Chapter 62

The Morning After

A dull ache throbbed through Rhea's body as she slowly woke up. Her muscles protested as she moved, and she winced, pushing herself up against the pillows. The blanket clung to her bare skin, the sheets twisted around her legs. She was naked beneath it. Confused, her brows drew together.

What happened last night?

She searched her memory but found nothing—just silence. No clear image. No words. Only a strange warmth in her chest and a flutter of panic rising fast.

Before she could think more, the bathroom door creaked open.

Lex stepped out.

A towel hung low on his hips, and water still clung to his skin. Droplets ran down his chest and abs, tracing the lines of muscle until they vanished into the towel. His dark hair was damp, curling at the ends, one strand stuck to his temple. He looked at her—really looked at her—and walked closer.

"You really don't remember?" His voice was low, teasing, like velvet laced with heat. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Want me to remind you? Or… should we do it again?"

Rhea's heart stuttered.

"F– off," she snapped, clutching the blanket tighter around her. Her eyes darted to the floor—her clothes were scattered like broken memories. Her pink skirt. Her white top. Her short pant.

Oh god.

Without another word, she jumped out of bed, grabbed the pieces, and rushed into the bathroom. The door slammed behind her.

Lex stood there for a second, staring at the closed door. Then a quiet laugh escaped him, deep and amused. He ran a hand through his damp hair.

Now I know who you are, he thought.

He pulled on a sky-blue T-shirt and black joggers. No meetings. No rush. Just thoughts—unraveling slowly.

Rhea slammed her bedroom door and leaned against it, chest rising and falling quickly. Her face burned. Her mind spun. Her body ached—in ways that told her the night had been… intense.

After a long, steaming shower, she called in sick. She slipped into black shorts and a fitted crop top, her bare waist catching the evening light. She curled up under her covers, hugging her knees. Her hair was still damp, falling over her shoulder in soft waves.

When she glanced at the mirror on her dresser, she froze.

Bruises—soft purple and red—decorated her neck and waist. Her lips looked swollen, kissed raw. A shiver ran through her. She touched her collarbone, where his mouth had been.

Her cheeks flushed.

What did we do? What did I say?

And why couldn't she forget the way his hands had felt?

The Night Before

Lex remembered it all.

She had knocked on his door just after midnight. He hadn't expected her. Her cheeks were red, her eyes glassy—she'd been drinking. A lot. She wore a pink skirt, a white top, a soft coat barely hanging off her shoulders. Her legs were bare. She was trembling, but her eyes were fixed on him.

"Why did you leave me like that?" she whispered, voice full of hurt and something else.

Something darker. Something broken.

Before he could reply, she moved—fast, desperate. Her hands gripped his shirt, pulling him down, her lips brushing his. Her breath was warm and smelled faintly of wine. He could feel the heat of her skin even through his clothes.

Then she said something. Whispered something in his ear.

That's when everything changed.

He had lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist. She gasped, her fingers digging into his back as he pressed her against the wall. Her coat slid to the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt slowly, fingers shaky but sure. Her nails grazed his chest, leaving heat in their wake.

He responded with fire of his own—kissing down her jaw, her neck, biting gently until she moaned. They stumbled toward the bed, shedding clothes with each step.

The lights were low. The city outside was silent.

Under the blanket, time blurred. Their bodies moved together, urgent and breathless. His hands traced every curve of her body. Her skin was soft, warm, trembling beneath his touch. He kissed her like he needed her—like he'd die if he didn't.

---

The Night They Couldn't Forget

It began in silence. Their eyes locked—something raw and unspoken passed between them.

Then their lips met. Hard. Hungry.

Lex's hands found her waist, pulling her closer. He moved slowly at first, then faster, more desperate. He kissed down her neck, his breath hot and uneven. Rhea gasped, her fingers digging into his arms. When he bit down, marking her, she didn't stop him. She welcomed it.

Her body responded before her mind could keep up.

When he pulled back, his eyes were darker, filled with something almost feral. He gently tugged her onto his lap.

"It's your turn," he said, voice rough, almost a growl.

Rhea hesitated. Her whole body flushed.

"You really want me to?" she asked.

Lex only smiled, tracing his fingers down her spine. "Yes. I want you."

And she did.

Her kisses started soft, uncertain—but quickly turned wild. Lex groaned low in his throat, holding her tight as she explored him with lips and hands. She whispered against his mouth, "I can't hold back…"

"Then don't," he breathed.

He laid her back down and followed, kissing her again. Deeper. Slower.

They lost themselves completely—in each other's skin, in the heat, in the night. Again and again. Time didn't exist anymore. Just touch. Sound. Breath. Fire.

Later, when their bodies had calmed, Lex curled up beside her, one arm wrapped protectively around her waist. His head rested against her chest. He listened to the soft rhythm of her heart.

As sleep pulled him under, he smiled.

Because now—he would never forget her.

And something told him… she wouldn't forget him either.