The street tilted beneath Ben like the whole city had decided to punish him for every stupid choice he'd ever made. His head spun, heart thudding, the bitter burn of whiskey still sloshing through his veins. The glow of a black luxury sedan caught his bleary eyes, slowing beside the curb. His stomach sank.
"Pull over," a voice sharp as glass cut through the haze. Charles Sterling. His father-in-law-to-be. The kind of man who made you feel like every thought you'd ever had was on display.
Ben stumbled. "What....shit," he muttered, swaying. "Charles.…?"
Richard stepped out, tie loosened, shoulders squared. His eyes, sharp as knives, drilled into Ben's chest. Ben's stomach clenched. He wanted to run, wanted to curl into himself and disappear. Only… he couldn't.
Charles approached, his voice low but cutting. "Listen, you need to get your act together. Think before you move. Make choices you can stand behind."
Ben muttered under his breath, "Fucking hell… shit…"
Charles gaze softened slightly, almost like a predator acknowledging the game wasn't over yet. He stepped back toward his car. "That's all. I expect you to figure it out."
He got in, instructed the driver, and the black sedan pulled away into the night. Ben was left on the sidewalk, the city spinning around him. Whiskey haze clung to his thoughts, but Charles words echoed, grounding him just enough to realize he needed to get his bearings. He sank to the curb, head in his hands, muttering curses under his breath, the night swallowing him whole.
***
Meanwhile,Jax had taken me back to his apartment he used to share with Ben the place that still carried faint echoes of that messy chapter of my life, even though I'd never really lived there. The familiar smell of Jax on the pillows, the worn couch, the quiet.....it felt like coming home in a way I hadn't expected.
"I met him today," Jax said suddenly, voice low, as I settled onto the couch. My heart skipped. "Ben. He came to see me. Wanted to apologize, I think. I didn't make it a thing. I told him we're… busy." His gaze softened. "I wanted you to know."
I swallowed, heart thudding. "Thanks for telling me."
That tiny, tense truth hung in the air, but it didn't stop the pull between us. His fingers grazed my jaw, tilting my head toward him.
"You look dangerous," he murmured. I laughed, a little breathless. He pulled me into him, hands gripping my waist. I could feel the heat radiating off him, how much he wanted me. The kiss hit me like a live wire, wild and urgent.
We stumbled toward the living room, lips crashing, teeth catching, tongues tangling. Clothes became a mess of buttons and fabric as our bodies pressed together with feral urgency. I couldn't get enough. He pressed me against the couch, hands roaming, pulling me impossibly close. My fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp just enough to make him growl.
We broke apart only to collide again, desperate, chaotic. He pressed me against the kitchen counter briefly, mouth at my neck, biting, sucking, marking. I moaned, loud and shameless, my own hands sliding over him, dragging him toward me. Every inch of me wanted every inch of him. The tension, the need, the heat between us was a fire that refused to be tamed.
"God, you're insane," I gasped, but it was a compliment, pure and raw.
"Damn right I am," he growled, his hand slipping lower, pressing into me, making me arch against the counter. His hips thrust, rough, fast, needing, as if he couldn't wait another second. I matched him, my own movements erratic, wild, chasing him, craving him, screaming his name when he hit just the right spot.
Then he grabbed my wrist, pulled me toward the bedroom, shoving the door closed behind us. The room smelled of him, musk and something sweet that made me ache. We didn't stop. Clothes fell in a messy trail behind us, hands clinging, pressing, pulling.
In the bedroom, it was different. Slower, more deliberate. He lifted me onto the bed, and I wrapped my legs around him, urging him in. His movements were precise, skillful, hitting deep, dragging moans from my throat I didn't know I could make. I gasped, pressed my face into his chest, fingers clutching the sheets as waves of heat rolled over me.
"Fuck," he breathed, voice rough and ragged, "you feel so damn good."
I arched into him, desperate, letting him take the lead, then switching, sliding against him in ways that made him groan and curse. It became a push and pull, chaotic and electric, two different rhythms colliding, each movement sharper, hotter, more consuming than the last. We rode our own chaos, voices echoing against the walls, the tension breaking and building again, each thrust, each gasp, each curse marking us, claiming us.
When we finally collapsed, tangled, slick, and spent, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath, heart pounding, body humming, mind reeling.
After we caught ourselves, my phone buzzed. Maya.
I stared at it, chest still trembling. A simple message:
Maya: Girl-to-girl talk. Tomorrow.
I typed back: ok.
My thumb hovered over the screen. Maya never texted like this....it was short, urgent, no emojis. A flicker of worry twisted in my gut, but I shoved it down. Whatever it was could wait. Right now, Jax's arms were around me, warm and steady, and I wasn't ready to let the world back in just yet.