𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+

28 | Lonely Hours

I awaken to a knock on the door. It's the middle of the night now, and a wild storm rages outside the glass windows. Between the pulses of lightning, I manage to see the time on a clock. It's two in the morning.

Odd, but then I realize where I am and who owns the estate. Two in the morning visits are never out of the question for Cato Leveque.

I can just not open the door for him. Then I can avoid any temptations I have for him at this hour.

Thunder rattles the walls, and I hear Cato knock louder.

"I know you're awake, Maureen," his deep voice bellows.

It's like my limbs are now operated by my heart instead of my brain. I find myself standing at the door, opening it up to the glorious man standing on the other side.

Gods, I've never seen Cato shirtless until now. Well, I have, but not with his astronaut-maintained physique. Muscles ripple down his skin, and I follow the veins on his forearms down to his fingers. He leans against the doorframe as my eyes fall lower to his abs, but stop as my gaze reaches the hem of his sweats.

He touches my chin, lifting up my lost eyes. His green eyes remain a little drowsy, enough of a sign that he had been asleep at one point. His messy chestnut hair remains unkept with cowlicks in every direction, but one curl manages to fall into those forest irises.

I narrow my eyes on his face. In the lightning flashes, I know he can see my flushed cheeks. "There's no need for you to be knocking on my door at this hour."

He shrugs. "I know you hate storms."

"And I know you know to keep this chaste between us," my voice quivers, exposing my intimidation to his attraction.

He pushes himself off the doorframe and takes my arm, bringing me into the room as the door closes behind us. He finds a chair by an empty desk, pulling it out to sit on it. He leans back in the chair, letting the lightning flashes illuminate each crevasse of his chest and abdomen.

He nods at the bed. "Take a seat then."

This man. He controls me with every flash of his smile, and damn those muscles of his that he flaunts. They work to his advantage. I can ask him to cover up, but then I wouldn't get to see him in all his glory, which is very pleasing to the female eye.

"So? How do you like it so far?" he gestures to the large spare bedroom.

The view is magnificent, I almost say while staring at him, but I refrain.

"It's a lot," I mutter. "You shouldn't be favouring me compared to the others."

"You're not like the others."

"You're supposed to view me as a servant if I'm going to work here from now on."

He crosses his arms. "You have nothing to be afraid of in my estate."

"I know, but I don't want you to make the wrong decision."

"You know I've already made my decision about you," he leans in a bit, biting the bottom of his lip for only a moment. "Come on. How long did you think we were gonna last by being separated?"

"I didn't suspect you to be the weak one," I retort.

"I may have agreed, but I never said I was going to make it easy."

I dig my fists into the quilts beneath me. "Damn you."

He grins at this reaction and leans back again. Thunder roars, and lightning flashes. When I close my eyes, I picture him and I when we were twelve. The storms became my biggest enemy, and Cato became my shield. He protected me. He held me. We would whisper to each other to distract my mind from the violent storm outside my window.