Chapter 5
1500 Words
The next morning, sunlight cuts through the blinds of my bedroom, harsh and almost accusatory, like it knows what I did… who I did.
I lie there for a long moment, tangled in the sheets like a prisoner caught in my own crime. My skin is still flushed, too warm, too sensitive, like he’s still touching me. My hair is a mess across the pillow, wild evidence of everything I told myself I’d never do again. But the memory of last night refuses to fade. It clings—thick, hot, electric—like a fever I can’t shake.
Every inch of me still burns for him.
Jaxon.
That impossible, dangerous man.
The ceiling stares back at me as my mind replays everything in vivid, sinful detail. My pulse is a slow, heavy drumbeat in my chest, echoing through the silence of my room. I’ve lived through reckless nights, chaotic parties, strangers’ hands on my skin… but none of it ever touched me like this. None of it ever felt like him. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I wanted him. Never surrendered the way I did last night.
And yet… here I am. Wanting more.
My phone buzzes sharply on the nightstand, dragging me out of the haze. My hand trembles slightly as I reach for it. A message from Marcus.
“We’ll talk today. Noon. Don’t be late.”
My stomach tightens.
Of course he wants to talk. He always wants to talk when I least want to hear his voice. But he has no idea what’s happening. He can’t know—not yet.
Not about Jaxon.
Not about what happened in that booth.
Not about the way my body answered him without hesitation.
I push the thought away and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. My feet hit the cold floor, grounding me in reality for a split second. The apartment is painfully quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside—sirens, honking, distant music, Aurelia City breathing its restless rhythm. But inside me?
Everything is screaming.
Jaxon.
Jaxon.
Jaxon.
Last night’s heat.
Last night’s fire.
Last night’s hands on my skin.
It’s unbearable how much I still feel him.
I force myself into the bathroom and turn on the shower. The water is hot, steaming the mirror instantly. I step under it and let it run down my body, trying to wash away the fog, the ache, the need. But it doesn’t work. If anything, it worsens it. Because now I remember the way his hands slid over me like he owned every part of me.
I close my eyes. I shouldn’t. But I do.
And suddenly his mouth is there again, the ghost of last night pressing against my skin. My breath hitches. I grip the shower wall until my knuckles whiten.
Get it together, Arabella.
I stay under the water until it starts to cool, and only then do I force myself out. Wrapped in a towel, hair dripping down my back, I step into my bedroom as my phone buzzes again.
This time, no name.
Just a number.
My heart gives a violent kick.
I swipe to open the message.
“Meet me. Now. You know where.”
I freeze.
Jaxon.
His voice is in those words. Not literal sound—but the weight, the command, the heat. It hits me like a shockwave. My pulse spikes instantly. My breath catches. It takes less than a second for my body to begin responding to him again.
I don’t hesitate. Not even for a breath.
I don’t question.
I don’t prepare.
I just move.
I pull on a thin robe, cinching it tight around my waist, and slide my feet into my heels. My hair is still damp, my lip still swollen from his last kiss, my legs barely steady—but I go.
Aurelia City waits outside like a living thing—neon, dangerous, hungry. And somewhere inside that pulse… he waits for me.
I grab my keys and rush out the door.
The Den is louder than usual tonight, even though it’s barely midday. The bass shakes the floor, vibrating up through my legs, syncing with the wild beat of my heart. Neon lights bleed along the walls, casting everything in electric blues and reds. Bodies move around me, dancing, laughing, living in a world that doesn’t feel real.
But none of it matters.
Because there he is.
Jaxon stands near the bar—casual, composed, devastatingly lethal in black. His dark eyes sweep the club, uninterested in everything… until they land on me.
And when they do, the entire world narrows.
The club disappears.
The crowd vanishes.
Reality tilts.
It’s just us.
I walk toward him slowly, the air thickening with every step. Heat radiates from him like a gravitational force pulling me in. My voice is barely steady when I speak.
“You said to meet you,” I murmur.
He smirks, the kind of smirk that could ruin a woman’s life. “You came.”
“Of course I came.” My voice betrays me—too breathless, too honest. “You know me better than that.”
His head tilts slightly, studying me with unsettling precision. His gaze is a touch—one that drags across my skin and leaves sparks behind. “You’re reckless,” he says softly, the accusation sounding more like praise. “And I like it.”
“I’m not reckless,” I whisper back. “I’m alive.”
His eyes darken.
“Alive… and untamed.”
A shiver slips down my spine. I hate how much he affects me. I love it even more. Every word, every glance, every silent inch between us crackles.
I want him.
I need him.
And it terrifies me that this does not feel like lust anymore.
He steps closer—barely an inch—but it feels like the world shifts beneath my feet. His hand brushes mine, just a whisper of contact, and my pulse leaps wildly.
“I’m not just a fantasy,” he murmurs. “I don’t bend. I don’t break. I can’t be tamed. And neither can you.”
A thrill shoots through me—reckless, intoxicating, irresistible. I lean in, lips grazing the sharp edge of his jaw, daring him, inviting him.
“Then take me,” I whisper.
His breath catches, just slightly, and then—
Everything blurs.
We slip into a private booth, sheltered by shadows and velvet curtains. The music outside thrums like a pulse, but in here it’s muted, distant, irrelevant. All that exists is him. His scent. His breath. His hands.
His hands are everywhere.
Gentle.
Demanding.
Claiming without asking.
My mind dissolves. My decisions evaporate. There is only feeling, only heat, only him. Every touch makes my knees weak. Every kiss pulls a soft sound from my throat. Every moment pushes me further past the point of no return.
“You’re dangerous,” I whisper against his mouth, barely able to breathe.
“And you like danger,” he answers, lips trailing down my neck.
A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. My body arches into him instinctively. His teeth graze my skin, and the world outside the booth ceases to exist.
But somewhere deep in the back of my mind, a small voice tries to speak.
This is reckless.
This is dangerous.
This will cost you something you can’t afford to lose.
I silence it.
Because for the first time in my life, I feel awake.
Alive.
Unapologetic.
I’ve met a man who doesn’t try to change me, tame me, judge me, or cage me. A man who matches my fire, challenges my chaos, and meets my hunger with hunger of his own.
I want him.
I need him.
And I will have him—
even if it destroys something else in the process.
Even if it destroys me.
The night spirals on in a haze of touches, whispered words, stolen kisses that burn hotter the longer they last. Every moment between us is a promise neither of us dares to say aloud. But it’s there, heavy and electric in the air.
His fingers brush my jaw.
My hand curls around the back of his neck.
Our breaths mingle, uneven, quickening.
He doesn’t say it, but I feel it:
You’re mine.
And I’m yours.
For now. For tonight. For however long this madness lasts.
I know it won’t stay like this forever. Nothing ever does. Not desire. Not heat. Not hunger. Not danger.
But tonight…
tonight I surrender.
To him.
To the fire.
To the storm.
Jaxon Reed is no ordinary man.
He’s a force.
A threat.
A temptation strong enough to break the strongest woman.
And I—Arabella Kingston, the girl who swore she’d never bow to a man—am standing here, trembling under the weight of a force I can no longer fight.
And for the first time in my life…
I’m ready.
- Writer
