Page 25 of Modern Romance October 2025 5-8
He didn’t thrust into her. He slammed with his full force. His hands tightened, holding her so there was no escape. Not that she ever wanted one. She groaned, revelling in the wildness of his passion. This was physical and fierce. Purely about the release—the burn of their damned endless chemistry. And again it hit—quick.
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t catch her breath. He was still pressing her into the mattress but somehow his hold felt gentler—as if he was cradling her. She never wanted to move on from this moment. Certainly didn’t want to consider what it meant—it had to be nothing.
Groaning, he finally rolled to his side, releasing her so she could breathe. But she’d liked the weight of him on her. It had anchored her after such raw physicality. But now coolness came between them.
‘I didn’t think it was possible for us to surpass ourselves,’ he muttered. ‘But we just did.’
Sex. Just sex. That was all this had ever really been. The thought skinned her already bruised heart. But worse, she was hot inside all over again. How was that even possible?Somehowthey had to end this. She turned to him—registered the smouldering need rebuilding in his eyes—knew hers reflected the same.
‘Try again.’
Chapter Seven
Ares shouldn’t havebeen able to so much as lift his pinkie finger for at least another four hours but his pulse was erratic and, despite his muscular exhaustion, his mind raced, making sleep elusive. Worse,needclawed low—cancelling all remaining capacity to rest. Bethan, however, was fast asleep, her hair a tangled river across the pillow.
He rose, quelling his rampaging inner reaction long enough to take in the light abrasions on her mouth from his stubble and the two faint blemishes appearing on her arm. There were a couple developing on him too. Neither of them had been particularly gentle. He covered her exposed limbs with the soft sheet, rejecting the tormenting temptation to wake her with a kiss. It had been so much better than he’d remembered, than he’d fantasised, than he could believe. It was devastating. As was the fact he wasstillravenous. That singularly basic experience had only served to reveal the infinite crevasse that was his need. But it wouldn’t be the same for her—she’d dated during their separation so that wouldn’t have been her first time in forever. Wouldn’t have been as shattering. But it looked as if she would sleep for a century.
He turned away. He didn’t want to think about any men she’d dated. Couldn’t stomach the jealousy filling him. It was wretched that he’d not felt thisgoodin so long. How could he be this in thrall to her still?
He rubbed his chest, soothing his stuttering pulse, and walked to the farthest bathroom. But the current unevenness of his heartbeat was different from the palpitations that had landed him in a sterile room with a plethora of sensors and wires stuck to him. Even so, he practised his damned breathing as he stood beneath a cold shower and tried to haul his wits together. Only the horrifying moment he’d caught her about to shatter her sculpture replayed in his mind. Her anger both awed and appalled him. How could she consider smashing something that had taken so much to make—not only skill, butsoul. It torehisheart that she’d wanted to destroy it. But she’d wanted to destroy the chemistry that still bound them together too. As did he. And they had just then, no? Maybe now they could both move on with their lives.
He dressed and went out to the pool. He’d not been back here since he’d been released from that two-day hospital stint. He’d wanted to remain out of sight and keep any rumours of a condition quiet from the company—and his family—while he followed doctor’s orders and ‘relaxed’. In fact, he’d done a full reset. He’d had an epiphany about his future—what he wanted to do and how. Finalising the divorce had been high up there. He’d truly thought they were over. Apparently they weren’t.
Unlike his family and basically the rest of the world, Bethan hadn’t wanted much from him other than his body. It was all she wanted still. And why was he angry with her about that when all he wanted was hers too? Because shehadwanted more. She’d wanted the heart he didn’t have. And now she didn’t. Now the sweet, warm, eagerly loving wife he’d married was irrevocably altered. She didn’t shyly admit eager, hot things that made him lose his head any more. She’d been a little irresistible marshmallow—sweet, soft, delicious—and he’d been able to read her easily. Or he’d thought he’d been able to. But her deep wishes hadn’t been as obvious as they’d appeared. Now she had claws, a spine, pride. More than that, she had a brittle veneer of cynicism. That was his fault. He missed her emotional vulnerability even though now, while guarded, she spoke with brutal honesty.
He picked up the sculpture. He’d meant everything he’d said about it. He got so lost in looking at it, he’d had to hide it. But yeah, it never should’ve been put on that shelf. She thought he wanted to keepherhidden. That he was ashamed of her when nothing could be further from the truth. He’d wanted toprotecther—from his family, no? Only stupidly he’d never explained that. And not only his family. Guilt niggled.He’dwanted to maintain some distance from her. Compartmentalise the business and the personal in his life. Grimacing, he carried her piece into the lounge.
Bethan was standing there watching him. She couldn’t have been deeply asleep at all, given she’d showered. Both her trousers and plain white tee clung to her body and made her look like a 1950s screen siren. She fiddled with the slim gold bangle she always wore. He paused just inside the threshold trying to read her shadowed eyes and not react too explicitly—he couldn’t pounce on her again when that had been so fierce and raw and...stillunfinished.
He cleared his throat. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded towards the sculpture. ‘What are you going to do with it?’
‘Put it somewhere safe.’ He reached for an easy tone. ‘I paid a lot of money for it.’
He walked past her to set it on the shelf at the back of the room—away from sun damage but able to be seen. Needing distraction, he rubbed the back of his neck, made himself sit in one of the large armchairs and dredged up conversation. ‘When did you make the leap from making props to sculpture?’
She sat in another seat. The polite distance felt ridiculous given they’d passionately stripped each other less than an hour ago.
‘You didn’t read the “about the artist” paragraph from the auction house?’ she replied.
There it was—that new little bite. He wasn’t going to overreact. He’d just answer.
‘I saw it because of an Internet alert I had on your name.’ He was unapologetic about that. He’d needed to keep a search running in case of reputational damage. The alert had pinged, he’d clicked the link and madness had overtaken him. He’d have paid anything to own it. ‘It said you were a props designer branching into custom art pieces. That you were a new and exciting artist with jaw-dropping skill. I know you were making things long before then—you were making things when you were on holiday with me, that’s why I built the studio for you, but your work then wasn’t like that—’ He paused, remembering her sitting cross-legged crafting in the shade. One day she’d spotted lacework at the local village and he’d arranged for her to meet the maker. She’d spent hours with the woman, fascinated. She’d picked it up quickly and he’d been fascinated watching her. ‘Not so...’ he shrugged ‘...complete.’
Bethan sank further into the large armchair—simply unable to get up and walk away even when she should. Too touched by the fact that he could quote part of the blurb from the auction house. That he’d seen her crafting—but of course he had, it was why he’d created that studio. Ares noticed a lot and perhaps she’d been the one not to notice some things as they actually were. His defences for one thing. His calm, arrogant facade in certain situations like the event they’d inadvertently gate-crashed at his headquarters. Like the fact he’d revealed so little about his complex family for so long and been so matter of fact about an arrangement she found quite shocking. But she’d never seen him as emotional as when he’d stopped her from smashing her sculpture. His mask was mostly back now. He was wary. So was she. Her skin—her heart—felt flayed. That sex hadn’t eased anything. She ached more, utterly exposed and emotionally strung out, too uncertain about where they now stood, so she grasped the ‘safe topic’ olive branch he’d just offered.
‘I met Elodie in my first week in London. I’d signed with a temp cleaning agency and was sent to the escape room company she managed.’
‘I would have helped you with money, Bethan,’ he muttered. ‘Was the thought of asking me so awful?’
‘Why should you have to? We made a mistake—’
‘You didn’t need tohidefrom me.’
So much for a safe topic. She bowed her head, trying to hold it together because it felt important to explain. ‘I guess I wanted to be independent. I needed to know I could be.’
She’d wanted to start over. To know she could survive—alone. Because shewasalone—she’d lost all her family. Maybe she’d rushed it with Ares because she’d been grieving and lonely and so she’d flung herself into a bubble of romance. It wasn’t real, of course it had burst and she’d needed to just...carry on and make it through herself as she should have before him.
