Holiday Romance

Chapter 11: The Morning After

Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains of Isla’s suite, casting a golden glow over the tangle of sheets and limbs sprawled across the bed. The air was thick with the lingering scent of salt, sweat, and something far more dangerous—desire.

Isla stirred first, her body betraying her mind by molding instinctively to the warmth beside her. A strong, familiar arm draped over her waist, anchoring her in place. Her pulse quickened as the events of last night came rushing back in vivid detail—the way Adrian had kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered, the way his hands had explored her body with a desperate kind of reverence, the way he had made her feel alive again.

Shit.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if she pretended hard enough, none of it had happened. But the deep, even breaths of the man beside her said otherwise. And when she finally worked up the courage to turn her head, she found Adrian watching her, blue eyes hooded with sleep and something she couldn't quite name.

“Morning,” he murmured, voice raspy from sleep and last night’s whispered confessions.

Isla swallowed hard, willing herself to stay calm. “Morning.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Adrian reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. She hated how easy it was to melt into his touch, how natural it felt to be wrapped up in him again.

But this wasn’t natural. This was dangerous.

“I should go,” she whispered, even as her body screamed at her to stay.

Adrian’s jaw tensed, but he nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

She hesitated. Did she? Her heart and her head were at war, battling between logic and longing. But then, reality came crashing in—Tessa’s wedding, the looming presence of Logan, and the undeniable truth that Adrian still had the power to break her just as easily as he had last time.

She pulled away, wrapping the sheet around herself as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Last night was a mistake,” she said, more to herself than him.

Adrian sat up, resting his forearms on his knees. “Is that what you really think?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself.

Gathering her scattered clothes, she dressed in silence, feeling Adrian’s gaze burn into her back. When she finally turned to face him, his expression was unreadable, a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something that scared her more than she wanted to admit.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, gripping the doorknob.

Adrian’s lips curved into a humorless smirk. “Keep telling yourself that, Carter.”

And with that, she walked out, ignoring the way her heart clenched at the sound of her name on his lips, knowing damn well she wouldn’t be able to forget any of it.