Chapter 22
LOCKE
She says nothing. Just slips into the back seat, legs crossed, eyes forward like I’m not even here. I slide in next to her, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin, but I keep my hands to myself — for now.
The driver is a shadow in the front seat, quiet and discreet. The silence inside the car rings even louder in my ears than the jet engines we just left behind.
Outside, Verona creeps past the windows in slow motion. Candlelight flickers on tables in crowded piazzas, where clusters of people linger over late dinners and last glasses of wine. Warmth glows from behind shuttered windows and spills over balconies heavy with flowers.
It’s the kind of beauty that asks nothing of you, just exists to be admired. Arden tries to hide it, but I see that glimmer in her eyes. She can’t get enough.
I’m not looking at any of it, not really.
I only see her.
I watch the way she bites the inside of her cheek, the tension in her shoulders, the flicker in her eyes she can’t hide. She’s trying not to betray herself, not to give anything away. But I can see the cracks forming in her armor.
The drive stretches on, agonizingly slow, until we finally roll to a stop in front of the villa.
It’s a weathered stone building, with a wrought-iron gate and candles flickering in the windows, casting jagged shadows across the ivy climbing its walls.
It’s the kind of place that would be soft and romantic if the air between us weren’t already so charged it feels ready to explode.
She steps out first, and I follow immediately, close enough to catch the sway of her hair, the jasmine scent of her perfume rolling off her body. Every step she takes is mine to anticipate. Every glance she thinks she hides, I see.
It’s almost laughable how she still carries herself with that untouchable poise, pretending she’s in control when we both know the very air between us is a live wire.
The moment we’re through the door, the energy shifts. There’s no staff. No distractions. No aisle between us. Just stone walls, low lights, and the heavy silence of the villa.
“Arden.” Her name is a low vibration in my throat. I don’t hide the hunger anymore. The flight is over. The wait is, too.
She stops, her back to me for a heartbeat before she turns. Her voice is frayed, but she’s still trying to hold the line. “We’re finally here, Locke. Like I said... go to sleep. We both should.”
She’s trying to hide behind the same dismissal she used on the plane, but here, in the shadows of the villa, it sounds more like a challenge. She’s not tired; she’s vibrating with the same restless energy that’s currently hollowing out my chest.
“That’s not going to work this time,” I murmur, closing in on her.
It only takes two steps, and I’m in her space, but she doesn’t retreat. Her ocean-blue eyes stay glued to mine, and the flame I saw at 30,000 feet is now a blazing inferno.
I take another step, forcing her back until her spine meets the cool stone wall. I don’t stop until my body forms a cage around her, arms on both sides of her head, and my hips pinning her in place.
I can feel her pulse skittering against my own. It beats at a frantic pace that tells me everything she isn’t saying.
“Go to sleep, Locke,” she whispers again, but the words lack conviction, dying in the inch of space between our lips.
“Come on, Arden. We both know that’s not what you really want.” I look down at her. There’s nowhere left for her to run. I can feel the heat radiating off her, see the way her chest rises and falls in the same frantic rhythm I’ve been tracking for hours.
“If you really want me to stop, say it.”
She doesn’t.
Doesn’t tell me to stop.
Doesn’t tell me to keep going, either.
Just tilts her chin up, never breaking eye contact, like she’s daring me to finish what I just started.
And I plan on it.
I crash into her like waves on the shore, merciless and claiming. Every nerve in my body screams to own her, to mark her, to devour her completely. I won’t stop until every inch of her is mine. Her gasp rips through me and shreds any ounce of restraint I had left.
I can’t touch her fast enough. One hand is tangled in her hair; the other is dragging down her spine, gripping her thigh. I can’t choose. I won’t. I want all of her, all at once. Every breath, every shiver, every inch of skin beneath my hands fuels a fire I can no longer contain.
I wrap my hands around the back of her thighs, lifting her without hesitation. A surprised shriek slips from her lips, adding more fuel to the fire raging inside me. She clamps her legs around me instinctively, pressing into me, and I don’t even care where the bedroom is.
I sit her on the kitchen island, her breath ragged and uneven, as my hips slide between her legs. I can feel her trembling before me, the sensation pushing me further into this feral need.
My mouth finds her neck, and her pulse is wild as I drag my teeth over the sensitive skin. Her hoodie hits the floor, then her top. I don’t know if I’m pulling them off or she is, but it doesn’t matter. I just know I need her naked. Now.
I lift her slightly, tugging her sweats down to her ankles before yanking them off and tossing them on the kitchen floor. Every movement, every piece of fabric, is mine to command.
I slide her to the edge of the counter, slipping a hand between her thighs.
A wicked smirk spreads across my face as I feel the dripping arousal there.
“How long have you been this wet for me? Since the gala? On the plane?” She stays quiet, but the look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know. I’ve been right all along.
Not wasting another second, I drop to my knees, my mouth tracing a path from her calf to the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. She moans quietly as I tease the sensitive area with my teeth and tongue. I hover there, allowing more tension to build between us.
I feel her body tense beneath my hands.
Trying to stay quiet or trying not to let me see how badly she wants this. Still grasping for some form of control, like she’s not already coming undone.
I slide my palms up the sides of her thighs and grip her hips tightly. Hard enough that she can’t move much without my permission. A shudder runs down the length of her body. Exactly.
I lower my mouth, lips brushing so close to her center that I can feel her shaking. But I don’t give her what she wants. Not yet. “You’re still trying to hold it together, aren’t you?"
She opens her mouth to reply, but the only thing that leaves it is a gasp as I bite down, hard, on the inside of her thigh, and she squirms on the counter’s edge.
I rise slightly, sliding one hand up and wrapping it firmly around her throat. Not enough to affect her breathing, but enough to get her attention. “Relax,” I whisper in her ear, “or I’ll take even longer.” She whimpers in response as I plant a soft kiss on her jaw.
Her body stills as she draws in a breath, shaky but deep, steadying herself.
“That’s right,” I murmur, “Don’t fight it.” I lower my mouth back to her skin, letting her feel every word. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, Arden. I want you to feel everything. And I want to hear how much you love it.”
Her breath hitches, a jagged sound that cuts through the silence. “Yes,” she whispers. The word sounds more like a prayer than a promise.
She leans back on her hands; her legs draped over my shoulders.
This time, I don’t tease. I dive in, my tongue flat against her entrance, gliding up to meet her clit.
A moan slips from her lips, louder now. I take her clit in my mouth, and she grinds against me, chasing more.
Her body already revealing the truth she’s tried so hard to hide.
Her body is already begging for release. I can feel it in the way her hips twitch, the breath caught in her throat, how her legs start to tense and shake.
I pull back, and she responds with a strangled noise: half moan, half protest. I press a kiss right above where she wants me most and look up at her. “Not yet.”
She’s glaring down at me, her hair wildly framing her face. Chest rising and falling like she’s about to explode. “Why?” she breathes.
I rise again, this time grabbing her wrists and pinning them in place.
“Because you’ve been playing this game for almost two weeks,” I growl, “no more lying, Arden. Not after the way you acted at the gala.” I lean in until our breaths mingle.
“I’m done watching you pretend. I’ve already admitted I’m weak for you. Now it’s your turn.”
“So, if you want to come, if you want me to take you right here, you’re going to beg for it.”
She pauses; a quiet sigh slips through her lips. Then she whispers, “I don’t beg.”
I feel another wicked grin stretch across my face. “I thought you’d say that,” I say casually, my hand drifting slowly up her thigh. “But we have all night.”
I kiss my way back down the length of her neck, lazily. I stop when I reach her breast and close my mouth around her peaking nipple, biting just enough to make her jolt.
She’ll beg; she just doesn’t know it yet.
“Fuck this,” she grits out between clenched teeth. “You’re a sadistic bastard.” We’ve been at this for what feels like hours but could just as easily have been minutes.
I glance up at her. “What I said before still stands. If you want me to stop, just say it.”
“Chinga tu madre,” is all she offers in return.
Her breathing is ragged now. Her eyes stay closed as she lies across the island, a thin layer of sweat making her golden skin glisten in the candlelight's glow.
“Fuck, Arden. You can insult me all you want if it sounds like that.”
My hand slides between her thighs again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this tonight. I tease two fingers around her entrance before slowly slipping them inside and curving them against her.
My tongue glides over the sensitive skin near her hipbone, and I feel her body arch. “You really are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” I feel the corners of my mouth lift and twist into a feral grin.
I slowly taste her, sucking her clit into my mouth while my fingers slide in and out of her lazily. It doesn’t take long before her hips are arching into me, chasing the very thing she still refuses to ask for.
I pull away. Standing over her for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, my finger traces the delicate curve of her jaw. My hand slides to her chin, turning her face to meet mine. “Open for me.”
Surprisingly, she obeys, opening her mouth for me. Her blue eyes stay pinned to mine as I press my fingers, coated in the salt and heat of her own body, into it.
She seals her lips, and I feel the slide of her tongue as I pull my fingers back.
That single act is enough to push me over the edge. I groan as my cock strains against my zipper. But this isn’t about me. It’s always been about her.
“Just wanted you to know how delicious you are. I could stay here until sunrise.”
She holds my gaze, one last flicker of defiance in her eyes before the fight drains out of her all at once.
Her head tilts back, exposing the line of her throat, and her lips part.
And then… soft, broken, and furious.
“Please,” she breathes.
I pause, waiting for more.
“Please, what?” I ask.
She pushes herself up on her elbows; her knuckles white against the stone countertop as she anchors herself. Her chest heaves with a sharp inhale, her gaze searching mine with a desperation she can’t deny.
“Please let me come, Locke.”
My smile widens. “Anything for you, Arden. All you had to do was ask.”
She lets out a groan. “You’re insufferable!”
Then, her eyes flutter shut in a silent, heavy admission of defeat. I move one hand down to grip the soft heat of her thigh and drop my mouth back to where she’s soaked and aching for me.
She moans as if I’ve shattered something deep inside of her as her body finally finds release. Her back arches against me, and her fingers tangle in my hair as her thighs tremble against my shoulders.
The sound of it, the raw, broken edges of her voice, feeds a hunger in me I didn’t even know was there. A flush of heat spreads from the base of my throat, and my cock presses harder against my zipper. I ignore it, admiring her instead.
Exhaustion has finally won. As she lies across the island, a single tear escapes her eye, tracking a slow, silver line down her temple and disappearing into her hair. It’s the first thing she hasn’t tried to hide from me. The mask hasn’t just slipped; it’s shattered.
Seeing her like this, stripped of every defense, I realize the only thing left to do is protect what’s left. Without a word, I step closer, closing the distance she’s kept between us for weeks. I reach for her, sliding my hands beneath her knees and shoulders, and scoop her into my arms.
As I carry her down the dimly lit hallway, the only sound is the rhythmic, heavy thud of my shoes against the wood and her soft, shallow breath against my neck.
She feels fragile like this, finally settled against me with her forehead resting in the hollow of my throat. Surprisingly, she doesn’t protest.
When we get to the main bedroom, I turn toward the ensuite. I set her down gently on the lid of the closed toilet as I start the water in the large clawfoot tub.
The room fills with steam, blurring the edges of the mirrors. She just watches me with dazed, quiet eyes, looking like she’s lost her place in the world now that she’s stopped resisting the pull between us. For the first time, she isn’t looking for an exit; she’s just looking at me.
Once the tub is full, I reach out and lift her again. Her head falls naturally against my shoulder as I lower her into the heat of the water. Any leftover tension finally drains out of her in a single, heavy slump, her muscles going slack as the warmth envelops her.
I linger for a second, my hand resting on the porcelain rim, watching her sink into the water. For a moment, I just let myself look at her without the weight of our history pulling at us. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, before pulling back.
“I’ll have some clothes waiting for you on the bed when you’re finished,” I murmur as I turn to leave the room. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”