The Rose He Killed novel Chapter 87

Chapter 78: Midnight Desire 2

Bella pov

+25 Paints

“Why not?” His hand lifted, hovering near my face but not touching. “Give me one good reason that isn’t about the past.”

“Because” I struggled to think, to remember why this was a bad idea when all I could focus on was his bare chest inches from me, the smell of scotch and his cologne, the heat radiating off his body. “Because if this goes wrong, Tom suffers.”

“And if it goes right?” His thumb finally touched my cheek, barely a whisper of contact. “If we actually try and it works?”

I closed my eyes, unable to handle the intensity of his gaze. “You can’t promise it will work.”

“No, but I can promise I’ll fight for it with everything I have.” His voice was low, intimate. “I can promise I’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you. I can promise”

“Stop.” I opened my eyes, put my hand on his chest to push him away. His skin was hot under my palm, muscles firm, and I felt his heart racing as fast as mine. “Just stop.”

He stepped back immediately, giving me space. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just” I wrapped my arms around myself. “We need boundaries, Caleb. Clear ones. This co-parenting thing only works if we maintain distance.”

“Is that what you want?” He watched me carefully. “Distance?”

“Yes.”

“You’re still lying.” But he moved further away, putting the kitchen island between us. “Fine, boundaries. Tell me what you need.”

“No more late-night moments like this.” I gestured between us. “No more almost kisses or meaningful looks or touching unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Okay.” His jaw was tight. “Anything else?”

“We keep things professional. Co-parents, business partners, that’s it.”

“Is that really what you want, Bella?” His grey eyes were dark with frustration. “To spend the rest of our lives pretending we don’t feel this?”

“I don’t know what I feel!” The words burst out. “You confuse me, Caleb, years ago, you were the villain in my story, the man who destroyed everything. Now you’re making penguin pancakes with our son and looking at me like I’m something precious and I don’t know how to process that.”

“You don’t have to process it alone.” He started to move closer, then stopped himself. “Let me help you figure it out.”

“How? By pushing until I give in? By ignoring my boundaries and wearing me down?”

3

Chapter 8 Aranight Desire 2

+25 Points

“No, by being patient while you heal.” His voice was firm. “By proving through actions that I’m not that man anymore. By respecting your space even when every Instinct I have says to close the distance and show you exactly how I feel.”

The intensity in his voice made me shiver. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’m drowning and you’re air. He ran his hand through his hair. “Like every moment I’m not touching you is torture. Like I’d burn down the world if it meant keeping you and Tom safe.”

“That’s not love, that’s obsession.”

“Maybe it’s both.” He smiled, bitter and honest. “But Bella, I’m not asking you to love me back. I’m just asking you to stop running long enough to see that what we have is real.”

“I can’t.” I moved toward the door. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”

I fled to my room, locked the door, and leaned against it with my heart hammering. I could still feel his hand on my face, still see the hunger in his eyes, still smell his cologne on my skin where we’d stood

close.

I should have been relieved to escape. Instead, I felt frustrated and aching and completely wound up.

I climbed into bed, trying to calm down, but my body was humming with need. It had been years since I’d been touched by anyone, years of celibacy and focus and pushing down every desire.

Now every nerve ending was on fire, remembering the way Caleb had looked at me, the heat of his skin under my palm, the way he’d said my name like a prayer.

My hand drifted down my stomach, almost without conscious thought. I shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t let myself fantasize about him, shouldn’t give in to the want coursing through me.

But I was so tired of denying myself everything. I slipped my hand beneath my pajama bottoms, found myself wet and aching. In my mind, I saw Caleb’s eyes, dark with desire, felt his hands on my waist in the elevator, remembered the way he’d kissed me like I was oxygen.

I touched myself slowly at first, building the tension, imagining it was his hand instead of mine. In my fantasy, we hadn’t stopped in the elevator. We’d given in to the want, let it consume us.

I imagined his hands pushing up my skirt, his mouth on my neck, his voice rough in my ear saying all the things he’d said tonight. I imagined him touching me, knowing exactly how to make me fall apart.

My breathing quickened as I moved faster, chasing the release I desperately needed. I bit my lip to stay quiet, knowing he was just down the hall, knowing if I made a sound he might hear.

The thought of him hearing, of him knowing what I was doing, pushed me higher. I imagined him walking in, seeing me like this, the way his eyes would darken with want.

“Caleb,” I moaned softly, unable to stop myself.

The orgasm hit me hard, waves of pleasure rolling through me as I gasped his name again. For a few perfect seconds, I let myself feel everything-the want, the need, the desperate hunger for something I couldn’t let myself have.

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