Chapter Twenty-Nine When the Walls Start to Fall
Chapter Twenty-Nine
When the Walls Start to Fall
Frankie
The soft hum of the yacht’s engines is the only sound as we sit in the lounge, Hayes and I nursing the last of our drinks.
The evening was . . . unexpected. We’d laughed, swapped stories about the most ridiculous things that had happened to us in our lives, and for once, I didn’t feel like I was walking around on eggshells, trying not to screw something up.
Charles and now even Hayes seem to get me, to accept me.
“I think you’re the first person who’s ever made me laugh this much,” he says, swirling the last of his wine. Hayes is leaning back on the couch, his arm stretched across the backrest, looking at me like he’s trying to figure me out. The kind of look that usually makes me want to squirm.
“Is that a compliment?” I ask.
“Of course it is,” he says, voice low.
I roll my eyes, trying to play it off. “I guess you can be tolerable, too, for a billionaire.”
“Wow,” he says, feigning offense. “I’m hurt.”
I can’t help but laugh. His teasing is starting to feel . . . comfortable. Maybe it’s the way his eyes light up when I make him laugh, or how he actually listens when I talk about all the stupid things that have gone wrong in my life.
The silence stretches between us, but it’s not awkward. Just comfortable. And something shifts. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me now, like he’s seeing me for the first time without all the walls up.
I glance away, trying to shake the sudden heat spreading through me. It’s ridiculous. Hayes is . . . well, Hayes. He’s all wrong for me, and not to mention probably leaving soon. But I can’t stop replaying that kiss . . .
“Why do you do that?” he asks suddenly, breaking the silence.
“Do what?”
“Hide. Whenever things get too real, you shut down.”
I freeze, caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”
He reaches over, brushing the hair from my face, and touches my cheek.
He looks at me like he sees through all the things I worry about.
My finances, my anxiety, my weight. He looks at me like none of it matters—and maybe it doesn’t.
In his presence, I feel weightless, like the world is my oyster.
But I know none of this is real. My time with Charles will eventually end, the bubble will burst, and I’ll be back to sharing a crappy apartment in Jersey—alone and lonely.
And Hayes will probably move on to some supermodel or actress.
“You’re good at pretending like nothing gets to you. Like you don’t care about the things that matter,” he says softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But you do. I can see it.”
I blink, unsure of how to respond. Is it that obvious? I thought I’d been hiding it better. But Hayes—he’s always paying attention, isn’t he?
I sigh, setting my glass down. “I don’t know. I guess it’s easier than showing anyone the stuff that really gets to me. The things that make me . . . vulnerable.”
There’s a long pause. Then he leans forward, his voice low. “I get it. More than you think.”
I look up, and for a second, the world outside this room fades. It’s just him and me. No more pretending. The tension between us is undeniable, and for the first time, I don’t want to run from it.
Then he does something unexpected. He reaches out, lightly brushing his fingers over mine. It’s such a small gesture, but it sends a spark through my entire body. He notices the way I freeze, but instead of pulling away, he holds my hand gently, as though waiting for me to make the next move.
“I’m not going to bite,” he says softly, his voice low. “You’re safe.”
I swallow hard. “I’m not so sure about that.”
His thumb moves slowly over my hand, and I’m so aware of the way it feels—his touch is both comforting and electrifying. I should pull away, distance myself, but the truth is . . . I don’t want to.
“Why do I feel like you’re trying to push me away?” he murmurs, his gaze on mine so intense it makes it hard to breathe.
I open my mouth to say something, but the words don’t come. Instead, I just stare at him. And then, without thinking, I pull my hand free, moving a little closer, my breath catching in my throat.
“You’re remembering that kiss, aren’t you?” he whispers, his lips barely an inch from mine now.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the silence stretch between us. There’s so much I could say—but instead, I just nod my head.
And before I can process what’s happening, his lips are on mine, gentle but insistent. The kiss is slow at first, as if he’s waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. I don’t want to.
The kiss deepens, and my heart is racing now. His lips move against mine, slow and deliberate, as if he’s waiting for something. Maybe he’s waiting for me to fully give in.
But then, the sound of footsteps echoing across the deck breaks through the haze of desire. My eyes snap open just in time to see a crew member walk past, his eyes briefly flicking over us. I feel the moment like a slap in the face—too exposed, too real—and I jerk back, quickly pulling away.
I stare at Hayes, my chest heaving. His eyes are still closed for a second, as if he’s in a daze, before he opens them, locking on to mine. There’s a flash of something—disappointment, maybe? Or just surprise that I pulled back.
I swallow hard, breaking the silence between us. “I should . . . I should go,” I murmur, my legs shaking, like they might give out beneath me.
Before he can say anything, I push to my feet, my heart pounding in my throat. “Good night,” I say, my voice a little too shaky. I turn and quickly head toward my cabin, not looking back. I don’t want to look back. Because if I do, I might not leave.
The hallway is cool as I slip into my room and close the door behind me. I lean against it, taking deep breaths, trying to steady myself, but I can’t. The kiss lingers on my lips. The heat of his touch is still burning through my skin.
I walk over to the bed and sit down, my mind racing, wondering what the hell just happened. This wasn’t on my radar at all, me and Hayes, but I feel like I’ve stepped off a cliff and now I have no idea how to climb back.
Then, just as I’m about to collapse onto the bed, I hear a knock. Soft. Gentle.
My heart skips a beat. I freeze, my breath catching in my chest. I don’t want to open the door, but I also don’t want to ignore it.
I stand and walk slowly to the door, hesitating for a moment before I turn the handle.
The door opens just a crack, and there he is—Hayes. His expression is different this time, softer, almost . . . tentative.
“Frankie,” he says, his voice low. He steps forward, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat. “I didn’t mean for things to end that way.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he doesn’t give me the chance. His hand comes up, cupping my cheek, and he kisses me again. But this time, there’s no hesitation. No space. This time, it’s all heat and need, and it’s so much more than I can handle.
My legs go weak again as he presses me back against the door, the kiss deepening, his hands moving to the buttons of my shirt.
I don’t protest. I don’t want to protest. His lips trail down my neck, and my head falls back with a soft gasp.
He kisses a line down to my collarbone before looking up at me, his eyes dark and intense.
“I want you,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to send a thrill through my entire body.
But then, he pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, his breath heaving like he just swam laps.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice is low, and his eyes are intense. There’s a vulnerability in them that catches me off guard. He’s waiting for me, asking if I want this too.
I swallow, my heart racing, and I nod. “Don’t stop,” I manage to get out, voice trembling with excitement.
He kisses me. Hard. A demanding, urgent kiss that seems to stretch on for days. Weeks. Years.
When he finally pulls back, I’m lost—sinking. I can’t speak. It seems that neither can Hayes. He just watches me with a stunned expression.
I don’t know what’s happening, but I do know it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
He leans in again, his lips capturing mine in a slow, deliberate kiss, and his hands move with purpose. I can feel every inch of him against me, the heat of his touch making every reason why we shouldn’t vanish entirely.
Without another word, he pulls my shirt off, then drops the fabric to the floor. I do the same to him, my fingers shaking as I undo his shirt, exposing the warm skin underneath. His hands are on me again, pulling me closer, as if we’re both starving for this. For each other.
His lips find mine, desperate this time, as he advances me toward the bed. I barely have time to react before I’m on the mattress, his weight pressing me down. My breath hitches as he moves to undress me completely, his hands gentle but firm, as if he knows exactly what I need and when.
His lips trail lower, unhurried, leaving warmth in their wake. Every place he touches feels lit from within, a slow burn spreading through me until I can’t take much more.
When his mouth finds mine again, it’s softer this time—less hunger, more promise. He’s steady where I’m trembling, certain where I’m undone.
“Please stop being so good at this,” I murmur.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says, his lips moving to my neck. He laughs softly against my skin, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, everything else disappears—the hum of the yacht, the weight of the day, the ache I’ve been carrying for so long.
“Was that okay? You’re kind of spacing out,” Hayes asks, clearly not getting why I’m suddenly silent.
“Huh? No, that was not okay. What just happened?”
I’m still processing the whole thing. The bar has been set so high, I don’t know how anything else could ever compare. “I don’t know who you are or what kind of sorcery you pulled, but no—I am not okay.”
“Come again?”
“Exactly!” I burst out, trying to collect my thoughts.
He chuckles, clearly amused.
“No, seriously, Hayes. That was intimidating. I feel like I just went through an intense workout with no warm-up. I don’t even know where to go from here.”
“Shh.” He leans in to kiss me, trying to smooth things over with a dose of charm.
I blink, still stunned. “What am I supposed to do? Pretend it never happened?”
He shrugs, a little too casual, then covers us with the sheet. “Nope. We don’t have to pretend anything. Just act normal. I’ve found it’s best to maintain a ‘business as usual’ policy after these sorts of things.”
I squint at him, crossing my arms. “These sorts of things as in . . . hooking up with the help?” I raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed stare.
He waves a hand, nonchalant. “You’re not really the help. I’d say you at least qualify as Charles’s companion by now.”
I huff before turning on my side, snuggling closer—because he’s warm, and solid, and well, gorgeous. Even if that was annoying.
“You’re something else, Frankie,” he says around a deep, satisfied sigh.
“Yeah well, I really think I pulled a muscle.”
Hayes laughs.