Page 107 of Chandelier Enthralled
I was swept away, everything erased—my past, my sense of self. In this euphoria, I let go completely, no longer holding on to who I thought I was. Only the present existed, only he existed with me—our bond raw and real as I surrendered to it, felt consumed by it, by him.
Leaning against the wall, sated and breathless, I was unsure about turning around to face him. This was what passion felt like, and the revelation was startling.
“Willa.” His voice beckoned me to turn around.
He took my hand in his and walked me over to a door that led to a bathroom. It was in there that he took care of me, wiping away any evidence of my arousal.
He cleansed me, his touch gentle yet purposeful—tender and strong—like a man who understood exactly what I needed to endure the secrets of this moment.
He said nothing, but his gaze was full of understanding. There was a calm about him, a certainty that he could handle everything now—take care of it all.
He was getting me out of here, taking me to safety, returning me to the world I knew. But even as I leaned against his tall, solid frame, I understood that I was forever changed. After this, there would be no pretending it hadn’t happened, no erasing the reality of what I had seen and felt.
More than this, we had crossed over an intimate line, and the thought of never experiencing it with him again might just destroy me.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, but not of this place, but for what I’d done to our friendship, which had ended before it had even begun.
Deep down I knew my innocence, fragile and untarnished, made me an outsider in a place I could never belong.
The more I sensed this, the heavier my heart became—a painful realization that I would always be something he would never want to claim.
“Why didn’t you fuck me?” I had to know.
“Your fingers belonged to me in that moment, each strum of your touch, every movement, was for me. Your pleasure was mine, and mine alone.”
“Can we be more?”
He didn’t answer, and instead, picked me up into his arms and carried me out, heading towards the elevator.
We rode down in the elevator with me still in his arms, his strong grip keeping me close as though he feared I might wriggle free and try to escape.
Shuddering, I nestled my head into the crook of his neck. “I left my coat at the entrance.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“I’ll come back for it.”
“I can come back.”
He let out a growl and then whispered, “Keep your eyes closed until we’re out.”
But I had already seen so much there was no turning back. Now that my eyes had been opened, there was no way to unsee what had been burned into my retinas.
His secret world has been laid bare.
Greyson’s driving was a testament to his dominance. He’d again highjacked my brother’s car, with me in it.
We were cutting through the traffic, dodging speeding cars on the freeway, with Greyson pushing the limits, his hands gripping the wheel. He’d insisted I wear his tuxedo jacket to “keep me warm,” but I suspected it was to cover this skimpy red bodice.
His strong arms, revealed by his rolled-up sleeves, flexed and each movement was one of deliberate control, undeniably commanding.
“Call your brother.”
“What do I say?” I pulled my phone out of my bag. “Don’t want to,” I muttered.
“At least text him.”
