Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
BASTION
She sang in the shower again.
It was past midnight. The house was dark. I’d gone to the kitchen for water, but the sound stopped me in the hall.
Soft, breathy notes.
Not perfect. Not even close.
But real .
Carefree .
Like she wasn’t in the middle of a war zone with our name carved into every wall.
I leaned against the doorframe, closing my eyes.
I hated that I liked it.
I hated that I waited for it.
I hated her — how she moved into our dorm and made it feel smaller.
Made it smell like vanilla and rosewater and shampoo that cost more than my motorcycle.
Took up space in our rooms, our routine, our bedroom — without ever asking.
And worst of all ?
No one stopped her.
Not even me.
The water shut off. I stepped back, into the shadows, just as the door creaked open.
And then I saw her.
Satin.
Black.
Thin straps slipping down her shoulders.
The nightgown clung to her hips like it had been poured on , I could see the curve of her nipples through the silk.
And I couldn’t fucking breathe .
She walked down the hall slowly, humming to herself again.
Hair twisted up in a towel.
She didn’t see me.
She went straight to o ur room.
I followed. Losing grip with every step.
The bedroom door was cracked open, soft light from her phone charger painting the walls pink .
She stood near the window, eyes on the gardens.
Her skin glowed under the moonlight.
“You always walk around like that?” I said, voice low.
She turned, startled, clutching her towel to her chest. “Bastion—God—you scared me.”
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. And I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
Her skin was still flushed from the heat of the shower.
“You planning on wearing that around everyone?” I asked.
She looked down at herself. “It’s just a nightgown.”
I swallowed hard.
The word didn’t do it justice.
It wasn’t just silk — it was sin .
I could see the outline of her breasts, the slope of her waist, every inch that is off-limits .
I should’ve told her to change.
To cover up.
To stop .
But I didn’t.
Because I liked it.
And I hated myself for that.
I clenched my jaw and looked away. “Use our ensuite,” the words came out harder than I wanted. Fuck. I hadn’t planned on saying anything.
But the thought of her walking down the hall every night, looking like that, walking past my cousins rooms. It wouldn’t take long before they started making excuses to go in there.
She stared at me a moment longer — like she was trying to decide if I was joking.
She nodded and worse, she smiled. Fuck. My. Life.
Then, quietly, she turned away and climbed into her bed.
The sheets slid over her thighs. She laid on her side, back to me, fabric stretched tight over her hips.
That’s when the door opened again.
Luca walked in, late, he had been running a lot more since she moved in. Slowly driving us both insane.
His steps slowed the second he saw her.
His bed right next to mine, which meant, all he could see was her . Curled up. Satin clinging. Back arched slightly. One bare leg hooked over the sheets.
I saw it in his face — the flicker of something dark, possessive, maybe even worse than what I was feeling.
Because I knew Luca.
And when we wanted the same thing?
It never ended clean .
She was already awake when I opened my eyes. The satin nightgown was gone — dropped onto the bed in a careless puddle of sin .
She was naked from the waist up.
Fuck.
I turned my head toward the wall. Tried to. Didn’t make it all the way.
Luca was awake too. I felt it. The silence that wasn’t sleep, but focus . Twin tension ran like a wire between us.
We both breathed a little too quietly.
Both kept our eyes too still.
We were pretending to be asleep.
Pretending not to see the curve of her spine, the soft sway of her hips, the way she bent to dig through her drawer.
I kept my eyes cracked open just enough to watch her reflection in the mirror above my dresser.
She didn’t know .
Or maybe she did .
Fuck. The more I stared at her breasts the harder it was to stay still. Why would she be standing there topless. Did she have any mercy. We had already survived a night of her sleeping on top of the blankets, that satin not covering her ass half the night.
I caught Luca glancing too. We were raised in sync, wired in tension, and right now, both of us were fighting the same losing battle: control .
She pulled a tank top over her head.
Slow. Lazy .
As if she had all the time in the world to get changed and didn’t care we could roll over and see her any minute .
The hem caught at her waist, showing off that soft little dip where her stomach met her hip bones.
Then the towel dropped.
And I swear to God I stopped breathing .
Tiny lace panties. White .
Soft. So small they barely counted.
She didn’t even pause — just stepped into a pair of high-waisted shorts like she wasn’t setting fire to the whole room.
My mouth was dry. My fingers gripped the edge of the sheet like I could strangle the heat out of myself.
She turned.
“Morning,” she said softly, smiling like it was nothing . “I didn’t wake you, did I?”
I closed my eyes fully. “No.”
Her voice was light. “I’m heading down to breakfast. Want me to bring you anything?”
I forced myself to roll onto my back. Opened my eyes.
She was standing between our beds, brushing her fingers through her hair like a halo wasn’t already glowing over her head.
Why. Why did she have to be so damn sweet.
Her tank top had twisted slightly, giving me the perfect side view of her breast. Of course she didn’t fix it. Just stood between our beds as if she belonged here.
“No,” I said, voice tight.
She looked to Luca. “Coffee?”
He nodded without opening his eyes.
She beamed. “Got it.”
And just like that, she left.
The second it closed, Luca sat up. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You were awake the whole time.”
“So were you.”
“She knew . ”
“No,” I said quietly. “She didn’t.”
“She’s wearing white lace , Bastion.”
“Yeah.” I stared at the ceiling. “I noticed .”
We sat there in silence. Then I got out of bed, grabbed my towel, and went to take the coldest shower of my life.