CHAPTER FIVE
787 Words
The day began like all the others — a house too large, too quiet, and a husband absent long before breakfast. Elena sat at the dining table, staring at her untouched plate. The silence pressed on her, thick and unrelenting, until the scrape of a chair finally forced her to move.
She pushed away the food and rose, restless energy burning through her veins. Since the moment in the garden, Colin’s eyes had haunted her. She hated herself for it, hated the weakness, the reckless way her body responded at just the thought of him. But no matter how many times she told herself it was wrong, her heart refused to obey.
When she stepped outside, the air was cooler, touched with the scent of earth after an early drizzle. She spotted him near the shed, bending to lift a heavy crate of tools. His shirt clung to his back, damp from work, every line of muscle shifting under the fabric.
“Colin,” she called before she could stop herself.
He straightened, surprised. “Mrs. Templeton.”
The way he said her name — formal, respectful — made her chest ache. He still kept that barrier between them, even after the garden.
“That looks heavy,” she said, moving closer.
He smiled faintly. “It is. But I’ve carried worse.”
“Here, let me—” She reached for the other side of the crate, but when their hands brushed, she froze. Heat sparked where skin met skin, racing up her arm, setting her nerves alight.
“Elena…” His voice dropped low, warning and yearning tangled together.
She should have let go. She should have pulled back, run inside, locked herself in her room and prayed the madness away. But her hand lingered, caught in the fire of his touch.
The crate slipped to the ground between them with a dull thud. Neither of them noticed.
Colin’s eyes searched hers, desperate and uncertain. For a moment, neither moved, the silence filled only by the steady pound of her heart. Then, slowly, as though pulled by something stronger than reason, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
Her breath caught.
“Elena…” he whispered again, and this time her name was not a warning. It was a plea.
She closed the distance. Or maybe he did. She would never know. But suddenly his lips were on hers, fierce and hungry, stealing the breath from her lungs.
The world fell away. There was no mansion, no cruel husband, no gilded cage. There was only the taste of him — warm, real, alive — and the way his hands framed her face like she was something precious, not broken.
She melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer, closer still. His scent — earth, sweat, and something purely male — filled her senses until she thought she might drown in it.
When they finally broke apart, gasping, her forehead rested against his chest. Shame and desire warred inside her, a storm she couldn’t contain.
“This is wrong,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Then let it be wrong,” Colin said hoarsely. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t see you, Elena. That I don’t…” He stopped, biting back the words.
She closed her eyes, tears stinging. “I’m married.”
His hand found hers, their fingers tangling. “Married to a man who doesn’t love you. Married to someone who doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.”
Her chest tightened. For so long she had yearned to hear those words, to be seen, to be wanted not as an accessory to Alexander’s wealth but as a woman, flesh and soul.
“Elena…” He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me this is the last time, and I’ll walk away.”
But she couldn’t. The words lodged in her throat, refused to come. Instead, she leaned up and kissed him again, softer this time, but filled with a surrender she could no longer deny.
When they pulled apart, the air between them vibrated with everything left unsaid.
She stepped back, her chest heaving. “I need to go,” she whispered.
He let her, though the longing in his eyes nearly undid her.
Back inside, Elena pressed her back to the closed door of her bedroom, her lips still tingling. She knew everything had changed. She could no longer pretend Colin was just the gardener. He was temptation made flesh, a secret desire she could not cage.
And for the first time in years, she felt alive.
- Writer
