Chapter 66
I exhaled, eyes falling closed as the orgasm rolled through me,
dizzying and perfect.
My obedience.
My pleasure.
His pleasure.
And the terrifying realization that I had absolutely, irrevocably lost
my damn mind.
After giving head for the first time in my life–and all else that went
on–I felt like I’d been run over by a semi. My throat was raw, my balls
ached, and my limbs were made of jelly. I didn’t know if it was the
emotional breakthrough, the physical intensity, or just the whiplash
of being seen, owned, and wrecked all in one night–but I couldn’t
keep my eyes open anymore.
Aiden noticed.
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He guided me to the shower, running the water until it was the
perfect temperature, then pulled me under the stream with him. I
expected him to bark out instructions or hand me the soap, but
instead, he washed me. Carefully. Thoroughly. His fingers moving
over my skin in slow, reverent sweeps.
“You need rest,” he said quietly, rinsing the shampoo from my hair.
“Tonight was a lot for you.”
I didn’t argue. Didn’t even nod. I just stood there and let him take
care of me.
By the time we dried off and made it to bed, I was half asleep already.
But then he kissed me–slow, sweet, nothing like what we’d just done.
It felt like the start of something.
He pulled me close, and I sank into the warmth of his chest, letting
his heartbeat lull me into sleep.
I don’t know what time it was when I woke up. The room was dark,
quiet. Aiden’s arm was still wrapped around me, heavy and secure. I
slipped out of bed carefully and padded toward the bathroom, but as I
made my way back, something caught my eye.
The light from the hallway spilled softly into Aiden’s office. The door
was open.
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I paused.
I wasn’t snooping. Not really. I just felt… curious. Like walking
through someone’s memories and getting to know them better. The
man who owned me. Who kissed me like I mattered. Who told me I
was his.
The office smelled like him–leather and spice and a hint of wood
polish. I ran my fingers over the edge of his desk, the clean lines of
the oak, the familiar scuff marks near the keyboard. His trophies were
lined neatly along the back wall, framed photos from his time as a
player. He looked younger then, just as intense.
The bookshelf caught my eye. A row of thick, well–worn volumes.
Psychology, literature, leadership. My fingers trailed along the spines
until one title stuck out. Not because of the name, but because it was
crooked…. I pulled it, and a photo album fell out from behind it.
It wasn’t labeled. Just a plain, black, leather–bound book. I hesitated.
For half a second, I thought about putting it back. But I didn’t.
I sat down in his chair, opened it… and my chest clenched–Aiden.
With someone else. The first few photos were innocent enough. A
blond guy, maybe my age, grinning in a sun–drenched field. Aiden
standing beside him. They looked… close.
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Then the next set hit me like a punch to the gut–bondage,
restraints…. That same boy, collared, cuffed, bound in positions I
hadn’t even imagined yet.
The look on Aiden’s face wasn’t the usual cool, unreadable mask. He
looked hungry. Intimate. Possessive.
My heart twisted.
I slammed the album shut, harder than I meant to, and shoved it back
into its hiding place before I could think. My pulse thundered in my
ears…. Who the fuck was that? I didn’t know this guy. Didn’t know
the story. But suddenly, I hated him.
I stalked back to the bedroom, climbed into bed, and clung to Aiden
like a lifeline, burying my face into his chest.
He was mine now. And no fucking golden twink was gonna take Aiden
from me.
