Chris's scent lingered in the room. It was warm, intoxicating, and stubborn, refusing to fade no matter how much she wanted it gone.
Bella pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window, her breath fogging the pane. Her chest rose and fell in jagged rhythm, as if the air itself mocked her. Inside her, a storm brewed—disbelief, rage, betrayal. The fire she had buried for months was clawing its way up from the pit of her stomach.
She hated herself for wanting him.
Behind her, Chris leaned against the doorway, tall frame shadowed, eyes burning. "Bella," he rasped, voice raw and brittle, "I swear. Nothing happened between me and your mom. I—"
The sound of him hit her like lightning, crawling down her spine, setting every nerve alight. She wanted to scream at him, to slap him, to claw him until his skin bore her pain. Beneath the anger and doubt, another hunger stirred—dark, raw, and relentless.
Chris stepped forward. Slow and cautious. Like approaching a wild animal ready to snap.
Her chest tightened. She had been holding herself back for so long she hadn't realized how close she was to breaking.
Then, like glass cracking under too much pressure, she snapped.
Bella turned with a storm in her eyes and surged toward him. Her fists gripped his shirt, dragging him down to her. Their mouths collided, not tender but savage. Teeth clashed. Lips bruised. Tongues warred. It wasn't a kiss; it was punishment and surrender rolled into one.
A groan rumbled in Chris's throat as his hands clamped her waist. He pulled her tight, as if the ground beneath them might vanish.
"I… I can't lose you," he whispered against her mouth, trembling.
"You already broke me," Bella hissed back, voice cracked with fury and longing. "And yet… I can't stop needing you."
Chris's jaw clenched, his breath ragged. "Then let me fix it. With this. With us. Don't… push me away."
Her hands slid down his chest, fevered, demanding, claiming, and punishing all at once. Every brush of skin against fabric was a threat. A plea. A declaration.
Buttons tore open beneath her trembling fingers. Chris's hands moved faster, tracing her curves, cupping, sliding, leaving trails of fire.
Bella's breath hitched—half fury, half grief, and a pulse of raw lust.
"I hate that I want this," she whispered against his lips. "I hate that I still want you."
"Then don't hate it," Chris growled, pulling her so close it hurt. "Let me burn with you."
The tension thickened until it burst. Their lips clashed again, harder, mouths desperate. Clothes scattered across the floor in frantic bursts. Every kiss, every touch carried months of longing, betrayal, and unspoken apologies.
Chris's mouth trailed down her neck, sucking hard, leaving bruises as if he wanted to brand her. His hands pushed her skirt up, fingers grazing the slick heat between her thighs.
Bella gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair, torn between pushing him away and giving in to his touch.
"God… you're already wet for me," he rasped, his voice dark with need.
"Shut up," she breathed, but her hips betrayed her, rocking against his hand.
He slid two fingers inside her, slow, deep, and curling until her knees buckled. Bella moaned, raw and unguarded, nails digging into his shoulders.
"Say it," he demanded, curling harder. "Say you want me."
"I hate you," she gasped, her body trembling around his fingers.
"Liar," Chris hissed, pulling his hand away and sucking her wetness off his fingers. "You want me more than you can breathe."
She shoved him, furious that his words cut so deep, but he only laughed—a rough, broken sound. He then lifted her and threw her onto the bed.
Bella's heart raced, blood roaring in her ears. She should've stopped him. She should've screamed. Instead, she spread her legs wide as he crawled between them, ripping the last piece of fabric from her body.
Chris's mouth replaced his fingers, tongue flicking, sucking, devouring. Bella arched off the bed, a cry ripping from her throat. "Chris—"
He groaned against her, gripping her thighs to hold her still. Every stroke of his tongue dragged her closer to the edge. She clutched the sheets, her body thrashing, tears burning her eyes as the heat consumed her.
When the climax hit, it was violent. Her back arched, her cry echoing through the room as her body trembled beyond control.
Chris didn't stop. He drank her down like a starving man, groaning as though her taste was the only salvation he knew.
Before she could catch her breath, he was over her, kissing her mouth, making her taste herself. His cock pressed hard against her entrance, hot and demanding.
"Chris…"
"I can't wait," he growled, thrusting into her in one desperate stroke.
Bella's cry split the air, her nails tearing into his back. He filled her, stretched her, and broke her all over again. Their bodies slammed together, sweat and skin and heat colliding.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tender. It was survival.
"Harder," she gasped, tears streaking her cheeks. "Punish me. Make me forget…"
Chris moved with a brutal rhythm—each thrust a clash between anger and redemption. He gripped her hips, lifting and slamming, moaning her name like a prayer, a curse, and a confession.
"I've missed you," he groaned into her ear. "Every night… every thought… it was always you."
"You ruined me," she sobbed, clutching him tighter. "And I still want more."
"Then take it," Chris growled, thrusting so deep she screamed. "Take everything. I'm yours. Always yours."
Their rhythm grew wild and desperate, both fighting and clinging. Bella's cries blurred into confessions. Chris's groans carried guilt and worship. Every slam of their bodies was an argument, every gasp an apology.
Her orgasm ripped through her like fire. Her body convulsed, clenching around him until his curse tore through the air. Chris followed, undone, spilling inside her with a guttural groan, clutching her like he'd die if he let go.
They collapsed together, tangled, breathless, trembling. Sweat-slicked skin met, lips brushed, but words failed them. Nothing felt the same anymore.
Chris brushed her damp hair back, kissing her temple. "I know this doesn't fix us… But I needed you. Needed us."
Tears slipped down, warm against his chest. Her lips moved, but the words clashed with the thoughts screaming inside her. "One step at a time," she whispered. But the question echoed: Can I forgive my mom? Can I trust Chris again?
For a moment, the silence held them, fragile, almost tender. Their bodies still hummed with heat, hearts racing out of sync.
Then the sound broke it—sharp, cruel, intrusive.
Chris's phone rattled hard against the nightstand.
Neither moved at first. Bella reached for her phone, ready to ignore the buzzing screen—until she saw the name flashing. The blood in her veins turned to ice.
William.
Her pulse spiked, throat tight. She shot upright, eyes locking onto Chris's. "Why is William calling you?"
Chris didn't answer. His jaw clenched, his hand twitching as if he wanted to silence the call without touching it.
Bella's voice cracked, raw and jagged. "Chris. Answer me. Why the hell is William calling you?"
The phone rang on, shrill, merciless, slicing through the air like a blade.
Chris's eyes stayed on hers, dark, guilty, and desperate. And Bella knew—whatever truth was on the other side of that call, it wasn't only going to hurt.
It was going to tear everything apart.