Alexia’s POV
I don’t know what happened, but Aiden was behaving... odd.
You’d think he was trying to get on my good side. And the way he kept bringing up Professor Sinclair?
He was
jealous
.
And I didn’t know how I felt about that.
Actually, scratch that—I
did
know how I felt about it.
I
liked
it.
I liked the way his jaw clenched when I mentioned the professor. I liked the way his eyes darkened when he thought I was sneaking around. And I
really
liked the way he kissed me back at school—bold, possessive, right in front of Professor Sinclair.
Was it childish? Yes.
Did I care? Not even a little.
Because for once, Aiden wasn’t acting like our relationship was just a contract, a convenience, a situation he had to tolerate.
No.
He was acting like a
man
who saw another man looking at
his
woman.
And that? That did things to me.
Even now, sitting across from him at the table as we ate, I could feel it. The tension. The way his gaze lingered on me, how he watched me like he was trying to read my every move.
It made my skin heat, my stomach twist in ways I wasn’t used to.
I wasn’t supposed to care what Aiden thought.
And yet, here I was, biting my lip to keep from smiling as he slid a drink toward me.
"Here," he said, voice smooth. "You always complain about your throat getting dry when you eat fast."
I stared at the drink, then at him. "You noticed that?"
He rolled his eyes, but there was something softer in his expression. "I notice
everything
about you, Alexia."
My breath caught.
For a moment, I forgot how to respond.
Because
what the hell was that?
Before I could call him out on it, he smirked and leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t just sent my brain into overdrive.
"So, tell me..." He swirled his drink in his hand, his gaze locked onto me. "What
exactly
did your
favorite
professor tell you about your studies?"
I groaned. "Can you
stop
calling him that?"
"Not when you get all defensive every time I do," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement. "It’s cute."
I nearly choked on my food.
Cute?!
Aiden never called me
cute
.
He called me annoying, stubborn, frustrating—but
never
cute.
I narrowed my eyes. "You’re acting weird."
"Am I?" He tilted his head, feigning innocence.
"Yes. First, you show up out of nowhere to pick me up from school. Then you kiss me like—" I stopped, suddenly feeling
way
too flustered to finish that sentence.
He grinned. "Like what?"
I grabbed my drink and took a long sip, avoiding his gaze. "Nothing."
He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction.
Smug bastard.
"Did you think about what we discussed?" Aiden asked, his voice smooth yet unreadable. Changing the topic.
I looked up at him, furrowing my brows.
What discussion?
My mind instantly went to the professor, but no—that couldn’t be it.
"You forgot." His tone held a trace of disappointment, and then, without another word, he continued eating.
The rest of dinner was quiet, though tension simmered beneath the surface. Every time I glanced at him, he seemed...
calculating
, like he was waiting for something.
And then, just as I set down my fork, he stood abruptly, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me up the stairs.
"What are you doing?" I asked, nearly stumbling as I followed behind him.
"Can’t discuss it here," he said without looking back. "Need privacy."
I didn’t argue.
Privacy
probably meant something to do with our contract marriage. Maybe he was worried the servants would overhear.
But the moment we stepped into our room, everything shifted.
Because instead of talking, instead of sitting me down for some serious conversation—Aiden caged me against the door.
His arms braced on either side of me, his body so close that his heat pressed into mine.
My heart pounded. "Wha... what are you doing?"
He murmured something, low and dark, but I barely caught it.
Reminding you about our discussion.
And then—he kissed me.
And suddenly, it clicked.
The deal.
The
pleasure without emotions
deal.
That conversation we’d had—the one I’d pushed to the back of my mind, pretending it didn’t exist.
The one where he told me we could have this, could
explore
this,
without
feelings.
And now, here he was, following through on his words.
His lips moved against mine—firm, demanding, yet teasing all at once. His hands stayed on the door, not touching me, not pushing me, just
waiting
.
Testing.
As if to see if I’d remember. If I’d
accept
.
And the worst part?
My body
wanted
to.
Because despite everything—despite the complicated mess that was our relationship, despite the jealousy, the games, the constant back and forth—when Aiden kissed me, the rest of the world
didn’t matter
.
It was just him.
Just
us
.
But I knew the moment I let myself fall into this—truly fall—there would be no going back.
No pretending it meant nothing.
So I did the only thing I could.
I pulled away.
"Aiden," I whispered, my breath uneven.
His forehead rested against mine, his own breathing just as rough. "Hmm?"
I swallowed hard, my hands clenching into fists to keep from reaching for him. "This...
us
... It’s not that simple."
His eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering within them. "It could be."
But that was the problem.
It
couldn’t
.
I could still feel the ghost of his lips on mine, the warmth of his breath against my skin, the way his body caged me in like I was something he
wouldn’t
let escape.
And the worst part?
I didn’t
want
to escape.
I should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him
no
, that this was a bad idea. That we couldn’t just pretend feelings didn’t exist, that this wouldn’t make things
simpler
—it would only make things worse.
But for once...
For once, I
wanted
this.
I
wanted
him.
For once, I didn’t want to think.
Didn’t want to overanalyze.
Didn’t want to remind myself of all the reasons this was a bad idea.
Because for the first time in a long time,
I wanted this.
I wanted
him.
I wanted to be reckless.
Couldn’t I allow myself just this
one
thing? In my otherwise pathetic existence, couldn’t I be selfish for once?
Maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was stupid. But in this moment, I didn’t care.
Why
couldn’t
I be reckless—just this once? Why
couldn’t
I be selfish?
Aiden’s lips trailed lower, skimming along my jaw, his breath hot as he whispered against my skin.
"Say yes," he pleaded, his voice raw with desperation, with need.
His mouth found my neck, lips pressing a soft, teasing kiss before moving to the sensitive spot just below my ear.
"I
know
you want this too," he murmured, his hands finally leaving the door, tracing down my sides, resting at my waist like he was giving me
a choice
.
Aiden must have sensed the shift in me because his lips curved into a knowing smirk before he dipped his head to my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
I shuddered under his touch, my body betraying me.
Because he was
right
.
I
did
want this.
I wanted
him
.
I wanted to forget everything—the complications, the jealousy, the tangled mess of emotions that neither of us dared to acknowledge.
I wanted to just
feel
.
His lips ghosted over my pulse, and my body betrayed me, arching into him, my hands finally clutching his shirt like an anchor.
Aiden exhaled sharply, his hands dropping from the door to my waist, gripping me like he was afraid I’d disappear.
"This doesn’t have to be complicated," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
But it
was
complicated.
Everything about Aiden was complicated.
Yet when his lips met mine again—softer this time, slower—I didn’t pull away.
I didn’t overthink.
Didn’t question.
Because for once, I wanted to feel.
So I made my choice.
I tilted my head, giving him better access to my throat, my fingers fisting in his shirt as I whispered the one word that sealed my fate.
"Yes."
That one word—
yes
—was all it took.
It was like something inside him snapped, the last thread of restraint completely obliterated.
"Fuck," Aiden cursed, and before I could process what was happening, his lips crashed into mine.
There was no hesitation. No gentleness. Just pure, raw hunger.
Like he was
starving
for this. For
me
.
And
god
, why had I denied myself this?
Why had I fought it for so long when this—
this
—felt like the most natural thing in the world?
I barely had time to gasp before his tongue slid against mine, coaxing, demanding,
devouring
.
My knees buckled, and I
knew
he felt it because his grip tightened in response.
Without breaking the kiss, his hands slid down to my thighs, grabbing them firmly before lifting me with ease.
A surprised gasp left my lips, swallowed immediately by his mouth as I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist.
I
felt
the relief that went through him at that moment—because of my height, he had to hunch slightly before, but now that I was up, we fit
perfectly
.
His arms locked around me, one hand splayed against my lower back, pressing me
flush
against him. The other tangled in my hair, angling my head just how he wanted—so he could deepen the kiss, so he could take even
more
.
And I let him.
Because
fuck
, I was already lost in him.