Chapter 29
Three days later, Natalie gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles white as she stared into the mirror. The cool marble grounded her, but it didn’t steady the storm inside. Reality was here—unavoidable, unforgiving—and it whispered one truth she could no longer ignore.
The accident had stripped away every flimsy excuse she’d clung to about Rylan.
Lying in that hospital bed, dazed and aching, there had been only one person she wanted—needed.
Not because he was her friend, but because he was more.
He was the one who made her feel safe, seen, and protected in a way no one else ever had.
And when she’d called for him, he’d come.
Instantly. No hesitation, no excuses—just absolute, unshakable presence.
In the hospital, he’d been all quiet strength and gentle hands—careful when he helped her sit up, patient when she struggled to speak. The memory of his steady gaze, his warm grip on her fingers, had shattered the final fragile wall around her heart.
She loved him.
Not the dizzy infatuation she’d felt in the beginning. Not a crush she could shrug off when it became inconvenient. This was something bigger, heavier—an all-consuming pull that shifted her world until Rylan was at its center.
But love with Rylan was not simple. She knew his reputation—the man who made women feel like they were the only one in the room until he moved on to the next.
Maybe he did care for her, deeply even, but she couldn’t let herself believe it meant forever.
His nature was to leave. And that truth tasted bitter.
Still, the accident had been a brutal reminder: life was unpredictable, fragile. If she kept holding back out of fear, she’d regret it. Even if loving him ended in heartbreak, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself now.
“You need to tell him,” she whispered to her reflection, though it came out more like a plea than a vow.
The face in the mirror didn’t give her answers—just wide, uncertain eyes and bruises that hadn’t yet faded.
She tugged her sleeve down, hiding the ugly blotches mottled in sickly green and yellow.
The pain had dulled, but her arm still ached when she moved wrong.
It was a quiet reminder of how easily things could break.
Physically, she was healing. Emotionally… not so much. The unanswered questions gnawed at her. The police had called, but always for Rylan or Tom—not her. Why? It had been her accident, her car. Why was she being shut out?
She’d let Rylan take care of her for the past few days—let herself be pampered and protected—but that had to end. If she was going to feel like herself again, she needed answers. And step one was confronting him.
Drawing a deep breath, she left the bathroom and started down the stairs.
The rich aroma of something spicy and buttery curled through the air, coaxing her anger into a reluctant pause.
Over the past few days, Rylan had spoiled her—gourmet meals, hot baths, the kind of attentive care that made her feel… cherished. Maybe even adored.
And that was the problem. Every kindness was another thread binding her to him, making it harder to pull away.
She rounded the corner into the kitchen. Rylan glanced up, and his sharp, assessing eyes softened immediately when they landed on her.
“I thought I heard you moving around,” he said, sliding a tray of perfectly browned biscuits from the oven. Steam rose in delicate curls as he set it on the stove before turning back to a simmering pot.
“How do you feel today?” His voice was low, warm—like honey poured over raw nerves.
Natalie stopped in the doorway, her gaze locking on him.
His hair was damp, curling slightly at the ends, evidence of a recent shower.
He wore soft, worn jeans that rode low on his hips, and the black T-shirt clung to broad shoulders and biceps that flexed as he stirred.
She’d lived with him for nearly three days now.
She knew what was under that shirt—every carved line of muscle, every inch of heat.
Her breath caught, a flutter building in her chest as her mind whispered dangerous possibilities about what might happen if she closed the space between them.
“I feel better,” she managed, her voice softer than intended, betraying more than she wanted him to hear. “Pretty good, actually.”
He turned toward her, leaning one hip against the counter, his arms crossing loosely as his gaze swept over her. “Better isn’t good enough,” he murmured, his dark eyes scanning her face before dropping to her arm—the one she’d instinctively tucked behind her back. “Are you in any pain?”
“Not really,” she said quickly, shaking her head in a little too fast a denial. “I promise, it’s manageable. I’m fine.”
One eyebrow lifted in quiet skepticism. “You’re a terrible liar, Natalie.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “Okay, it still hurts a little, but nothing I can’t handle.” She gestured toward the biscuits cooling on the stove. “What’s on the menu today, chef?”
He let her redirect, but his gaze didn’t soften. “Biscuits, shrimp and grits, and roasted vegetables. Figured I’d try something a little heartier today.”
“Heartier?” she teased, tilting her head. “I think you’re trying to feed me into a food coma.”
His lips curved into a smirk, but the seriousness behind it made her chest ache. “I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
Her heart clenched hard enough to make her glance away.
Rylan was impossible to resist—too much heat wrapped in too much care.
She wanted to demand answers about the accident, about why the police only seemed to talk to him and Tom, but the words lodged in her throat.
Some part of her feared that pushing too hard would crack the fragile rhythm they’d fallen into.
But wasn’t she done holding back?
She straightened her shoulders, lifting her chin. What she meant to say was, “Rylan, we need to talk.” However, what came out instead was, “We need to have sex!”
Rylan went still, his head snapping toward her. For a moment, neither of them breathed.
From the corner of her eye, she caught movement—Tom stepping into the kitchen—only to grimace, mutter something under his breath, and pivot on his heel, retreating without a word.
Natalie’s palms pressed together, fingers twisting. When they brushed the tender skin of her bruised wrist, she winced. The tiny flinch was all it took to jolt Rylan out of his frozen state.
In two strides, he’d turned off the stove and rounded the island, stopping close enough that the warmth of his body wrapped around her like an unspoken challenge.
“Unless you don’t feel that way about me,” she blurted, panic making her voice softer, shakier. “If you’re serious about just being friends, then we can continue. Because you are a—”
His mouth claimed hers before she could finish, and it was nothing like a friendly kiss. No, this was a fierce, consuming collision—heat and tongue and need. The kind of kiss that stole her balance and her breath, leaving her clutching at him to stay upright.
The only part of her he touched was her mouth, but it was enough to melt her from the inside out. Carefully, she slid her arms around his neck, avoiding her injured arm, anchoring herself to him.
When he broke away, his eyes—dark and intense—locked on hers. “You haven’t recovered enough,” he rasped, voice gone rough, like gravel scraping over velvet.
“I’m fine,” she countered, her breath still uneven. “As long as you don’t hit my arm.”
He kissed her again, this time cradling her face in his hands, the pressure both protective and possessive.
It was softer now, more coaxing than demanding, but no less potent.
His mouth teased, his teeth grazed, his lips moved over hers with deliberate care, as if tasting something rare and precious.
She whimpered at the slow burn, inching closer until their bodies touched, needing that connection like air.
One of his hands slid into her hair, tilting her head back so his lips could trail down her neck.
He kissed, nipped, and lingered at the spot where her pulse raced, drawing another soft moan from her throat.
“Rylan, please,” she breathed, her voice a low plea. “Will you please take me to bed?”
“You know I want you desperately, Natalie, but you haven’t healed enough.” He breathed in, then out. “Not yet.”
Natalie glared at his back as Rylan walked over to the stove again. She watched, amused as he tried to figure out what he was looking at.
Deciding that she wasn’t going to play nice about the rejection, she turned and headed towards the stairs. “Well, if you won’t help me, then I guess I’ll just have to do this on my own.”
She heard a muttered curse followed by a sharp movement. She barely had time to brace herself before she felt Rylan’s arms scoop her up. He was careful to grab her so that her non-bruised side was against his chest and Natalie wrapped her arm around his neck.
“You don’t play fair,” Rylan muttered as he carried her up the stairs.
“Yeah, but I’m also sick and tired of trying to resist you.”
“Has it been that difficult?” he asked, kicking the door to his bedroom closed behind them. Natalie didn’t have a chance to look around. Not when he was already striding to the bed and carefully lowering her feet to the ground. “I should put you in my bed and walk away.”
Natalie panicked, placing a hand on his chest. “But you’re not going to do that, are you?”
He thought about it for a moment, so Natalie helped him decide by pulling her sweatshirt over her head and dumping it on the floor beside their feet. She stood in front of him wearing only a thin black, lace bra that barely covered her nipples.
He hissed as he drank in the sight of her and she knew she’d won. A sense of triumph, of power, washed over her as he stared down at her breasts. But he didn’t touch her. So, she reached out and lifted his hands, placing them over her breasts.
His thumbs moved to cover her nipples, teasing them as his mouth came down firmly over hers.
He was ravenous, kissing her deeply while his thumbs teased, then he pinched both before pulling the straps of her bra down, exposing her breasts to his hands.
For several minutes, he just kissed her, letting his hands explore her breasts until Natalie moaned with frustration.
Her own hands slid under his black tee-shirt, finally discovering what his skin felt like.
He was like rough silk, every inch of him heating her fingertips.
She moaned, sliding her hands higher, needing to touch more of him, all of him.
She felt his erection throb against her stomach and pressed against him while she fumbled with his tee-shirt.
“Natalie,” he groaned, taking her hands and pulling them away. “We have to slow down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Natalie had been terrified after the accident.
She’d been in a lot of pain and knew that she was lucky she hadn’t been more badly hurt, or even killed.
If it weren’t for the miracle of air bags and seat belts, she’d still be in the hospital.
The fact that she was still here and walking, gave her a new perspective.
She didn’t want to waste any more time being fearful of what might happen.
She was too terrified of what she might miss.
So, she didn’t want to slow down. In fact, she reached behind her back and, ignoring the slight twinge in her arm, released the catch on her bra.
“We’re not slowing down, Rylan.” She pulled the bra out of the way and kissed his chest. “I don’t want to wait. We don’t know how much more time we’ll have.” She meant that she didn’t know how much longer he’d want her, but Rylan took her words to mean they could die at any moment.
He bent down so that he could look into her eyes.
“You’re not going to die on me, Natalie,” he growled, then kissed her.
Hard! Then he yanked her into his arms, his hands moving over her back, her uninjured arm, lacing his fingers through her own to place her fingertips on his skin. “Touch me. Everywhere!”
She did! He reached behind his head and pulled the tee-shirt up and over, tossing it on the floor on top of her sweatshirt.
Natalie now had ample skin to kiss, touch, and explore.
Her fingers roamed across his chest, her lips following.
She heard him groan…or maybe the moan was hers as he lifted her up, his mouth latching onto her nipple.
Natalie hissed as his mouth seemed to draw a red-hot connection from her nipple to her core.
The world tilted and Natalie opened her eyes to find that she was lying on the bed with Rylan over her. He found her other nipple and nipped. Her hips rolled as she angled to press herself closer.