Chapter 2: Moving into his house
962 Words
The car rolled to a stop in front of Daniel’s house, and for a few long seconds, I couldn’t move.
It wasn’t the house that stole my breath—though it easily could have. The place looked like something from a high-end magazine: dark wood, glass panels, warm lights glowing behind tall windows. Modern. Masculine. Expensive. Everything about it screamed him.
No—it was the knowledge that in a few minutes, I’d be inside. Living with him. Breathing the air he breathed. Walking past the room where he slept.
And the worst part?
I had no idea how I was supposed to act around the man I’d been practically undressing in my imagination every night for years.
Dad swung open the trunk. “Come grab your bag.”
I did, mostly because my hands needed something to do besides shake.
The front door opened before we even reached it.
And there he was.
Daniel Hale.
He stepped out onto the porch, tall and calm and devastatingly composed in a fitted charcoal shirt that hugged his shoulders a little too perfectly. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d been running his hand through it—a habit I’d noticed long before I should have.
His gaze landed on me.
My pulse jumped so hard I nearly dropped my suitcase.
“Aurora,” he said, voice deep and warm in a way that wrapped around my spine. “Welcome.”
God. Why did a basic greeting sound like a sin in his mouth?
I forced a polite smile. “Hi, Daniel.”
He smiled back—gentle, restrained, polite.
Like he had no idea he’d just starred in a dream that left me waking up breathless.
Dad helped carry my things inside while Mom fussed about house rules and curfews and making sure I wasn’t a bother. Daniel listened patiently, hands tucked in his pockets, gaze occasionally flicking toward me with something unreadable.
Not hunger.
Not desire.
Nothing like the Daniel in my dreams.
This one was composed. Controlled. A fortress of a man.
And that made him ten times more dangerous.
“Your room is upstairs,” Daniel said when my parents were finally done. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”
His voice did something to me—calm, steady, protective. The kind that vibrated in my chest long after he finished speaking.
I nodded. “I’m sure I will be. Thanks for… having me.”
He held my gaze for a second too long.
A second my stupid heart interpreted as EVERYTHING.
“I promised your father I’d take care of you,” he said quietly.
My stomach dropped.
I hated how those words lit up something inside me—something trembling, reckless, hungry.
My parents hugged me goodbye, gave Daniel a thousand more instructions he didn’t need, then left.
The moment the door closed, silence stretched through the house.
Real silence.
The kind that didn’t have another pair of footsteps or a mother’s voice or a father clearing his throat.
Just his presence… and mine.
Daniel turned toward me slowly. Too slowly.
“So,” he said, “let’s get you settled.”
He picked up my smaller bag without asking and started up the stairs. I followed, trying not to stare at how broad his back was or how easily he moved, like the entire house belonged to him because it did.
Halfway up, he glanced over his shoulder.
“You okay? You look pale.”
Because you’re walking in front of me in that shirt, sir.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Just tired.”
His eyes lingered on me for a moment—too perceptive, too knowing—before he nodded and continued.
He showed me the guest room.
It smelled like cedar and clean sheets.
Exactly like him.
His voice broke the silence. “If you need anything, my room is next door.”
Next. Door.
My heart malfunctioned.
I swallowed. “Got it.”
He stepped back into the hallway. “Settle in. Dinner’s at seven.”
I nodded, expecting him to leave.
He didn’t.
Instead, he hesitated. For the first time all day, something uncertain flickered across his expression.
“Aurora…”
My breath stopped.
His voice dropped, lower than before. “You’ve grown up a lot.”
Heat shot up my throat.
He cleared his throat, suddenly stiff. “I mean—your parents mentioned you’re eighteen now. So I… I’ll try to give you space. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable living here.”
Uncomfortable?
Oh, if only he knew.
“I won’t,” I whispered.
He held my eyes another moment—too long, too intense—then nodded abruptly and turned away, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have.
He walked down the hall.
I tried to breathe.
I couldn’t.
Not until the faint sound of a door opening reached me.
His door.
Right next to mine.
I let out a shaky breath.
This was real.
This was happening.
And I hadn’t even unpacked yet.
I sank onto the bed, trying to calm the riot inside my chest.
Then—
A sound.
A soft thud.
A curse—low, deep—coming from his room.
And then—
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I picked it up.
A message from an unknown number.
My stomach tightened when I opened it.
Unknown: We need to talk. Now. Before you do something you can’t undo.
My pulse spiked.
Another message followed instantly.
Unknown: It’s about Daniel.
The room seemed to tilt.
I stared at the screen, heart hammering.
Before I could react—
A sharp knock hit my door.
I froze.
Daniel’s voice, low and unreadable, came through the wood:
“Aurora… we need to talk.”
- Writer
