The Incest

Chapter Thirteen

Cora’s POV

The balcony was supposed to be mine tonight. My escape hatch.

Just me, the waves, and the stupid sea breeze that kept slapping my hair in my face like it had beef with me.

I gripped the cold railing tighter, staring at the dark water. The ocean was loud. Chaotic. Perfect cover for the mess in my head.

Except apparently, I wasn’t the only one who thought sneaking out here was a good idea.

The sliding door groaned open. My stomach dropped.

“Can’t sleep either?”

His voice. Low. Smooth. Too smug.

I didn’t turn around. “Go back inside, Xavier.”

He ignored me, obviously. “Why? Balcony’s big enough.” His footsteps came closer, slow like he was doing it on purpose.

I exhaled hard, trying not to spin around and shove him back inside. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet…” He was behind me now, close enough that I felt his warmth even with the damn wind. “You never move when I follow you.”

I whipped around, arms crossed so tight my ribs ached. “Maybe I was hoping you’d get the hint.”

His mouth curved into that infuriating half-smile. “Three hints, three days of silence, three nights of you running off… yeah, I got it.” His eyes flicked over me, sharp. “You’re scared.”

My chest clenched. I snapped before I could stop myself. “Scared of you? Please.”

“Not of me.” He stepped closer, and I backed up until the railing dug into my spine. His hand brushed a strand of hair off my face, slow and deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. “You’re scared of what happens when you stop fighting me.”

Oh, f**k no. My brain screamed at me to push him away. My body? Useless. Frozen.

I shoved at his chest, but he caught my wrist mid-air and pressed it against him.

And just my luck—his heart was hammering. Loud. Fast. A damn drumbeat under my palm.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his forehead brushing mine. “That’s you, Cora. You think you’re the only one losing it?”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Betrayal. My stupid voice had ditched me.

“You drive me insane,” he went on, rougher now. “Every curse. Every eye roll. Every time you act like you don’t give a damn—” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “—I know you do.”

Shivers. Everywhere. Traitor body.

“Xavier—” My voice cracked, weak, pathetic.

“Say you don’t feel it,” he murmured, holding me tighter. “Say it, and I’ll let you go.”

The words stuck in my throat. My chest heaved. The ocean roared. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t.

His smile was soft, wrecking me. “That’s what I thought.”

And then he kissed me.

Not playful. Not mocking. Real. Deep. His lips crashed into mine like he’d been starving for it. My knees nearly buckled, and his arm slid around my waist, steadying me like he owned the right.

Every nerve lit up. My brain went blank. My chest screamed yes while my head screamed run.

When he finally pulled back, breathless, his voice was hoarse. “You’re mine, Cora. Whether you admit it tonight or not doesn’t change a thing.”

I just stared at him, lips tingling, furious at him for stealing my oxygen, furious at myself for not pushing him away.

And for once… I didn’t.

---

Morning came way too bright. Like the damn sun had a personal vendetta against me.

I cracked one eye open and instantly regretted it. Sunlight was pouring through the stupid floor-to-ceiling villa windows, bouncing off the white walls, stabbing straight into my skull. Whoever designed this place clearly hated people with hangovers or period cramps. Or both.

Except…

I wasn’t alone.

My head was pillowed against a warm chest. An actual chest. A chest that rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, like some human-sized lullaby.

I blinked blearily and tilted my face up. Xavier.

His jaw was tilted toward me, sharp lines softened in sleep. Hair a mess, lips parted, brows relaxed for once. He looked so—ugh. Not fair. No one should look like that unconscious. Meanwhile, I probably had dried drool somewhere and eye bags for days.

The blanket was tangled around us, his arm heavy across my waist, practically glued to me like he’d sworn an oath not to let go even in his sleep.

And the worst part?

I didn’t hate it.

Actually… I might’ve melted into it during the night.

Traitor body.

I froze completely still, trying to figure out how the hell I got here. Last night… cramps, couch, tea, his annoying voice refusing to leave me alone… then his chest, his arms, his warmth. And then—oh God—the balcony.

The kiss.

My cheeks burned at the memory. His mouth on mine. His words. You’re mine, Cora.

I squeezed my eyes shut. No. I couldn’t think about that. Not with him literally wrapped around me like a human straightjacket.

I wiggled carefully, testing if I could sneak out without waking him. Bad idea. His grip instantly tightened, dragging me flush against him.

I froze again.

“Stop moving,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep, eyes still shut.

My breath caught. “Let me go.”

“No,” he whispered, face burying into my hair. “Five more minutes.”

God help me. My heart was hammering like I’d sprinted a mile, and all he wanted was five more minutes.

I should’ve shoved him off. Rolled away. Something. Instead, I stayed there. Five minutes turned into ten. His chest was steady against mine, his warmth bleeding into me. I hated how good it felt. Hated it enough to want more.

But eventually, the cramps twisted in my stomach again, making me wince. That snapped me out of it. I carefully slid his arm off me, slipped out of bed, and grabbed the nearest hoodie.

He didn’t stir. Thank God.

I padded out of the bedroom, my steps echoing too loud on the marble floor.

---

The villa felt different in the morning. Too quiet, too echoey, like every corner was waiting for a fight to happen. I wandered toward the kitchen, hoping for tea, maybe some painkillers if the universe loved me.

That’s when I heard it.

Xavier’s voice. Low. Smooth. From outside.

I frowned, following the sound. The sliding door to the patio was cracked open, and there he was—standing barefoot on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear. His hair was even messier now, sticking up from sleep, and his voice carried just enough for me to catch pieces.

“Yeah… I know. I miss you too.”

I stopped dead.

What?

My stomach lurched.

He turned slightly, still facing the sea, voice soft but clear. “Don’t worry, I’ll call again later. You’re still my girl.”

Girl.

My chest imploded.

I didn’t even breathe as the words slammed into me. My fingers went cold, my throat closing up.

Girlfriend.

Of course. Of course he had one. Why wouldn’t he? He was Xavier—the stupid, smug, perfect guy who always had everything. Why the hell did I think last night meant anything?

The kiss. The cuddling. The whispered crap about me being “his.”

It was all a game. A joke. I was just entertainment while his real girlfriend was somewhere waiting for him to call.

Heat stung my eyes. I blinked fast, refusing to let the tears fall, but they came anyway, hot and stupid.

I backed away from the door like it had burned me. Quiet. Careful. If he saw me, I’d break.

I sprinted down the hall, into my room, and slammed the door shut. My chest heaved, tears blurring my vision as I collapsed onto the bed.

He had a girlfriend.

I’d kissed him. Slept in his arms. Melted like some pathetic i***t while he probably laughed about it inside.

My fists clenched in the blanket, nails digging into my palms.

You’re such a fool, Cora.

I curled on my side, sobs breaking free before I could stop them. It hurt worse than the cramps. Worse than anything.

Because for three seconds—for one night—I thought maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

But he didn’t. He never did.

And now I hated him for it.

---

The rest of the day, I didn’t come out. I didn’t answer when he knocked. Didn’t flinch when he called my name through the door.

“Cora? You okay?”

Silence.

“Come on, say something. Did I do something?”

Yeah. You did everything.

I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, ignoring him until his footsteps faded away.

If he wanted to play games, fine. Two could play.

From now on, Xavier didn’t exist to me.

Even if it killed me.

The villa felt smaller after that morning. Not cozy-small. Suffocating-small.

Every corner I turned, he was there. Xavier. Acting like nothing happened. Acting like my chest wasn’t in pieces.

I ignored him.

If he said, “Morning,” I brushed past him like the air had spoken.

If he tried to grab my wrist, I flinched so hard it looked like he’d burned me.

If he cracked one of his stupid smirks, I stared straight through him like he wasn’t worth the oxygen.

It was almost funny—almost—watching his face shift from smug to confused to frustrated. Almost.

The first time he tried to sit next to me at breakfast, I got up mid-bite and carried my plate to the sink. Didn’t look at him once. Just clattered the dish down, marched back to my room, and slammed the door.

Let him stew in that silence.

Because what was I supposed to do? Pretend last night didn’t happen? Pretend his mouth on mine, his arms around me, his words whispering “you’re mine” weren’t already branded into my chest?

I gave him everything. My first kiss. My guard. My stupid, traitor heart. And the whole time he had a girlfriend waiting on the other end of the phone.

Nope. Screw that. Screw him.

So yeah—I ignored him. I iced him out so cold the villa could’ve doubled as Antarctica. And every time his voice cracked with something almost vulnerable—

“Cora, what the hell did I do?”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Talk to me, dammit.”

—I just shut the door harder.

If he touched my shoulder, I stiffened until he let go. If he lingered in the hall, I brushed past without a word. If he leaned too close, I made my face blank.

Let him feel what it’s like to be invisible.

Because that’s exactly how he made me feel.

---