me.
Hot, wet, and demanding. I had known there was something more primitive, more dangerous beneath the laidback, affable surface. And I find it all too thrilling.
My pulse leaps to a roar. I circle my arms around his neck, but the side angle is restrictive.
We can’t get close enough. Chaz grabs me underneath both thighs and swings me around to straddle him.
I snake my hands into his hair, gripping his dense curls for balance as he all but devours me.
His tongue delves repeatedly between my lips, and I feel him, hard and virile, through the opening of my robe, only separated by a layer of denim.
His hands cup my ass, his mouth moving wildly over mine, stealing my breath and all my caution.
Pleasure infuses my chest, tightening my nipples and twisting downward like a cyclone low in my belly and between my thighs.
I didn’t think I could become so aroused that I wouldn’t even know which way was up.
My body aches, my core throbbing with a heartbeat of its own.
I dig my knees into the couch and rock against him.
“Lexie, fuck,” he groans, eating me up with kisses. “Can I touch you?”
My mind blank to everything else, I shrug off the top of my robe in answer and suck in a breath when I feel the heat of his hands on my bare skin, fondling the curves of my breasts.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs even though he can’t see me. “You feel amazing.”
I flick his tongue with mine, and his thumbs circle my nipples.
The windowpanes shake from the wind like a storm is brewing. But the storm is right here—in me—between us. His mouth inches down, nipping at my jaw, sliding along the side of my neck, sucking on my skin.
“Tell me what you want, Blue. What you need.”
I can only moan in answer, rocking over his erection harder, faster, a desperate race to finally get there.
Praying that maybe this time my body will work the way it’s supposed to.
On the cusp—so close—I increase my speed, going after it with fury, but the harder I chase, the more it feels like I’m trying to catch smoke.
It keeps slipping from my reach, held hostage by something in me that’s damaged and broken.
Shaking now, but no longer from pleasure, shame tightens my throat until I’m nearly choking. My head spins, and thorny spines scratch at my skin. The frantic gasps I realize are coming from me drown out Chaz’s voice.
I yank up my robe and scramble off his lap, needing space, air—anything to stop the spiral.
But the room narrows, becoming a dark cage surrounding me.
I sink to the floor. A lamp comes on, spotlighting my meltdown.
No one has ever witnessed me like this before.
If he would just leave, I could put on my headphones and curl up beneath my heated blanket.
Instead, he’s squatting in front of me, his expression alarmed.
“Pl . . . please go.” I close my eyes, finding it unbearable to see the look on his face as he realizes what a disaster I am.
“I’m not leaving you like this,” he says gently. “What can I do?”
I shake my head. He wants to help, but even Chaz, with all his strength and comfort, can’t pull me from this place. I just need him to go.
“Lexie, look at me.”
I can’t. I can’t. The rigid facade I work so hard to maintain is rupturing, exploding from the pressure. I can’t hold it back. Go! I want to scream, but that’s not what comes out. Instead, it’s a sob—a horrible, mewling sob.
“I’m here, baby,” he murmurs and wraps me tight in his arms while a stream of tears drowns us both.
He doesn’t tell me to calm down or try to stop me, not even when the sobs shake me so violently I think I might snap. He simply holds on, stroking my hair, and lets me weep until I have nothing left.
Spent, I go limp against his chest. My face feels swollen and flushed—my throat raw. “I’m so sorry, Chaz,” I croak.
“Don’t be.”
“You must think I’m a mess.”
“Never that. I think you needed a release from all you keep pent up inside.”
He isn’t wrong. There’s a sense of—not lightness, but cleansing. I just wish I hadn’t lost it and put him in a situation I don’t know how to untangle us from.
Chaz pulls back first, meeting my puffy eyes and brushing my hair off my wet cheeks.
“How awful do I look?”
“You’re always a twelve in my books.”
“Is that out of twenty?”
“Good to see your quick wit is back.” He grins.
“Mind if I wash up and change?” I ask, cinching my robe closed in a futile attempt at modesty.
“Not at all. Take your time.” He helps me stand. “I’ll fix something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do—”
“Lexie, go change. I’ve got this.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I head upstairs to make myself presentable. As if I can pretty up the flaws or cover my broken parts with a washed face and some blush. It’s pointless, really. He’s seen everything now—the barrier between me and pleasure. It’s like a wall of ice separating me from my sexuality.
On autopilot, I get dressed, feeling regret deep in my bones that I can’t be what he needs—what he deserves. When I come back downstairs, Chaz is at the stove, casually cracking eggs and humming like nothing’s changed. Like I hadn’t just shattered in front of him.
He glances over at me with an affectionate smile. “Hungry?”
“Yes.” I nod, amazed that I actually am.
“Good.” And instead of pressing me on how I’m feeling or talking about what happened, he asks, “How do you take your eggs?”
It’s such a simple question as if we’re just two people enjoying a quiet evening together. And maybe, at least for now, I can believe we are.