Page 157 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

But emotionally… emotionally, I feel... distant. Empty, even.

The encounter… it wasn’t about connection. Not really. It was about control. About reasserting adominance I felt slipping away. Because I didn’t want to lose her.

I saw her want. Saw herneedin the moment.

And I took advantage of it.

I channeled all that anger, all that fear and fucking confusion into something physical. Something I could understand, something I couldmaster.

With the sex, I broke down the walls between us, but only temporarily, and now she’s raising them right up again.

Damn it.

I pull away. Start dressing.

As I look at Sabrina, her face flushed, her body trembling slightly as she pulls her clothes back into place, I see the cost of that control.

The emptiness I feel is a reflection of the emotional chasm I’ve perhaps just widened between us.

The physical thrill, the momentary possession… it’s already fading, leaving behind a bitter residue.

This isn’t a victory.

This is… a defeat.

For the both of us.

I’m beginning to question everything.

What the fuck am I doing?

This physical intensity, this raw, almost angry fucking… it’s not enough. It can’t be. Not anymore. It’s a temporary fix, a distraction.

It doesn’t fill the void. It just makes it deeper.

What we have isn’t sustainable. Not while I’m like this.

The silence stretches. I need to say something.

Apologize? Explain?

But the words catch in my throat.

Because what the fuck do I even say?

Sorry I’m a messed-up asshole who uses amazing sex to avoid dealing with his emotions?

Sorry I’m terrified of being a father, of being a partner, of being… vulnerable?

Yeah, that’ll go over well.

She finally breaks the silence.

“I should go check on Mia,” she says softly, not looking at me.

Yep. Walls back at full height.

She turns and walks out of the gym, leaving me alone with the weights, the rig, and the hollow echo of what just happened.

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