True Affliction - Chapter 17

Careful, reader… this is the chapter where he stops knocking, she stops pretending, and if you weren’t already a little undone by them, you absolutely will be now.

My flat was dark when I stepped inside.

Dark, and too quiet.

I kicked off my heels by the door, my legs barely remembering how to hold me up, and leaned back against the door as it clicked shut. My breath came shallow, uneven, the ghost of his kiss still burning across my lips.

I couldn’t shake the look on his face in the car, the shift in him. That brutal, unbending man who drove me insane with his control… broken open, if only for seconds. His hands white on the wheel, his voice raw, his shoulders heavy like the weight of letting me go was more than he could carry.

It rattled me. Christ, it shook me harder than his temper ever could. Because fury I can fight. Obsession I can argue down. But that. That brokenness. It slipped under my skin, lodged somewhere I couldn’t reach.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing the back of my head to the door.

He was seeing his sister. That’s all. Nothing scandalous. Nothing shameful. A dinner obligation at nine sharp, not a woman waiting for him in candlelight.

And still… if I let myself exhale just because it wasn’t another woman then I was more gone than I thought.

My laugh came out brittle, catching in my throat. More gone than I thought? I was already halfway lost.

I pushed off the door, peeling myself into the stillness of the flat. I didn’t bother with lights. Shadows suited me better tonight.

But there was no escaping the reel in my head. His mouth, his hands, the way he’d bent me over my own desk as though it was his right. My skin still burned from every strike of his palm, my body still trembling from the way he forced the words out of me.

And God help me, the memory made me wet all over again.

I gripped the back of the sofa, my knees weak at the thought of his voice. That rough, lethal growl in my ear, demanding, relentless. His mouth worshipping me, devouring me, making me scream. And then-

Oscar.

My stomach twisted.

The image of his pale face in the doorway hit me like a fist. The shock stamped over his smug features as Alex took me, merciless, unyielding, never once stopping.

Shame tore through me.

But there was more.

A rush of heat beneath it that I hated myself for. A thrill. The horror of knowing he’d seen me like that. Sprawled, broken open, begging. The horror of knowing Alex hadn’t flinched. That he’d wanted Oscar to see.

I dropped onto the sofa, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

He’d marked me. Not just my skin, my life.

And then there was this morning. The session.

I’d sat there, professional, clinical, asking him questions that went nowhere. And he’d stared at me. Refusing every word like it cost him nothing.

Except I knew better.

The silence wasn’t blank. It was screaming. He’d sat there with those blue eyes locked to mine, daring me to push, daring me to break first. And I’d felt it. The storm under his skin. The secrets, the scars, the ghosts. All the things he wouldn’t give me.

And I hated how much I wanted them.

I curled sideways on the sofa, dragging a cushion into my chest, burying my face in it. The scent of him was still on my skin, clinging, refusing to leave.

I wanted to scrub him out. To silence him.

But he was everywhere.

On my desk. In my veins. Behind my eyelids every time I blinked.

And the worst of it?

I knew he’d come.

He’d said it. Promised it.

And instead of running, instead of bracing, I was lying here on this sofa… waiting.

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At some point, I must’ve dragged myself off the sofa. I remembered the weight of my body giving in, the pull of sheets against my skin, the darkness swallowing me whole.

I didn’t remember falling asleep.

But I remembered waking.

Heat. A wall of it pressed against my back, solid and unmistakable. Breath warm at the curve of my neck. The slow drag of a hand, heavy and sure, over the dip of my waist.

My eyes blinked open in the dark.

Alex.

I went still, heart thudding. His body moulded to mine, every hard, perfect inch of him pressed close. Naked. Skin on skin, burning through the thin scrap of my camisole and knickers. His legs tangled with mine, his chest rising and falling against my back like he’d been here for hours, like this was where he belonged.

“Alex…” My voice was a whisper, rough with sleep.

“Mmm.” His lips brushed the nape of my neck, lazy, ruined. “Don’t move.”

My breath stuttered as his hand slid lower, smoothing over the curve of my hip, fingertips grazing the bare skin beneath my top.

“Shhh.” His mouth curved against my shoulder.

I frowned in the dark. “How the hell did you even get in?”

A pause. Then, sleep-rough, smug: “I have a key.”

I opened one eye. “You gave yourself a key.”

He kissed the back of my shoulder, lips warm, soft. “Semantics.”

My breath caught, a laugh tangled with disbelief. “This is madness.”

“I know.” His voice was low, almost broken, and the admission landed heavy in my chest.

My fingers curled into the sheets as he pulled me tighter into him, his cock thick and hot against the back of my thigh.

“You’re naked,” I murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“Best way to hold you,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep and something darker. His nose dragged along my temple, inhaling. “I’ve missed this.”

My chest pulled sharp. “It hasn’t been that long.”

His breath caught, uneven against my neck. “Too long.”

Silence stretched, heavy with the truth neither of us wanted to name. His thumb stroked idle circles into my hipbone, tender and reverent, like he was memorising the shape of me all over again.

I shifted, arching just slightly into his touch. His groan was low, sleepy, devastating.

“Don’t tease me, baby.” His teeth grazed my shoulder, a lazy nip softened instantly by his tongue. “I’m hanging by a thread as it is.”

My lips parted, a tremor running through me. “Then sleep.”

“Easy to say,” he murmured into my neck, his breath uneven, frayed.

I swallowed, throat burning. My fingers reached back, brushing his thigh, then I found his hand. I threaded my fingers through his, small and certain in his larger grip.

He stilled. Exhaled. The sound was jagged, like he’d been holding it in too long. Then he pressed his lips into my hair, a kiss that wasn’t lust, wasn’t demand. Just broken reverence. “That’s it,” he whispered, barely a breath. “That’s all I’ll ever need.”

His chest rose and fell slower against my back, but his hold never loosened.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

As my eyes drifted closed again, I let myself feel it. His weight, his warmth, the impossible truth of him wrapped around me.

Like he’d never let go.

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I woke to the sound of slow, steady breathing.

And the weight of his arm, heavy and low across my waist. The heat of his chest pressed along my back. The thick line of his cock resting in the dip of my spine.

Morning light filtered pale through the blinds, soft and hazy, dust floating in the still air.

I shifted carefully, rolling onto my side to face him.

And there he was.

Not a dream. Not a phantom. Very real. Very naked.

His lashes flickered, shadows cast long across his cheekbones, and for a few blessed seconds I just watched him. His mouth was softer in sleep, parted slightly, his jaw not locked in steel but slack, boyish almost. A faint crease ran between his brows, like even in rest he was braced for battle.

My fingers moved before I could stop them, brushing lightly over that crease, smoothing down the line of his cheek. Warm. Solid.

And then his eyes slitted open. Blue. Heavy with sleep but sharp enough to catch me all the same, like he’d been awake the whole time, waiting for me to get caught looking.

“Are you staring at me?” he muttered, voice gravel and morning wreckage.

I flushed. “You were asleep.”

A rough chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Not anymore.”

“You should be,” I whispered. “You broke in very late and stole half my bed.”

He pulled me closer, the corners of his mouth curving as he dragged me flush against him.

“Correction,” he breathed at my temple. “I broke in and stole you.”

I tried for a scoff, but it came out thinner than I wanted. “Arrogant.”

“You’re warm,” he countered, lips brushing my shoulder. “Soft. And you make these little noises when you dream…” His teeth grazed, then soothed with his tongue. “…nearly drove me mad keeping my hands off you.”

My breath tangled. “Christ.”

“Still might not manage it,” he murmured, pressing his hips forward.

I felt him. Thick, hot, nudging against me. My thighs snapped together instinctively.

His gaze dipped, catching the tension in my thighs, the quick pull of my breath. His eyes flared darker, voice dropping to a gravelled murmur. “Tell me,” he whispered, his nose grazing my temple, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Did I make you sore, baby?”

I swallowed, heat rushing to my cheeks, and forced my voice steady. “What did you expect after last night?”

The sound he made was wrecked, almost reverent. A low growl torn from deep in his chest. His palm swept down my stomach, unhurried, deliberate, slipping beneath the lace. His fingers brushed over me, light at first, testing.

I jolted at the touch, my hips twitching away before pressing helplessly back into his hand. Not pain. Just the sting of tenderness, edged with desperate need.

“Christ,” he rasped, forehead tipping to mine, his touch unbearably soft as he stroked me again. “You’re really sore.”

My nails dug into his arm, breath ragged. “And wet,” I bit out, defiant and shaky all at once.

His breath dragged hot across my cheek, uneven. His thumb circled my clitoris lightly, coaxing, careful. “I should’ve been gentler.”

My lips parted, a sound somewhere between protest and want. “Alex-”

“Shhh.” His mouth brushed mine, soft and trembling. His fingers kept their gentle rhythm, easing the ache he’d left. “Let me soothe you, baby. Let me make it better.”

He shifted down the bed, dragging the sheets with him. He tugged my camisole over my head and tossed it aside.

I gasped when his hand caught both my wrists, pinning them high above my head into the pillow. His weight pressed them down, his grip unyielding.

“Keep them there,” he ordered, voice low, calm, lethal in its certainty.

My chest heaved. “And if I don’t?”

His eyes lifted, locking on mine as his mouth curved, dark and devastating. “You will.”

I swallowed hard, my whole body strung tight as his mouth began its descent. Slow, grazing kisses down my throat, over my collarbone, until he found my breast. His lips closed over my nipple, tongue swirling, sucking until the ache sharpened into a cry caught in my throat.

My wrists tugged uselessly against his hold, my back arching up into his mouth.

He groaned low, rough and ruined, and bit down just enough to make me gasp before soothing the sting with his tongue. Then he moved to the other, his teeth scraping, lips sealing, sucking until the pull went straight to the heat between my thighs.

When he finally released me, he left a bruise blooming dark on the swell of my left breast. His gaze lingered on it, blue fire tearing through me. His voice was hoarse, jagged.

“Now you’re marked,” he rasped, brushing his thumb over the tender flesh. “Exactly where I want it.”

Then his mouth dragged lower, down my stomach, the flat of his tongue circling my navel before dipping further. Every inch of me burned, waiting.

Then he found the lace, the barrier between us, and tugged it down my hips with excruciating care. His gaze dropped. His breath tore ragged.

His voice cracked, reverent. “Look at you. Drenched for me.”

Heat rushed to my face as the air hit my bare skin, but before shame could bite, his mouth was there, broad tongue dragging slow up my folds, licking me open in one long, claiming stroke.

I cried out, hips jerking off the bed.

“Don’t,” he growled into me, the vibration tearing through me. “Stay where I told you.”

His lips sealed over my clit then, sucking, flicking, circling until my vision blurred. He licked me slow, then fast, then slow again, tormenting me, drawing the need higher with every calculated stroke.

“Alex please-” My voice cracked, half sob, half moan.

He hummed low, the sound deep and wrecked against me, his tongue plunging deeper, fucking me with every thrust before sliding back up to swirl over my clit.

“Stay,” he growled against me, the vibration tearing through my core. “Let me have you.”

I whimpered, every nerve alight, my hips straining helplessly into his mouth. His tongue circled, coaxing me higher, until tears pressed at the corners of my eyes.

Then his hand shifted, sliding lower, fingers caressing that forbidden place, stroking, teasing, pressing just enough to make me jolt.

“Alex-” My cry was half-shame, half-desperate plea.

He lifted his head, his mouth slick, eyes dark and blazing. “Easy, baby. You’re so wet I can touch you everywhere.” His fingertip traced slow, tight circles, massaging with sinful patience.

I gasped, my body arching off the bed, the dual sensation wrecking me. The sharp heat of his tongue at my clit, the wicked pressure of his finger teasing me further back. It was too much, too raw.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, dragging his tongue through my folds before sucking hard on my clit. His hand never stopped, stroking me there, coaxing me open with wet, steady circles. “Caitríona… you’re begging without even saying a word.”

“I can’t-” My voice broke, head thrashing against the pillow. “I can’t-”

“You can.” His teeth scraped lightly over me, his breath wrecked. “Because I’ll take care of every inch of you.”

My thighs shook violently, my body trembling under his relentless worship. I pulled at the sheets, pulled at my own restraint, desperate to touch him, to anchor myself, but his command held. I couldn’t move.

“Please-” I sobbed, broken, undone.

His tongue lashed harder, faster, his hand stroking both front and back now, a devastating rhythm that stripped me bare. My body writhed, helpless against him, my cries filling the room.

And then I shattered.

Release tore through me so hard I thought I’d break apart. My scream ripped out, my thighs clamped around his head, my whole body convulsing as waves crashed over me, relentless, raw.

But he didn’t stop.

He licked me through it, slow now, gentle, coaxing every tremor, every aftershock, swallowing me whole. His hands held me open, anchored me down while his tongue softened, soothing where moments ago it had destroyed.

“Alex enough, please-” I gasped, tears stinging my eyes, my body twitching in the aftermath.

He lifted his head finally, jaw slick, eyes dark, feral and worshipful all at once. His chest heaved as he crawled back up my body, his mouth catching mine in a kiss that tasted of everything he’d just taken.

When he broke away, his voice was hoarse, wrecked. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

I lay trembling beneath him, wrists still pinned, lungs burning, heart split wide open.

Alex gathered me up, strong arms sweeping beneath me, pulling me against his chest like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. His lips pressed into my hair, over my temple, down my damp cheek, frantic kisses, broken and relentless.

“My beautiful girl” he whispered, his voice ruined, his breath catching as though he’d run a marathon. “Shaking for me.”

My throat burned. My hands finally lifted, weak but willing, curling around his neck. “You’re mad,” I whispered back, the words trembling.

“Mad for you.” His nose brushed mine, his mouth hovering, wrecked. “It’s killing me. I can’t stop.”

His kiss found me again, softer now. Every brush was a promise, every wordless press a confession he’d never dare say outright.

“Alex…” My voice cracked, half-sob, half-sigh.

“Shh.” He held me tighter, chest crushing mine, his hand splayed wide across my back as if I might slip away if he didn’t anchor me. “Just let me hold you.”

I buried my face in his throat, the salt of him on my tongue, his pulse wild beneath my lips. He groaned low, clutching me tighter, kissing my hair like he needed to memorise the feel of me.

“You’re all I’ve got,” he murmured, voice jagged, fraying. “All I’ll ever bloody want. Do you hear me?”

My chest split, pain and love tangling too deep to tell apart. “I hear you,” I whispered, broken against his skin.

For a long time we lay there, his hand stroking circles into my spine, his lips never leaving me for more than a heartbeat. His breath stayed ragged against my hair, his muscles taut as steel even with me soft in his arms.

And though every part of me knew I should fight it, fight him, I clung tighter instead.

Because nothing had ever felt so much like home.

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The smell of coffee reached me first.

I padded barefoot down the hall. The flat was quiet, except for the low hiss of the machine and the faint clink of porcelain.

And him.

He stood at the counter, steam curling around him, a towel slung low on his hips. Drops of water still clung to his shoulders, sliding down the carved planes of his back before disappearing into the white cotton at his waist. His hair was damp, darker, curling against his temples.

I froze in the doorway, pulse quickening at the sight. Christ, he looked like every forbidden thought I’d ever had standing in my kitchen like that. Casual, domestic, devastating.

He must’ve felt me there. He turned, and those blue eyes found me instantly.

“Morning, baby” His voice was still rough with sleep, deep and sinful.

I blinked, trying for composure. “You made coffee.”

He reached for a mug, poured black liquid with one hand, the other keeping his towel in place. “Couldn’t have you facing the day without it.”

I folded my arms, leaning against the frame. “You broke into my bed last night and now you’re taking over my kitchen.”

He smirked, crossing the floor with deliberate slowness, mug in hand. “Correction. I’m taking care of you.”

My retort faltered as he stopped in front of me, close enough for the steam from the cup to rise between us. Close enough for his scent. Soap, coffee, and skin still warm from the shower to swallow me whole.

“Drink.” He pressed the mug into my hands, then bent and brushed his lips over my temple. “Before you start with that sharp tongue.”

My breath tangled. “Alex-”

His mouth cut me off, stealing the word in a kiss that was quick, teasing, filthy enough to make my toes curl.

I gasped against him, the mug trembling in my hands. “You-”

“Shhh,” he hummed, dragging his lips down the curve of my jaw, stubble scratching, teeth nipping soft at my skin. “Too beautiful for sense,” he muttered. “You’ve got no idea what you do to me, do you?”

My head tipped back, breath stuttering as his mouth lingered at my throat. “You shouldn’t…”

“Shouldn’t?” His voice was muffled against my skin, a low smile in it. “Baby, I shouldn’t do half the things I do with you.”

His lips curved at my pulse, his whisper dark silk. “Want to know what you did last night?”

My eyes blinked open. “What?”

“You kissed me in your sleep.”

My heart jolted. “No, I didn’t.”

“Oh, you did.” His chuckle rumbled low, wicked. “Little whimpers, lips searching for me like you couldn’t bear the space between us. Nearly broke me, lying there not touching you.”

Heat shot through me, mortifying and thrilling all at once. “You’re lying.”

He drew back, eyes locking on mine blue fire, smug and devastating. “Am I?”

I swallowed hard, trying to hold his gaze, but he caught my chin, thumb brushing my lower lip, tilting me up to him.

“Baby,” he whispered, voice rough, wrecked, almost tender. “If you knew what it does to me… hearing my name on your lips even when you’re asleep.”

My chest squeezed tight, the air shaky in my throat. “Alex…”

“Shhh.” His mouth found mine again, slower this time. Reverent. His tongue coaxed, tasted, stole the breath from me until my fingers went slack around the mug.

When he finally drew back, the coffee sat cooling between us, steam curling sharp in the silence. My chest was still heaving, my pulse wrecked. And that was when I said it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

His head snapped up. His whole body stilled, blue eyes narrowing like a weapon. “Say that again.”

“I can’t do the sessions. Not with you. It’s unethical. And I won’t.”

For a beat he froze. Then the storm broke.

“Fucking hell,” he snarled, storming across the kitchen, towel slung low, dripping water onto my tiles. “You think I’m going to sit here and swallow that? ”

“I just did.” My voice was sharp, even.

His hand slammed the counter beside my hip, the whole surface rattling under the force. “Don’t fuck with me, Caitríona. You think you can cut me off like some, some case file and I’ll just take it?”

I didn’t flinch. “This was never therapy. Not really. You know it. I know it. And if I keep pretending it is, I lose my integrity. My licence. My self. I won’t do it.”

His laugh was jagged, brutal. “Integrity? Christ. That’s your excuse? You’d rather cling to some textbook code than face what this is between us?”

“Don’t you dare reduce me to a bloody rulebook. This isn’t just about ethics, Alex. It’s about honesty. You’ve sat there dodging, giving me scraps, while coming at me like I’m the only thing you want to consume. You’ve never let me all the way in. You don’t want me in that chair, you want me here. And I can’t split myself in two to feed your obsession.”

“Obsession?” He seized my wrist, wrenching it from the counter and slamming it high against the cupboard. His face hovered a breath from mine, eyes blazing, unhinged. “You think I don’t know what this is? You think I don’t wake up every night half-mad from wanting you, from needing you? Don’t you dare stand there and tell me to stop when you know-”

He broke off, jaw locking, the word he wouldn’t say burning unsaid between us. His breath tore ragged across my cheek. “-when you know I can’t.”

I leaned into him, my chin high, refusing to bend. “I’m not telling you to stop. I’m telling you to choose. Because if you push me to keep those sessions, if you force me to sit across from you and lie to both of us…”

My voice dropped, steel and final. “…then you don’t just lose your therapist. You lose me.”

The words hit harder than any shove. He froze, chest heaving, jaw flexing like he might explode. The towel slipped lower on his hips, but he didn’t notice. His whole body was fire and restraint, blue eyes burning into mine as if he could hold me there by will alone.

“You’d walk,” he growled, low and lethal. “Over this.”

“I’d have no choice,” I said simply. “And you know it.”

The silence stretched, sharp as glass. His hand shook where it pinned me, every muscle in his arm taut. For one terrifying second, I thought he’d double down, push, break us both.

But then, with a guttural sound torn from somewhere deep, his grip faltered. He let my wrist go, only to catch my hand instead, crushing it in his, forehead pressing hard to mine.

“I fucking hate this.” His voice cracked, wrecked.

“I know.” My reply was calm, firm. “But if you want me, Alex, this is the only way you get me.”

His chest heaved once, twice, his whole frame vibrating with fury he couldn’t spend. Then, finally, through clenched teeth: “Fine. No sessions. But don’t think for one fucking second this means you’re rid of me. Because I’ll burn down the fucking world before I let you go.”

I let the corner of my mouth twitch, my grip unyielding in his. “Good. Because I wasn’t planning to go anywhere.”

And then he was on me, mouth crashing to mine. Furious, broken, desperate. A kiss that tasted like surrender and possession all at once.

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Alex’s hand welded to mine the entire way, his thumb stroking lazy circles over my knuckles like I was a child he was keeping in line. Every time I tried to slip free, his grip only tightened.

By the time we stepped through the glass doors of the clinic, my jaw ached from grinding back words.

“Alex,” I hissed under my breath, tugging against him. “Let go.”

He looked down, cool as you please, blue eyes glinting. “No.”

“For God’s sake-”

“You’ll only wriggle more if I let you.” His mouth curved, smug as sin. “And then we’ll really put on a show.”

I swallowed a curse as Maya appeared behind reception, head tipping, grin spreading slow and wide.

“Bloody hell. This is a sight. Morning, Cait. Morning, Mr Ashcroft.”

“Morning, Maya,” we said together.

Maya froze for half a beat, then her grin spread like she’d just been handed a gift. “Christ. In sync already. Another week and she’ll be ordering your coffee before you even open that mouth, Mr Ashcroft.”

Alex’s lip curved. Mine did not.

Maya’s eyes flicked straight to our hands as we reached the desk, her mouth twitching before she looked up at Alex with a little sigh. “Well. No one told me it was royal visit day.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Encouragement hardly needed,” Maya murmured, her gaze sweeping over Alex in that not-so-subtle way every woman seemed to. Then she leaned forward, conspiratorial. “You cause quite the stir when you walk in, you know. Half the building’s probably already on edge.”

Alex gave her the kind of smile that managed to be both polite and dangerous. “Then I won’t waste anyone’s time. Is Reece in?”

Maya tilted her head, playing innocent, though her eyes were sparkling. “Of course he is. But I feel like I should issue a health warning before I send you his way. You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” Alex asked smoothly.

“The one that says someone’s about to be steamrolled.” She cast me a wicked glance, smirk tugging at her lips. “Or maybe that was just reserved for Cait.”

Heat pricked at my cheeks. “Maya-”

Alex’s hand tightened around mine, voice calm but edged with steel. “Reece.”

Maya pressed her lips together like she was physically holding back a laugh. “Top floor. Door’s open. God help him.”

The clinic doors hissed open behind us.

Oscar.

He sauntered in like he was on stage. Suit just a shade too shiny, grin a little too polished but the moment he clocked Alex at my side, his pace faltered. His eyes darted between our joined hands and Alex’s towering frame, and the bravado wobbled.

“Well,” he drawled, recovering quick, too quick. “Didn’t realise the morning show was in town. Cait,” He nodded like he thought it made him look suave. It didn’t.

“Mr Ashcroft, isn’t it?” His tone was all false charm, as if saying the name gave him ground to stand on.

Alex’s head turned slowly, those blue eyes finding him with surgical precision. “You’ve done your homework.”

Oscar’s laugh was quick, nervous. “Hard not to. Name like yours tends to… fill a room.” His eyes flicked to me, too long, too knowing. “Last night it certainly did.”

My stomach dropped. Maya stilled behind the desk, her mouth parting.

Alex didn’t move at first. Just looked at him. The kind of look that stripped a man bare without needing a word. Then, with terrifying calm, he released my hand only to step forward, his height swallowing the space between them.

“Let’s be very clear,” Alex said, voice velvet wrapped round steel. “You don’t speak of Caitriona. You don’t allude, you don’t hint, you don’t so much as breathe about what doesn’t concern you. Because if you do…” He leaned in a fraction, his mouth curving in something elegant and cold. “I’ll ensure you never speak again.”

Oscar’s bravado cracked, the grin twitching at the edges. “I didn’t mean-”

“You did.” Alex’s voice cut through him like a blade. “And that was your first and last mistake.”

Silence pressed heavy. Oscar’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded, colour draining from his face.

Alex straightened, smooth, controlled, the perfect gentleman on the surface. “Good lad.” Then, as if dismissing a child, he turned back, reclaiming my hand without looking, tugging me toward the stairs.

Maya let out a low whistle under her breath, fanning herself with a file. “Remind me never to cross you, Mr Ashcroft.”

Alex’s reply was simple, final, his voice low enough that it vibrated through me more than the air.

“Wise choice.”

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I hope this chapter warmed your hearts in all the right ways, and wherever you are, may the new year bring you desire, courage, and a touch of delicious chaos.

Happy New Year, lovely readers!

And of course I’d love to hear your thoughts on chapter 17 ✨

A💋