Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Christine
Everything blurs.
My breath catches against him, jagged, and for a second my body is caught between instinct and resistance, between memory and the present.
I don’t mean to, but I respond.
God… I respond.
My mouth parts for him, for the heat of his breath, for the way it fills me before his tongue follows, sliding in and meeting mine in a clash that makes no sense and feels entirely right at the same time.
It’s chaos.
Perfect, consuming chaos.
Like something inside me bursts to life all at once, bright and overwhelming, like fireworks going off beneath my skin.
My fingers curl into his shirt, gripping without thought, pulling him closer when I should be pushing him away.
I feel a consuming simmer flood through me, rushing too fast, spreading from my chest down my spine, curling around my waist before spilling into my core in a way that makes my breath stutter again.
It’s been years. Years since I’ve let anyone this close.
His hand pulls at my waist, smothering me into him, eliminating the last bit of space I could’ve used to think, to stop this, to remember why I shouldn’t be here.
My body leans into it instead.
Traitor.
We are both panting into the kiss, teeth working against tongue and lips, both intoxicated by lust and desire. Both burning.
My nipples harden, mirroring the hardness of him I feel against my stomach. My sex burns with the same heat I feel under his touch.
I hate how easily it comes back.
The way I fit into this.
The way he knows exactly how to take, how to pull, how to make everything else fall away until it’s just him, just the longing building, just the rhythm my body falls into like it never forgot.
I give in completely, letting it take me.
The noise from the reception is gone. The world narrows. My senses blur at the edges, everything pointing only where he touches, where he moves, where he’s taking me.
Until my senses snap back in place. Almost like a thread pulled to its limit.
My breath breaks as awareness crashes back in, and I jerk away from him, my chest rising too fast, my mind catching up all at once to what I just did.
To what I just let happen.
“What the hell…” I don't complete my sentence before my hand moves.
I swing a punch at him, anger driving it, shame chasing right behind.
But he catches it, stopping my wrist mid-air, trapped in his grip, my breath still bursting out of me, my pulse loud in my ears as I stare at him, furious. Shaken.
And far too aware of everything I just gave away.
“Burn, Robert.” I rip my hand away, turning to leave.
But I don’t get far. Before I can step back, before I can reset, his hand catches me by the wrist, turning me, shifting everything in one smooth motion until my back is against the car again, the cool metal pressing through the thin silk of my dress.
My breath stutters.
“Robert…”
My words cut off as he pins my wrists, pulling them behind me, holding them there with one hand, firm enough to stop me, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me I’m not in control of this moment.
And that’s exactly the problem.
“Let go of me,” I snap, twisting against him, trying to pull free, but it only makes his grip tighten, his body closing in, smothering me in a way I don’t want.
Because I know this feeling.
I know what comes after it.
And my body is already reacting.
“Christine,” he coos, like he’s speaking over the chaos instead of into it.
“Don’t,” I warn, my voice biting now as I struggle again, my heels scraping slightly against the ground as I try to shift, to break free.
But he doesn’t let me.
And it pulls me back to that night. Back to the way he held me, moved me, took control like it was the most natural thing in the world.
My heart beat is deafening, my pulse racing, want rushing through me in waves I don’t want, don’t need.
“Stop fighting,” his voice dips.
“I’m not…” I start, but the words break as my body betrays me again and I’m squirming, twisting against him, trying to find space where there isn’t any.
He doesn’t let me.
In one smooth motion, he turns me, bending me forward before I can catch my balance, my palms bracing instinctively against the car.
The sudden shift knocks the breath from my chest, my dress pulling around my thighs as I try to push back up.
“Robert…” My protest cuts short, because his hand gathers the fabric of my dress, pulling it up, fast enough that my body jolts in response before my mind can catch up.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Too late.
His hand comes down against my butt cheek, the sting snapping through me, stealing the rest of my breath as my fingers press harder against the metal beneath me.
Another, sending something spiraling through me, something I don’t want, something I don’t have time to fight off before it wraps around my sex.
“Behave,” he murmurs, his words hitting harder than the contact.
My body reacts, going still.
My fingers curl against the car, my head dipping slightly as my breathing shifts, as everything inside me pulls in two directions at once.
To fight or to fall.
And for one dangerous second, I stop fighting.
“Tell me you want my touch, Bonbon,” he breathes against the nape of my neck, his voice slipping under my skin. “Tell me you want me.”
I bite down on my teeth even though I know I’m far gone. I’m wet, the want pulling, aching in a way that feels both painful and good.
“Say it,” he murmurs, closer now. “And I’ll give you exactly how you like it. Hard, deep… until you come for me.”
I imagine it for a second.
The rhapsody of him. The way he takes, the way I break.
I want that.
I want him.
But… I can’t.
“No,” I answer, slicing through whatever haze was forming.
I twist hard this time, ripping myself out of his hold, and he lets me.
And somehow, that makes it worse.
Because now nothing is holding me in place but myself, and I feel it all at once. The heat still clinging to my skin, the echo of his touch, the way my body hasn’t fully shuffled back into something I recognize.
I hate it.
I hate him for it.
“You don’t get to do that,” I snap, my voice blaring, my chest heaving as I take another step back, putting distance between us like it’ll fix something.
“You said, and that's fine, baby.”
“Don’t,” I cut in, holding a hand up like I can stop him from speaking. “Don’t stand there and say baby like this is normal. Like this is okay.”
He doesn’t move. He just watches me.
And it makes everything in me feel louder.
“Calm down,” he coos.
“Calm down?” I repeat, my voice lifting, disbelief bleeding into it. “You just…”
I stop, dragging a hand through my hair, frustration spilling over.
“You think this is a game?” I fight back, my voice dropping now, but shaking underneath. “You show up, you disappear, you drag me back into whatever this is, and I’m just supposed to what? Fall into place?”
His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes dim.
“I’m not playing games with you.”
“Oh, really?” I scoff, the sound breaking slightly as I shake my head. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’ve been caught in one since the beginning.”
I blink hard, trying to stop it, dragging my focus somewhere else, anywhere else that isn't the tears swelling up my chest.
Not in the middle of a parking lot in a dress that Alicia spent hours making sure is perfect.
“Great,” I mutter under my breath, swiping quickly under my eyes before anything can fall. “That’s exactly what I need.
I turn slightly, angling away from him, using the reflection on the car window to check my makeup.
“Don’t cry,” I mumble to myself. “Don’t, okay?”
“Christine.” His voice is closer now.
I inhale slowly, forcing it down, forcing everything down, then turn back to him, my eyes still bright, my control thinner but not gone.
“You and him,” I start with no detours. “You’re related to Daniel.”
He nods.
“That was it?” My voice cracks at the edge despite my trying to keep it calm. “Some kind of sick arrangement? He hands me over and you what? Take what you want?”
“That’s not what happened.”
“That’s exactly what it looks like,” I shoot back immediately, stepping closer this time, anger pushing me forward instead of back. “You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence? That you just happened to show up that night, that he just happened to…”
“He didn’t pass you to me.” He clips, his jaw clenching.
“Then explain it,” I challenge, my voice lower now, more dangerous. “Because it feels like I was passed between you.”
“I saw you.” His gaze holds mine. Unflinching. “And I wanted you.”
My heart flips.
“And you just happened to be with him,” he continues. “That’s where it starts and ends.”
“That’s supposed to make it better?” I laugh, but it’s weak, thin.
“It’s supposed to make it clear.”
“It doesn’t,” I shake my head, frustration rising again. “It doesn’t make anything clear.”
“It should.”
“It doesn’t,” I repeat, my voice bristling. “Because I didn’t ask for any of that. I didn’t ask to be dragged into whatever world you exist in.”
He closes the distance, slowly this time. Like he knows I’ll see it coming and still won’t step away.
His hand lifts, brushing lightly against my jaw, tilting my face just enough before his lips press against my cheek.
I turn my face away immediately, refusing it, refusing him, refusing what that almost does to me.
“You’ve done well with the event.” His breath lingers near my skin anyway. “Enjoy it.”
“Thank you.”
He presses another kiss, softer this time, and it feels like a parting kiss. And a part of me doesn’t want him to go yet.
This tug of war inside me is driving me insane.
I want him.
I don’t.
Both feelings are pulling in opposite directions, neither willing to give way.
I turn my face, catching his lips with mine before I can stop myself, before I can think better of it.
“Are you dating now?” His voice drops, brushing over my lips.
I scoff, folding my arms like that can protect me, like it can hide anything.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Answer me.” His gaze shifts, narrowing just enough to say he caught it, to say he knows what I didn’t say out loud.
“It was one night, Robert.” I lift my chin. “I moved on.”
It sounds right.
It isn’t.
“Little liar.” He smiles, and in a second, my back meets the car, the impact knocking the breath from my chest just enough to disorient me before he’s there, closing in, erasing distance like it was never real.
“Robert…” My voice breaks on his name.
Because I feel it again.
That same dangerous current dragging me under before I can plant my feet against it.
My hands come up, pressing against him, but there’s no strength in them, no real resistance, not when my body is already responding, already remembering, already leaning in.
“Against this car, right now, right here?” He asks, waiting.
I’m breathing hard, so hard. Like a virus, the desire to have him inside me consumes me completely, eating away the last part of my restraint.
“Say yes.” His hand moves, dragging under my dress. “You’re already wet for me.” His hand stops between my legs, fingers sliding across my wetness through the fabric of my thong.
I moan, gripping his jacket, leaning forward as the pleasure overrides my senses.
“I’m waiting.”
My breath catches. My body answers before my mind does.
“Yes.”
That’s all it takes.
His mouth crashes against mine, my hands gripping, pulling him closer, closer, like I can’t get enough, like I never could.
My thong is ripped, his fingers stroking my clit. My hands gripping and dragging his hair and shirt.
In a breath, I’m undone, and one of my legs is wrapped around him. In another, he’s sliding inside me, ripping apart what has been closed for four years.
I scream, clamping a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet as pain and pleasure sprint through me.
The rush is blinding.
Inducing.
Provocative.
He doesn’t slow down or let it build. He gives it to me just how I want it. How I've imagined it for years.
Fast. Relentless. Like he’s chasing something and I’m right there with him, caught in it, dragged deeper with every second that passes.
My breath breaks, again and again, my fingers gripping hair, my body giving in completely, moving with him.
It’s too much.
Too fast.
Too consuming.
I can’t think or hold onto anything.
And without warning, I detonate, a scream tearing out of me before I can stop it, my hand flying to my mouth too late.
My entire body breaks under the force of it, the impact ripping through me like something violent, bright and impossible to contain.
A few more rough, unsteady plunges, and he follows.
It hits him the way it hit me; hard, immediate, pulling something out of him he doesn’t bother to hide.
His head dips, his breath breaking against my skin, his grip tightening like he needs something to hold onto too.
Our chests heave, our breathing jagged, fingers still dug into skin like we forgot how to let go.
And all I can feel is it.
The aftermath.
The way something inside me has been forced open again.
Something I sealed.
Something I buried.
Something I wasn’t ready to face.
And now, I don’t know how to close it again.
Or if I want to.