Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
Cassandra
Dax was like a tornado, beautiful to look at, hypnotic in the way storms always are, but if you got too close he destroyed everything in his wake.
I honestly don’t know what I was thinking—I’m not that girl.
I don’t kiss men I’ve only just met. I don’t follow them down dark corridors in seedy clubs and go into a pleasure room like I’m someone who knows how to handle that kind of danger.
Fuck, I was moments away from begging.
Another thing I don’t do.
I don’t beg.
But I wanted to be on my knees begging Dax—fuck, the man had brought me to my knees without even touching me properly.
He had warned me.
He had fucking warned me, but I hadn’t listened.
Although, who could blame me? His speech sounded like something men rehearsed in the mirror, ready to weaponise when they wanted to tempt a woman with that dangerous, big scary military man persona.
That was the problem though.
I was tempted.
I was there, right on the edge, ready to fall—and he just let me go. I shake my head at myself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I could move on from this, pretend I never met him—except I couldn’t get the way he tasted out of my fucking mouth, and every time I closed my eyes all I could see were those cold ocean-blue eyes staring back at me with enough heat to set me alight from the inside out.
I thought a cold shower would help.
It didn’t.
I thought getting back to Lola’s place and pretending like nothing happened would erase the memory of his mouth on mine.
It didn’t.
I thought if I scrubbed hard enough, I could wash him off me.
Yeah. That really fucking didn’t work.
So now I’m curled up on Lola’s oversized couch—draped in her borrowed hoodie, hood up, legs tucked under me—trying not to think about Dax fucking Kingston.
Spoiler alert: I’m failing.
Horribly.
The front door swings open like a storm has just walked in, a gust of cold air slicing through the warmth of the flat, and I don’t even have to look up to know it’s her.
“You’re sulking.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” She kicks the door shut behind her with one heel and tosses her bag onto the armchair. “You’ve got your hood up and your face buried in that cushion like you’re trying to disappear.”
“Maybe I am.”
She lets out a long, theatrical sigh and drops down next to me, grabbing one of my feet and pulling it onto her lap like I’m her favourite problematic child she has no choice but to deal with.
“So… are you gonna tell me what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Cass.”
I groan into the cushion. “He kissed me.”
A pause.
“Shit. Like really kissed you? My brother? That brother?”
I lift my head just enough to shoot her a look. “Do you have another brother I don’t know about?”
“Well technically I have a half-brother but he’s gay and married and lives in New York so I doubt—” she cuts herself off. “Okay, no. Continue.”
I drop my head back onto the couch and groan again. “It was like—God, Lo. I don’t even have words for it. It was like being set on fire and loving the burn. He kissed me like he wanted to ruin me.”
Lola doesn’t say anything at first. She just traces slow circles along my ankle, like she’s grounding me while choosing her words.
Then she says softly, “That’s kind of his thing, Cass.”
I blink. Sit up straighter.
“What?”
She sighs—really sighs—like she’s carrying the kind of sibling knowledge that should come with a warning label.
“Dax doesn’t… feel things the way other people do. And when he does? It’s messy. Chaotic. It never ends well. Not for him. Not for the girl. Especially not for the girl.”
“But I’m not the girl, Lo,” I argue. “It was just a kiss.”
Her silence is louder than any shout.
Heavier.
Sharper.
I feel it like a fist in my chest.
“You think I’m wrong?” I whisper.
“I think,” she says carefully, “you’re already a little bit wrecked over him. And if that’s what one kiss did to you, imagine what the rest of him would do.”
I don’t have to imagine.
I know.
That’s the problem.
She sighs again, brushing her hair from her face. “He’s not a villain, Cass. But he’s not a hero either. He’s… broken. And dangerous when he forgets he is.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I love you,” she says simply. “And I know that look in your eye. You’re not done with him.”
I stare at the wall, at nothing, at the storm inside my own chest.
Not done with him?
I was just getting started.
I knew it was reckless. I should just leave it as a kiss in the dark with a stranger I’d only just met—a sweet memory that burned my fucking soul—but I couldn’t. I didn’t understand why he had to stop. What kind of man starts a fire and then puts it out?
Who does that?
Who looks at you like you’re the only thing worth ruining, kisses you like it’s a promise, and then walks away like it never happened?
I press my fists into the couch cushions, trying to breathe around the ache in my chest.
It wasn’t just a kiss.
I know that.
He knows that.
I felt it. The second his mouth hit mine, something snapped inside me. Something old and quiet and caged. And now it’s awake. Alive. Pacing just beneath my skin like it wants to be fed again.
God, I’m losing my mind.
Over a man I don’t even know.
But that’s the thing.
I do know.
I know how he breathes when he’s fighting himself.
I know how he tastes when he lets go, just for a second.
I know how his voice sounds when he says good girl like it’s a sacred fucking prayer.
And now I know what it feels like to miss someone who was never mine to begin with.
“Earth to Cassandra,” Lola says, nudging my shin.
I blink. “What?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That thing where you stare into space like you’re plotting a murder. And considering the context, I can only assume the victim is my brother.”
I snort. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
She smirks, but it fades quickly. “Just… be careful, okay?”
I nod, but it’s a lie.
I won’t be careful.
Not with him.
Not when I already know what it feels like to have Dax Kingston’s mouth on mine and his body pressed against me and his voice dragging me to my knees.
I want more.
I need more.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to get it—
Even if it burns me alive.