The silence after was deafening.
Reese lay still, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, the sheets tangled around her legs like a physical representation of her turmoil. Her body still hummed from what she had just allowed to happen again. It wasn't a mistake anymore.
It was a habit.
Her skin burned, not just from Christian's touch, but from the crushing weight of reality, pressing down on her like an immovable force.
She clenched her eyes shut, willing herself to breathe, to think, but every time she did, she felt him—the phantom of his hands on her, his lips against her throat, the way his body had fit against hers so perfectly, like he had been made to ruin her.
Cheater.
The word echoed in her head, over and over, a cruel, unrelenting whisper. But her body betrayed her, still tingling from the aftershocks of pleasure, still aching from the way he had claimed her like he never planned to let her go.
But he had to.
He had to.
Reese sat up suddenly, the movement sharp, abrupt. The air in the penthouse felt too thick, too charged, like the walls themselves knew what had just happened and were mocking her for it.
She yanked the sheets around herself, as if covering up now could erase the damage already done.
From the corner of her eye, she felt Christian watching her.
Studying her.
He was still in bed on the opposite end, his arm lazily draped over the sheets, his expression unreadable, but his gaze was sharp—calculating.
She felt it. The weight of his eyes on her. Burning into her skin.
He had won.
And he knew it.
"I have to go," Reese murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
She wouldn't look at him. Couldn't.
Christian sat up slowly, the movement effortless, controlled.
"Of course you do."
She ignored the faint amusement in his tone, pushing herself off the bed as she searched for her dress in the dim light. Somewhere on the floor. A crumpled, damning reminder of her betrayal.
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up, sliding it over her body quickly, desperate to shake the feeling of his hands from her skin.
Still, she refused to meet his gaze.
Christian exhaled softly, the sound both exasperated and knowing.
"Say it,"he murmured.
Her fingers paused mid-button.
She didn't turn around. "Say what?"
"That this was a mistake too."
Reese's throat tightened. She swallowed hard, fixing her dress, then reached for her bag, her back still to him. "It was."
A humorless chuckle left Christian's lips.
"Okay, Reese." His voice was low, unrelenting. "If that will help you sleep tonight."
She stiffened.
"But I don't agree with telling yourself lies."
Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag, knuckles white. She turned then, eyes blazing.
"This is not a game, Christian. This is my life!"
His expression darkened.
He rose from the bed, the sheets falling away from his sculpted torso, but he made no move to dress.
"I never said it was." His voice was calm, deliberate. "This is my life too, and unlike you, I'm not ashamed or afraid to say what I really want."
She shook her head, pacing now, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
"No," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "You don't know anything. This can't keep happening."
Christian watched her with that damn unreadable expression, before leaning casually against the edge of the bed, arms crossing over his broad chest.
"Then why does it?"
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
"I'm not making you do anything you don't want to do, Reese." His voice was silk—smooth, controlled, but laced with sharpness.
She hated that she had no answer.
Instead, she exhaled sharply, gripping her temples. She needed to leave. She needed distance, air, a way to crawl out of the suffocating mess she had made for herself.
She turned for the door.
"I'm meeting Collin for dinner. I'm going to tell him."
The moment the words left her lips, she felt it—the shift in the air, the change in Christian's posture, the way his jaw tensed just slightly before his mask of indifference settled back into place.
Christian stood slowly, finally reaching for his slacks, buttoning them with an ease that made it clear he was completely unbothered.
He walked toward her, not stopping until he was so close she could smell the lingering scent of her own perfume on his skin.
"Tell him,"he murmured, his voice like a challenge, "tel him how you scream my name and don't spare him the details."
Reese's breath hitched, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
"Stop."
He lifted his hand as if to touch her, but at the last second, his fingers barely grazed her cheek before he let them fall.
"You think by telling him, it will push me away. But it won't," he said simply.
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she let out a shaky breath, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Her heels echoed against the penthouse hallway as she made her way to the elevator, her hands clutching her bag like a lifeline.
When the doors slid open, she stepped inside and pressed the button for the lobby.
The doors closed, sealing her inside.
It was only then, in the suffocating silence of the elevator, that she allowed herself to feel it—the weight of everything crashing down.
Her stomach twisted.
Her chest ached.
Collin's face flashed through her mind—his warm smile, his steady presence, his unwavering trust.
And she had destroyed it.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it away furiously, refusing to break.
She had to tell Collin the truth.
Even if it shattered them both.