Chapter 115
Angela POV
Suddenly, a large hand reached up from behind and grabbed my left breast through my T-shirt.
The unexpected touch made me gasp, my breath catching in surprise.
"What's wrong?"
Jessica must have heard me, and I couldn't tell if she was suspicious or just worried. I heard her turn the doorknob, trying to get in.
But Sean had already locked it earlier, so no matter how hard she twisted the handle, the door wouldn't budge.
"Why can't you open the door? Are you okay? Say something!"
"I'm fine," I managed to say, trying to steady my breath. "I just lost my balance for a second, almost fell. But I'm okay now."
"Really?" Her voice sounded unsure, but I could hear her hesitation. She wasn't leaving.
That's when Sean's fingers unhooked my bra with a flick. Panic surged through me, and a sharp scream slipped out.
His hands didn't stop-warm and insistent, they roamed over my skin, igniting a shiver I couldn't control.
My body trembled, caught between resistance and a traitorous ache I hadn't felt in years.
Jessica didn't seem to have gone anywhere yet. "Are you sure you're alright? If you want, you can open the door and let me check if you're hurt."
"No need," I said quickly, praying she'd just go away. "I'm almost done changing. You should head to the racetrack."
Sean's hand slid under my shirt, cupping my bare breast, his thumb brushing roughly against my nipple.
I bit my lip hard, stifling the sound threatening to escape.
Then his other hand clamped over my mouth, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, "If you don't want anyone to hear, you'd better stay quiet."
His teeth grazed my right earlobe, and I flinched.
Jessica's footsteps finally faded. I exhaled shakily, relief washing over me-until I sank my teeth into his hand. He yanked it back with a hiss, then grinned, wicked and unrepentant.
"Still fierce as a cat," he said, his voice low and teasing.
I glared at him, my chest heaving.
"You're insane-this is a changing room!"
But he ignored me, pulling me closer until our bodies pressed together. His scent hit me-tobacco, earth, and something distinctly him.
I shoved at his chest, but it was like pushing a wall. He pinned me against it instead, his grip unrelenting.
"Five years, Angela," he growled, his tone thick with longing and frustration.
"Do you know how much I've missed you?"
His hand slipped under my shirt again, skin on skin, kneading my breast with a need that made my breath hitch.
I clenched my jaw, fighting the heat pooling in my core, but my body betrayed me-it remembered him too well, every touch, every press of his fingers igniting echoes of a past I'd sworn to forget.
"Let me go,"
I snapped, my voice shaking with a fury I barely felt over the chaos inside me.
I wanted him gone-out of my life, out of my head-but my skin flushed under his touch, craving more even as I recoiled.
He didn't let go.
His lips crashed against my neck, teeth scraping my collarbone as his other hand fumbled with my pants, popping the button open with a reckless urgency.
His fingers slid inside my underwear, bold and unhesitating, brushing against me with a familiarity that made my knees weak.
I grabbed his wrist, trying to stop him, but he was stronger-always had been.
His touch was deliberate, sliding, pressing, until wetness coated his fingers, and I hated how my hips twitched in response, a silent confession I couldn't take back.
"Don't pretend," he rasped, his breath ragged against my skin. "You still want me-I can feel it."
His fingers thrust deeper, and a muffled whimper escaped me, my legs buckling as I gripped his shoulders to stay upright.
My mind screamed no, but my body sang yes, and the contradiction tore at me like a blade.
I wanted to be done with him-truly done.
I'd spent years building walls, convincing myself I was free of Sean, free of the chaos he brought into my life.
But here, pinned against this cold wall, my resolve crumbled under the weight of his touch.
I despised myself for it-for the way my pulse raced, for the way I still felt that flicker of longing when I'd sworn he meant nothing to me anymore.
How could I still be this weak? How could my body revel in him when my heart wanted him erased?
His phone rang, shrill and jarring, shattering the moment.
I jolted, but Sean didn't stop.
He pulled it from his pocket with his free hand, glanced at the screen-Tristan-and answered without hesitation.
"What?" he barked, his fingers still moving inside me, relentless.
I squirmed, torn between shoving him off and the shameful pulse building beneath his touch, a fire I couldn't extinguish.
"Man, where are you?" Tristan's voice crackled through the speaker. "The race is about to start."
"I'm busy," Sean said curtly, his eyes locked on mine, dark with intent. His thumb circled me now, slow and torturous, and I dug my nails into his arm, biting back a moan that threatened to betray me completely.
"Busy? With what? Get your ass out here!" Tristan sounded impatient.
"I said I'm busy," Sean snapped, hanging up.
He tossed the phone onto the bench with a clatter, then grabbed my hips, spinning me to face the wall.
Before I could protest, he yanked my pants down to my knees, his erection pressing hard against me through his jeans.
"I'm not waiting another second," he muttered, unzipping himself with a sound that echoed in the small space.
"Sean, no-" My voice cracked, raw with desperation, but he was already there, nudging my thighs apart.
The blunt heat of him pushed inside, stretching me, and I gasped, my hands splaying against the wall for balance.
He groaned, low and guttural, as he thrust-deep, possessive, claiming me like no time had passed.
My body clenched around him, torn between resistance and a surrender I couldn't stop.
Five years, and he still fit like he belonged there, like my flesh had never forgotten.
His pace quickened, one hand gripping my hip, the other sliding up to squeeze my breast again.
"You're mine," he breathed against my neck, his voice shaking with need. "You've always been mine."
Each word punctuated a thrust, and I couldn't stop the sounds spilling from me-soft, broken, desperate.
The pleasure crashed over me, but so did the guilt, the confusion, the hate. It was too much-too complicated. My chest tightened, and suddenly, the dam broke.
"How can you do this to me?" I choked out, my voice cracking as tears spilled down my cheeks.
I hated him, hated myself more, for the way my heart still stuttered at his touch.
Sean froze, his breath halting as he felt the shift.
His lips brushed my tears, kissing them away with a tenderness that clashed with everything he'd just done.
Then he stopped, pulling back slightly, his hands falling to his sides. He stared at me, lost, his expression crumbling into something uncertain.
"Angela, I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice rough with regret, but it was too late. The tears wouldn't stop, and neither would the storm inside me.