Chapter 18 Ben #2
When I couldn’t? He stopped trying. Not all at once, but in pieces, quiet, steady decay. He let the house rot. Let the bills pile up. Let the debt swallow us whole.
I tried. I tried, Lila.
I worked. Any job I could find. I held it all together until it all slipped through my fingers anyway.
The house. Gone.
The life I thought we had. Gone.
I was just a kid, standing in the ruins, with nothing left to give.
No home. No future. No plan.
Lila?
She was everything I couldn’t keep.
Everything I didn’t deserve.
So I left.
Not because I didn’t love her, but because I did. Because I couldn’t stand to look at her and know what I’d lost. Because pride, stupid, reckless pride, convinced me it was better to walk away than let her see how far I’d fallen.
Now she’s standing here, looking at me like I’m some villain hell-bent on destroying her world, when all I’ve ever done is destroy mine.
Something hot and violent burns in my chest.
I reach blindly for the nearest object, a cup, hurling it across the room. It shatters against the wall, shards scattering across the floor.
Lila jumps.
“You think I’d burn everything down just to get even? You think I hate you that much?”
Her breath stutters, but she says nothing.
So I keep going. Voice low, wrecked. Raw.
“I don’t hate you, Lila. I never fucking did.”
She looks at me, stricken. Lost.
She swallows, but she doesn’t answer.
That’s all it takes for me to break.
I let out a sharp breath, hands flexing at my sides. Lila’s brows pull together, and I shake my head, laughing bitterly, running a hand over my face like I can scrub away the weight pressing down on me.
She wants the truth?
She can have it.
I step even closer, towering over her, forcing her to see the wreckage she left behind.
Her breath catches.
“You want to know the real reason I left?” My voice drops lower, rougher. “Because I couldn’t stand being near you.”
She flinches, and it guts me. But I’m too far gone to stop now.
“I couldn’t look at you without thinking about everything I lost. Everything I should have had. You were the one thing in my life that felt real, and I—” My throat closes, but I force the words out. “I couldn’t have you.”
She blinks, her breath shuddering. “Ben…”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. Dark. Fucking broken.
“You were everything good, and I was drowning.” I shake my head. “You deserved better.”
She stares at me, eyes wide, raw, full of something I can’t name.
Her face twists, her hands trembling, her lips parting like she’s about to say something.
But she doesn’t.
She just breaks and fuck, I feel it.
Like a live wire sparking between us, like something that’s been stretched too tight for too long finally snaps.
I don’t think.
I move.
I grab her. Pull her in. Drag her into me, against me, into this fucking mess of who we are.
Her breath stutters, but I don’t stop.
I press my forehead to hers, my pulse roaring, my hands shaking as I grip her waist, holding on like she’s the only thing keeping me from coming undone.
My voice is raw, hoarse, wrecked.
“I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”
Lila lets out a sharp exhale, like the words hit her straight in the chest. Like they destroy her.
Her hands tighten on my shirt, her whole body tensed, conflicted, fucking unravelling.
“All these years, Lila.” I shake my head, my breath ragged, lips barely brushing hers. “I tried to forget. I tried to move on. I tried—” My throat locks up, but I force it out. “But I never stopped.”
A choked sound escapes her. A gasp. A sob. A plea. Her fingers fist my shirt, yanking me closer, and I groan into her mouth, my hands sliding into her hair, tilting her head back so I can devour her.
I feel her shudder. Feel her surrender.
Because this isn’t careful.
This is pent-up rage and years of regret.
This is everything we’ve never said, everything we’ve never let ourselves feel.
I back her up against the counter, her legs parting as I step between them, pressing against her, grounding myself in her.
She moans, soft and breathless, and fuck, it wrecks me.
I drag my lips from hers, pressing kisses down her jaw, her throat, the place where her pulse is hammering, just as frantic as mine.
Her hands slide into my hair, pulling, needing, holding. I know it now.
I feel it now.
Lila’s breath is ragged, her body pressed tight against mine, but neither of us pulls away.
There’s no hesitation.
No second-guessing.
Just need.
Raw. Overwhelming. Undeniable.
I grab her thighs, lifting her onto the counter, her legs wrapping around me like she’s meant to be there.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, her chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths. Her lips are swollen, her eyes, dark, hungry but more than that, wrecked.
Just like me.
I can’t stop.
I don’t even try.
My hands are on her, pushing up her skirt, shoving fabric out of the way, needing…
Fuck. I can’t breathe.
This isn’t about patience.
This isn’t about teasing.
This is years of longing, years of loss, years of fucking restraint snapping all at once.
I fumble with my jeans, yanking them open, every muscle in my body tightly coiled, aching.
Lila gasps as I grip her hips, my forehead pressed against hers, our breaths tangled, our bodies trembling.
She shifts, aligns and then, I’m inside her.
Deep.
Home.
Lila cries out, her head falling back, her fingers clutching me like she’ll never let go.
I let out a strangled groan, my arms bracing against the counter, holding us both together, because fuck she’s tight, she’s warm, she’s everything and I’m already losing my mind.
Her legs tighten around me, her hips tilting, desperate for more and I give it to her.
Fast. Hard. Right.
She clings to me, gasping my name, shaking with every thrust.
The cafe is silent except for the sound of us, harsh breaths, desperate moans, bodies colliding, breaking, burning.
It’s reckless. It’s rushed.
But it’s also inevitable.
Her fingers curl at the back of my neck, dragging me down, kissing me like she needs me to survive. Maybe we both do.
I press my forehead against hers, my breath ragged, my hands tightening around her waist, holding her exactly where I need her.
“You feel this?” I growl, voice raw, desperate. “This is real. This is us.”
She whimpers, her legs locked around me, pulling me deeper, demanding more.
I give it to her.
“You were made for me.” My voice is a snarl, my lips brushing hers, teasing, taunting, owning.
Her head falls back, a wrecked moan tearing from her throat.
I drag my teeth over her jaw, biting down just enough to make her cry out, to make her feel me.
“Mine—”
Her entire body trembles, tightens, fucking bows into me.
“Say it,” I growl, breath hot, breathless. “Say it, Lila.”
Her voice is wrecked, shattered, trembling on a whimper.
“I was always yours.”
I lose it.
I slam into her harder, rougher, hungrier, like it’s not just her body I want, but her soul. Like I’m trying to bury myself inside her, claim her from the inside out, until there’s no space left that doesn’t have my name carved into it.
The sound of us is savage, wet, filthy, desperate. Skin slapping. Breaths breaking. Curses whispered between clenched teeth.
I slide a hand into her hair, tilting her head back, forcing her to see me, to feel me, to know this isn’t just sex.
It’s a fucking undoing.
A surrender.
I watch her fall apart, feel her tighten around me, her body clenching, trembling, wrecked. It slams into me, a violent, blinding, full-body release that knocks the breath from my lungs, rips a guttural, raw, fucking primal sound from my throat.
I bury myself deep, my entire body locking up, shaking, burning as I spill into her, wave after wave of pure, uncontrollable pleasure tearing through me.
It’s not just an orgasm.
It’s an exorcism.
Like fifteen years of want, of need, of frustration finally breaking free, ripping me apart, leaving me ruined inside her.
I sag against her, my forehead pressing into her shoulder, my chest heaving, my hands still gripping her like I can’t let go.
Because I can’t.
Because I never fucking could.