Craving Blackwell

Chapter five

The week crawled by with torturous slowness. Catherine buried herself in shifts at the restaurant, convincing herself that avoiding Adrian was the most sensible choice. Yet, no matter how many plates she carried or tables she reset and cleaned, her thoughts circled back to him from his voice, his touch that lingered without touching, the storm in his eyes when he told her to go.

By night fall, her phone buzzed with a message.

“I need to speak with you”

Her chest constricted, every rational bone in her body screamed to ignore it. But by the time the black car pulled up outside her apartment, she was already dressed in her best navy dress, very modest yet clinging just enough to remind her she was still a woman beneath all the responsibility she has.

When the car rolled to a stop outside his mansion, Adrian himself was waiting for her at the steps. No driver, no staff, just only him, framed in the golden wash of the porch lights.

“Welcome,” he said quietly, though his voice carried a weight that sent a shiver down her spine.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” she answered, trying for lightness, though her pulse had betrayed her.

He studied her for a long moment, then offered his hand. “Come”

The house was quieter than before, shadows pooling in the corners of the grand halls. He didn’t take her to the dining room, or the terrace, or even the library. Instead, he led her to the music room the same one where he had played for her before where she saw the real him.

The piano sat in silence, bathed in moonlight spilling through tall windows.

“Why, why bring me back here” she asked, her voice hushed.

“Because it’s the only room where I don’t lie,” he replied simply.

Her chest tightened. “And what truth are you about to tell me?”

He turned, and for once, the mask was gone. His face was raw, stripped of its usual composure. “That I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you crashed into my life. That I want you here, with me, even though I shouldn’t.”

Her breath hitched. “Why shouldn’t you, don’t hide anything from me”

“Because everything I touch breaks eventually.” His voice was low, jagged. “And I don’t think that, I can’t afford to break you.”

The ache in his tone pulled at something deep inside her. Slowly, Catherine stepped closer, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “I’m stronger than you think.”

He closed his eyes as if her words cut and healed all at once. Then, as though surrendering to something inevitable, Adrian reached for her.

The moment his hand brushed her cheek, the world fell away. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that was not gentle, it was fire, hunger, the release of every tether he had fought to hold. Catherine melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt, her body yielding to the storm she had felt building from the start.

The kiss consuming, until he tore himself away, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath ragged.

Adrian broke the kiss only long enough to trace his lips along her temple and down to the hollow of

her throat. Each press of his mouth drew a whisper from her, soft sounds that ignited something

deeper in him.

“You have no idea,” he murmured against her skin, “how long I’ve wanted this. Wanted you.”

“I think I do,” she whispered back, her voice unsteady, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, to really look at her. His eyes, dark and burning, held

hers in a gaze that left her undone, before returning to her lips with a kiss that burned hotter.

Catherine’s pulse quickened, every inch of her body responded to his nearness, to the heat of him

Her like a flame. She tugged at his shirt, and he understood instantly. With a swift movement,

he unbuttoned it, revealing the hard planes of his chest. The sight made her to be out of breath the feel of him beneath her palms made her dizzy with want.

Adrian caught her hand and pressed it against his heart. It pounded wildly, matching her own.

“This is what you do to me,” he said, his voice filled with emotion.

Her reply came in the form of a kiss, desperate and deep, her lips parting against his, her body

arching to meet his. He groaned softly, the sound low and raw, and gathered her closer, as though he was afraid, she might slip away.

Adrian moved slowly, deliberately, as though every second mattered. His hands skimmed her

sides, memorizing her curves through the thin fabric between them. She shivered, clutching him

tighter, her own hands mapping the terrain of his back, the ridges of muscle shifting under her

touch.

“Adrian” Her voice trembled with need.

He kissed her again, lingering on her lips before trailing down, leaving a line of fire along her

collarbone. His name left her lips in a sigh, a plea, and he answered by pulling her closer still, their bodies molding into one.

Clothes became less and less of a barrier as the night deepened. Each piece felt like another

wall falling between them, until there was nothing left but skin and the raw truth of their

longing.

Adrian held her as though she were both fragile and powerful something to be cherished and

something that had undone him completely. He moved above her with careful strength, his control

barely contained, his every motion infused with both hunger and reverence.

Catherine’s hands framed his face, her eyes locking with his even as her body arched into him.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered. “Not with me.”

Her words broke the last of his restraint. His kisses grew deeper, his touch more urgent, yet never

losing that tenderness that marked everything he did with her. The world outside the bedroom

disappeared and there was only them, the sound of their breath, the unspoken promises woven

between gasps and sighs.

And when at last they collapsed into the sheets, limbs tangled, hearts still racing, Catherine buried

her face against his chest and felt tears prick her eyes. Not of sadness, but of the overwhelming

truth that she had never belonged to anyone the way she did to him.

Adrian tightened his hold on her, pressing his lips into her hair. His breathing was still uneven, but

his voice carried steady when he whispered, “You are everything I never knew I needed. And I’ll

spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Catherine’s eyes closed, her body sinking into his, her soul wrapping around the promise in his

words. She felt safe, cherished, and utterly consumed by him.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unspoken. Then he kissed her again, slower this time, reverent, as though memorizing her.

And in that moment, Catherine knew there was no turning back. Whatever scars he carried, whatever shadows that haunted him she was already part of them. She was already his.