In bed with Havoc

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

AVA

I stepped into the shower, letting the water that was as hot as the hell I wanted Ryder to spend an eternity in as I scrubbed every last remnant of his hand off my body.

The lockdown had f****d me up in so many ways.

Then his f*****g hands. It had been on my waist and abdomen and flexing his stupid muscles like he was claiming me.

I grabbed the soap, lathering it over my shoulders, my breasts, down my abdomen, scrubbing hard enough to redden the skin. As if friction could erase the memory of his fingers digging in, the heat that had radiated from his palms straight to my core.

It didn't work. The steam filled the bathroom, mirroring the fog in my head. I rinsed off, but the ache lingered, a low throb between my legs that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with him.

"Get a grip, Ava," I muttered, turning the water colder, hoping the shock would snap me out of it.

It only made my n*****s peak, they were sensitive and begging for attention I refused to give. I toweled off roughly, avoiding the mirror because I didn't need to see the flush on my cheeks and the way my body betrayed me.

I slipped under the covers naked, the fabric cool against my still-damp skin, and stared at the ceiling. The estate was quiet save for the distant hum of generators, the occasional creak of settling wood, the faint footsteps of guards on rotation. I hated how attuned I'd become to it all in such a short time.

Then I heard Ryder's footsteps.

My body instantly tensed. I had unintentionally memorized the way he walked so that I'd always know when he was around. This was when I was a teenager and it has remained so ever since.

He walked to my door, slowed and stopped. My breath hitched.

What was he doing out there? Checking on me? Debating whether to knock? The silence dragged, heavy with unspoken tension and I imagined him on the other side, hand raised, then dropping.

The footsteps resumed, fading away, and I exhaled shakily, pressing my palms to my eyes.

My mind unintentionally started to picture him and I found myself remembering the weight of his hand on my abdomen.

I let myself replay it, just once. Sixty seconds, I bargained with myself. His fingers splaying across my hip, warm through my shirt, pulling me back against him for a split second. Accidental intimacy in the chaos. My body responded instantly, heat pooling low, my n*****s tightening under the sheets as if his touch had ghosted over them instead.

Damn it.

I shifted, thighs pressing together, but that only heightened the ache. This was ridiculous—attraction born of proximity, adrenaline, shared history. Nothing more. But my hand moved anyway, traitor that it was, sliding down my stomach, fingers tracing the path his had taken. Slow and teasing. I bit my lip, eyes fluttering shut in the dark. Just to ease the tension.

That's all.

My fingertips brushed over my mound, dipping lower to find myself already slick, swollen with need. A soft gasp escaped me as I circled my c**t, light at first, building the pressure in each stroke. God, it felt good—too good. I imagined it was Ryder's hand instead, rougher and more insistent. His voice in my ear, low and commanding: "You feel that, Ava? How wet you are for me?"

It was fantasy, but it sent a shiver through me, making my back arch off the bed.

I let my other hand wander up, cupping one breast, thumb flicking over the hardened n****e.

The sensation shot straight to my core, a spark that made me whimper. I pinched it gently, then harder, rolling it between my fingers as I increased the rhythm below. Circles turning to firm presses, dipping a finger inside myself, then two, curling against that sensitive spot that made my toes curl.

Wet sounds filled the room but I didn't care. All I could think of was him, Ryder pinning me against the wall of that locked room, his body hard against mine, hand replacing mine between my legs. Thrusting deeper, faster, while his mouth claimed my neck, teeth grazing just enough to sting.

My breaths came in ragged pants, hips bucking into my touch. I tweaked my other n****e, pulling at it, the dual sensations building like a wave. Heat spread from my center up to my chest, my thighs trembling as I chased the edge.

"Ryder…" I whispered into the pillow, hating myself for it but unable to stop. In my mind, he was there, fingers pumping relentlessly, thumb grinding against my c**t.

"Come for me," he'd growl, and that was it—the coil snapped.

The o****m washed over me, intense and shattering, my inner walls clenching around my fingers as pleasure burst outward. I cried out, muffled against the sheets, body convulsing with the release. Stars burst behind my eyelids, every nerve alight, from the tips of my toes to the sensitive peaks of my breasts. It lingered, aftershocks making me twitch, until I finally stilled, hand slipping away, sticky and spent.

For a moment, I floated in the haze, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. Then reality seeped back—the unfamiliar room, the estate's quiet judgment. Shame twisted in my gut, mixing with the lingering glow.

Masturbating to thoughts of Ryder? The man who held all the cards here, who ruined me. Pathetic. I rolled onto my side, pulling the sheets up, but the ache was sated, leaving clarity in its wake.

Clarity brought planning. I couldn't control much in this house—the lockdowns, the guards, Ryder's impenetrable facade. But I could reclaim some power and test boundaries.

An idea started to take from making me smirk in the dark.

Tomorrow, at the pool. I knew the rotation; I'd been observing without realizing it.

A face came to mind, making me smile more. The guard who had looked at me, he would be by the pool. He wasn’t in Ryder’s inner circle but he was enough to send a message.

I pictured it: slipping into that tiny bikini I'd found on a whim, the one that left little to the imagination. Lounging by the water, sun on my skin, asking him for sunscreen with just the right amount of innocence. His hands on my back, hesitant at first, then bolder.

A flirtation that could escalate—lips brushing, bodies pressing, right there where Ryder might see. Or hear about it. This was a way to remind myself I wasn't trapped in this attraction to him. Proximity and adrenaline, that's all it was. Seducing the guard would prove it by shifting the power, make Ryder react and give me leverage in whatever game we were playing.

I thought about the risks as well.

I'd cause a potential fallout, but the reward? Control. A c***k in Ryder's armor. I smiled into the dark, the plan solidifying.

what I'd say? "Could you help me with this? I can't reach." It was simple and was going to be effective.

Sleep tugged at me then.

Tomorrow, I'd test the theory. And if it blew up? Well, at least I'd be the one lighting the fuse.

The estate settled around me, guards patrolling, Ryder somewhere in his wing. But in my head, the pieces moved. Power wasn't given here; it was taken. And I was done waiting.