CHAPTER 84: INTIMACY WITHOUT FEELINGS

Aiden’s POV

Yes, I left before she woke up.

I didn’t know how to face her.

What we did... it wasn’t part of the plan.

And fuck, when I was cleaning her up, I still wanted her. That frightened me.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to happen.

I didn’t love Alexia. My heart was with Liz. I had spent years believing that. So why was I so drawn to her?

Why did the feel of her skin still linger on my hands? Why did the memory of her moans still echo in my mind?

I exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose as I sat in my office. I had thrown myself into work the moment I left her, trying to shake off whatever this was.

It was just the wine.

Just a mistake.

Nothing more.

Then why the hell did I almost go back?

After getting her a change of clothes and making sure Tobias watched over her, I had forced myself to stay away. To put distance between us.

Yet, even now, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Her soft lips.

The way she fit against me so perfectly.

The moment I realized she was a virgin.

I cursed under my breath, gripping the edges of my desk. I shouldn’t have gone through with it. I should have stopped. But in that moment, when she looked at me with those damn eyes, filled with trust, curiosity, and something else I couldn’t name—I lost every ounce of control.

And now?

Now, there was no going back.

Yeah, I called the Black brothers.

With the exception of Mike—yeah, still not cool with him taking my wife on a date.

So, I called the rest to hang out, to drink, to do anything that would make me forget about Alexia.

But nope.

It didn’t work.

No matter how many drinks I knocked back, how many times they cracked jokes, how many conversations they threw my way—I couldn’t shake her out of my mind.

Of course, they noticed.

"Okay, spill. What’s up with you?" Luke asked, narrowing his eyes at me from across the table.

"Nothing," I muttered, swirling my drink.

"Bullshit." Martin leaned forward, scrutinizing me like he could see straight through my lie. "You look like someone just ran over your dog. What’s going on?"

I exhaled through my nose. "Work problems."

They didn’t buy it, but thankfully, they let it go.

Even with them, I couldn’t shake the moment out of my mind.

Her voice. Her moans. The way her body reacted to mine. The way she looked up at me, trusting me, surrendering completely—

Fuck.

Then, Liz called.

Her name flashed on my screen, and for a second, I hesitated before answering.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft. "How are you holding up?"

I ran a hand through my hair, leaning back in my seat. "I’m fine."

"I just... I wanted to apologize again. For the scandal. I hate that you’re getting dragged into this because of me."

"It’s alright," I said, my tone automatic.

But even as I spoke to Liz, the woman I had always thought I loved...

My thoughts were on Alexia.

On how she had moaned my name, on how she had looked underneath me, wrecked and breathless.

On the fact that I was the first man to ever touch her like that.

And now... I had to be responsible for her.

I was responsible for her.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I still loved Liz... didn’t I?

But now that I had slept with Alexia, everything had changed.

Fucking wine.

So yeah, I figured by the time I got home, Alexia would be asleep.

And honestly? Thank God.

Avoiding the awkwardness, the tension, the inevitable questions in her eyes—it was the best option.

I didn’t know how to face her.

What we did wasn’t part of the deal.

Hell, I wasn’t supposed to touch her, wasn’t supposed to want

her the way I did.

But then she looked at me like that.

Then she moaned like that.

And I was gone.

Now, I was just hoping she’d be asleep so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. I could just walk in, go straight to my room, and pretend that nothing happened.

Pretend I didn’t bury myself inside her.

Pretend I didn’t completely ruin the dynamic between us.

Pretend I didn’t take her virginity and now had to deal with the consequences.

Yeah. Maybe, by some miracle, she’d be asleep, and I wouldn’t have to figure out what the hell to do next.

I wasn’t going to be that girl.

Nope.

I wasn’t going to sit here, pining, waiting, and wondering why Aiden disappeared after what happened between us.

So, I ate.

Like nothing had happened.

Like I wasn’t secretly pissed that he left me alone after sleeping with me.

Like I wasn’t annoyed that he couldn’t even bother to text or call.

Like I wasn’t overthinking everything.

But the second I heard the front door open, my grip on the fork tightened.

I didn’t look up. I didn’t react. I just kept eating, acting like I hadn’t been waiting for his stupid face to show up.

I felt him stop when he saw me. I bet he thought I’d be in bed by now, that he’d successfully avoided whatever this was.

Tough luck.

I knew she was pissed before I even stepped inside.

I had spent hours trying to drown out the thoughts of last night, yet the second I walked in and saw her sitting there, acting completely unbothered, all my efforts went to shit.

"Oh, look who finally decided to come home," she said, voice laced with sarcasm as she stabbed into her food. "What happened? Did you have to go wash off the regret first?"

My jaw clenched. I forced myself to stay calm, to keep my expression neutral. But the way she said regret—like she had already made up her mind about how I felt—made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

"You were asleep," I said, keeping my voice steady.

She rolled her eyes. "So that means you had to disappear? How original."

I sighed and stepped forward, but before I could say anything, she leaned back on the couch, waving her fork lazily in the air.

"Relax, Aiden. I’m not asking for an apology. You can do whatever you want. It’s not like we’re an actual couple."

I didn’t react, but I felt the shift in the air between us.

"You’re upset," I said.

She let out a dry laugh, stabbing a piece of steak so aggressively I almost felt bad for it. "Why would I be upset? It was just... a fun little accident, right?" Her eyes met mine, her lips curling in mock amusement. "Or are you the one making a big deal out of it?"

I exhaled slowly, trying to decide how to respond, but she didn’t give me the chance.

"Seriously, it’s fine," she continued, shoving another bite of food into her mouth like she didn’t have a care in the world. "No need to act weird. We had some wine, things happened, and now we move on. Simple."

She was pushing me. I could see it in the way she spoke, in the way she refused to actually look at me for too long. She wanted me to match her energy—to nod, agree, and pretend like today hadn’t changed a damn thing.

Except it had.

I could still feel her under me. Still hear the way she moaned my name, the way her fingers had dug into my skin like she never wanted to let go.

And now she wanted to act like it was nothing?

I let out a low chuckle, unable to help myself.

Her fork paused midair.

"What’s so funny?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

I shook my head, smirking as I leaned back. "You," I said simply. "You’re a terrible liar."

Her expression faltered for just a split second before she masked it with another exaggerated eye-roll. "And you’re an arrogant asshole. Guess we’re even."

I exhaled through my nose, pushing off the counter. "Go to bed, Alexia."

She scoffed. "What, no bedtime story?"

I ignored her, turning toward the stairs. I could feel her eyes on my back, practically burning holes into me.

I wanted to say something.

I wanted to turn around, grab her, and tell her that what happened wasn’t nothing. That I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it no matter how much I tried.

But I didn’t.

Because I knew that once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.

So I left.

And as I closed my bedroom door behind me, I realized one thing:

I had never regretted anything more than walking away from her just now.

I ran a hand through my hair, pacing my room like a caged animal.

I had managed to walk away downstairs, but now that I was alone, the restraint I’d forced on myself was slipping.

Alexia was going to come to bed soon.

And I wasn’t sure I could keep my hands to myself.

The memory of last night was still fresh—her soft skin, the way she trembled beneath me, how perfectly she fit against me. It should’ve been enough to get it out of my system, but fuck, it wasn’t. If anything, it made me want her more.

And that was dangerous.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to affect me like this. I wasn’t supposed to crave her.

I needed to talk to her.

We had to figure out a way forward—set some boundaries before this got even more complicated. Maybe if we were upfront about it, if we agreed that this was just about physical release without feelings getting involved, then I wouldn’t have to fight myself every damn time I looked at her.

Because right now?

I wanted her again.

And if she walked into this room and lay into that couch like nothing had happened...

I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist her.