Chapter 15
Jalen
I kept replaying everything she had told me on that balcony.
The city lights had stretched out beneath us, the whiskey warm in my chest, and then she said it so quietly I almost missed it.
There was an incident.
At first I thought it was something small. Something awkward or uncomfortable that had made her step away from the nightlife scene.
But when she said the word assault, the air around me had changed.
I could still feel the way my body had tensed when she told me.
The name she finally gave me echoed in my head long after she finished speaking.
Darren Hill.
Hall of Fame quarterback. Network darling. One of the most recognizable faces in sports media.
And apparently the kind of man who hid behind that reputation.
My hands had clenched so tightly around the arms of the chair I barely noticed.
All I could think about was the picture she painted.
Her alone.
Hurt.
And someone thinking they could get away with it.
It took everything in me not to get in my car right then and go find the guy.
But Mars had asked me not to.
And something about the way she looked at me when she said that made it clear this wasn’t a request.
It was a boundary.
So I swallowed the anger and let the silence sit between us while the city buzzed below.
Even then, all I could think about was how someone had taken advantage of her trust.
How someone had made her feel like she needed to shrink her world to feel safe.
I didn’t like imagining her hurt.
Didn’t like it at all.
That was the moment I realized something I probably should have noticed earlier.
This wasn’t just some publicity arrangement to me anymore.
Not even close.
Then everything shifted.
One minute we were talking about things that still made her voice go quiet.
The next minute I was standing in her bedroom watching her pull that oversized sweatshirt over her head.
And every rational thought I had left my body.
Mars looked… unreal.
The soft candlelight from the nightstand flickered across her skin while the glow of the city slipped through the curtains behind her. The lace she wore looked like it had been designed specifically for her body, every curve fitting it perfectly.
I had seen beautiful women before.
That came with the territory of being in the public eye.
But something about the way she looked standing there in her own space, relaxed and confident and just a little playful…
It was different.
Real.
When she lifted the glass of whiskey to my lips and leaned in to steal the taste back from me, I felt a low sound leave my chest before I could stop it.
And the way she smiled when she heard it told me she liked knowing she could affect me like that.
From there things moved fast.
And slow at the same time.
I remember thinking how careful she was with me at first, like she was testing the edges of something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.
So I let her set the pace.
Watched her.
Followed her lead.
The moment we ended up back on her couch I realized I was in trouble.
Because I didn’t want the night to end.
I wanted more of her.
The way she laughed softly when I said something ridiculous.
The way she looked at me like she was still trying to figure me out.
And when we finally made it to her bed, every instinct I had told me to slow down.
To make sure she knew she was safe.
Every touch felt like a conversation.
Every breath shared between us felt intentional.
And the way she looked at me in those quiet moments in between… that stayed with me the most.
Like she wasn’t pretending anymore either.
The night stretched on in warm pieces of laughter and closeness.
At some point the candles burned lower and the city outside her windows quieted down.
But inside that room it felt like time had stopped entirely.
I remember the last thing I saw before sleep finally caught up with me.
Mars curled against my chest.
Her breathing slow.
One arm draped lazily across my waist like she had fallen asleep there without even thinking about it.
And for the first time in a long time, the noise in my own head went quiet.
For a few hours, everything felt simple.
Just the two of us.
And the quiet understanding that whatever had started between us that night was no longer pretending to be anything else.
Morning came quietly.
The first thing I noticed was warmth.
Mars was curled beside me, one arm resting across my chest like she had fallen asleep there without realizing it. Her hair had slipped loose from the bun she’d worn the night before, dark strands spread across the pillow.
For a few seconds I just watched her breathe.
Peaceful.
Relaxed.
The kind of calm you only see when someone finally feels safe enough to let their guard down.
I slid carefully out of the bed, making sure not to wake her. The sheets shifted slightly as I stood, the early sunlight filtering through the curtains and spilling softly across the room.
Her bedroom was quiet.
The city outside hadn’t fully woken up yet.
I padded into the bathroom and turned on the large soaking tub, letting hot water run deep into it. Steam began to rise slowly, curling against the mirrors.
I adjusted the temperature until it was warm enough to be relaxing but cool enough that it would settle by the time she woke up.
Then I left the bathroom door cracked so the steam could drift out.
Atlas lifted his head the second I stepped into the living room.
The tabby cat blinked at me like he was deciding whether I belonged there or not.
“Morning,” I murmured.
I reached down and lightly scratched the top of his head.
He leaned into it like he approved.
Good enough for me.
The kitchen felt surprisingly easy to navigate.
Mars kept things neat, organized in a way that made it simple to find what I needed. Within a few minutes I had eggs cooking in the pan, toast warming, and fresh fruit sliced neatly onto a plate.
The smell filled the apartment.
I moved around the space like I’d been there before, grabbing plates and silverware, pouring juice and coffee onto a tray.
Just as I finished setting the last piece down, I heard soft footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Mars stood in the doorway of the hallway, the sheet from the bed wrapped loosely around her body. Her eyes were still wide with sleep, hair slightly messy in the way that somehow made her look even more beautiful than the night before.
For a second she just stared at me.
Then a small smile spread across her mouth.
“You’re cooking?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
She laughed softly, rubbing one eye as she stepped closer.
“I wasn’t expecting breakfast.”
“Well,” I said, picking up the tray, “I did.”
She watched me for a moment longer, that sleepy smile still lingering on her lips.
Then I nodded toward the hallway.
“Come on.”
She followed me curiously until we reached the bathroom.
When she saw the tub already filled with warm water, her eyebrows lifted slightly.
“You ran me a bath?”
“Thought it might be nice.”
She looked at me for a second, her dark eyes intense and unblinking, like she was actively deciding whether to argue or not.
The silent negotiation stretched between us, thick with a sudden, electric heat that made the rest of the penthouse completely disappear.
Then, she let the sheet slip gently from her shoulders.
The fabric settled around her, the quiet of the penthouse amplifying the shared look between us. It was a moment of rare, unscripted honesty, far removed from the high-stakes world we usually navigated. The air felt heavy with a newfound understanding, as if the silence was speaking for both of us.
"Get in with me." She didn't ask; she stated it, her voice dropping into a quiet, dangerous register that made my pulse completely hammer against my ribs.
I didn't hesitate. I crossed the floor in two strides, reaching down to slide my hands beneath her waist and lift her up. Mars gasped softly, her fingers digging into my shoulders as she instinctively wrapped her legs around me.
The air in the room felt heavy with anticipation as I carried her back toward the bathroom, the warmth from the steam already meeting us.
As the last of the distance between us vanished, the quiet intimacy of the moment took hold.
Standing there in the soft light, I was completely captivated by her, the reality of the moment far exceeding anything I had imagined.
Neither of us rushed.
We stepped into the large tub together, the water warm and relaxing as we settled in.
It was deeper than I expected, wide enough that we could sit comfortably without bumping elbows.
Mars leaned back against the smooth edge of the tub with a quiet sigh. “This is nice,” she murmured, her eyes closing as the warm water settled around her.
I grabbed the washcloth from the side of the tub and dipped it into the water, letting it soak through. “Lean forward.”
She raised an eyebrow, a familiar, playful spark returning to her expression, but she did it anyway.
We took turns washing each other’s shoulders, the heavy tension from the club completely dissolving into the rising steam.
We laughed occasionally when one of us splashed too much water or bumped the other’s knee in the deep tub, the sounds echoing softly against the tile.
The quiet ease between us felt entirely different than it had the night before.
Softer. More comfortable. Like something fundamental had shifted while we slept, leaving behind the need for strategies or performance.
Eventually, we dried off and wandered back through the apartment.
Mars changed into loose lounge clothes while I carried the breakfast tray out to the balcony.
The morning sun had climbed higher now, lighting up the skyline in warm goldShe stepped outside a minute later, sitting across from me in one of the large patio chairs.
We ate slowly.
Talking.
Laughing.
Sometimes just sitting quietly while the city moved below us, the morning light washing over the balcony railing.
And the strange thing was how natural it all felt.
Like this wasn’t the morning after something incredibly complicated.