I finally understood what he meant when he said everything would change.
This wasn't just sex. This was the moment I stopped being able to lie to myself about what I felt. About what I wanted. About who I was becoming in his hands.
I pressed my palm flat against the floor, steadying myself. Breathed once. Twice. Then forced myself to stand.
My legs shook.
The ache between my thighs reminded me with every movement.
I straightened my clothes with trembling fingers, trying to smooth away the evidence.
It didn't work.
I could still feel him everywhere.
I ran trembling fingers over my neck—the mark he'd given me. Just a day ago now. Still marked. It burned. It thrilled. It destroyed me.
"I'm losing myself," I whispered into the empty bookstore.
The tears came suddenly. Violently.
Ugly, shaking, scared tears that ripped through my chest and left me gasping.
Not because I hated Gideon. Not because he hurt me. But because…
Every time he's cruel, I know how to fight him.
Every time he's soft, I don't.
And it was the softness I couldn't survive.
The cruelty made sense. The dominance. The control. The punishments.
Those were weapons I understood. Armor I could wear.
But the rest?
The way he carried me from the bath like I weighed nothing. Tucked me in with hands that should've been brutal but weren't. Bought me pajamas—comfortable ones, not pretty ones. Asked about my mother's favorite books and actually listened when I answered. Looked at me like I was something precious instead of something owned.
That kindness was a trap. One I kept falling into. One I didn't know how to escape.
I hugged my knees tighter, rocking slightly, trying to hold myself together.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
The girl who walked into this contract had been angry. Defiant. Clear about where the lines were.
That girl wouldn't have begged. Wouldn't have softened. Wouldn't have wanted him.
But I did.
I did.
I wanted his hands on me. His voice in my ear. His body pressed against mine in the dark. I wanted the version of him that asked questions and remembered answers. The one who stood in my bookstore touching spines like they were holy. The one who looked at me sometimes like he was drowning and I was air.
I pressed my fist against my mouth, trying to muffle the sob.
Because falling for Gideon wasn't just surrender. It was annihilation. And I was already halfway gone.
