Page 46 of Checks & Bonds

I could still feel her—every curve, every shudder of pleasure as she writhed beneath me. Her scent clung to my skin, refusing to be washed away by sweat and exertion.

She was in my blood now, an addiction I couldn't shake.

And yet, it was impossible.

I stopped, breathless, cock straining in my pants. My fists hung at my sides, knuckles raw and throbbing. The gym was silent except for the dull echo of my own breathing. Every fiber of my being seethed with hatred. I hated her. I hated Freya with a fury that threatened to consume me whole.

But it wasn't just hatred. It was something deeper, more insidious. Something that gnawed at the edges of my sanity.

I needed to cool off. I turned and headed for the small bathroom attached to the gym, each step a struggle against the relentless ache in my chest—and lower.

Inside, the stark fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh reflections off the tiled walls. I twisted the knob of the shower, letting icy water cascade from the showerhead. The chill was bracing, a shock to my overheated system.

I stripped quickly, tossing my sweat-soaked clothes into a corner. Stepping under the frigid stream, I let out a hiss as the cold water hit my skin, sending shivers racing down my spine.It felt like needles piercing every pore, but it was exactly what I needed.

The water pounded against me, but it did little to wash away her presence. Her scent still clung to me like a ghostly reminder of our time together. Her taste lingered on my tongue, her touch imprinted on my flesh.

I leaned against the cold tiles, letting the water sluice over me in an attempt to drown out the memories. My fingers dug into the grout lines as if seeking some kind of anchor in this storm of emotions.

But she lingered.

No matter what I did, she lingered.

The way her body had fit against mine so perfectly haunted me. The feel of her soft skin under my hands refused to fade from memory. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face—those conflicted green eyes staring up at me.

"Get out of my head," I muttered through clenched teeth, slamming a fist against the tiles. The sharp pain radiated up my arm but did nothing to dull the ache inside me.

The cold water continued its relentless assault on my body, but it couldn't reach where I needed it most. It couldn't freeze away the fire she had ignited within me or erase the mark she had left on my soul.

And so, even as I stood there under the freezing torrent, trying to scrub away every trace of her from my skin and mind...

Freya lingered still.

I stepped out of the shower, the icy water still clinging to my skin in droplets that trailed down my chest. The chill lingered, doing little to quell the turmoil within me. Grabbing a towel, I rubbed it vigorously over my hair, trying to shake off the lingering memories along with the moisture.

I caught my reflection in the fogged-up mirror and wiped a clear streak with my hand. What the hell happened to me?The face staring back looked haunted, shadows under eyes that once held confidence. The reflection mocked me, reminding me of how far I'd fallen. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t who I was supposed to be.

Get it together, Henry.

I wrapped the towel around my waist and moved to the linen closet outside the bathroom. Pulling open the door, I grabbed a pair of sweats and a simple white shirt. The soft cotton felt grounding as I slipped into them, a small comfort in a world suddenly turned upside down.

I headed up the stairs; the house seemed too quiet, as if holding its breath alongside me. Reaching the top, I turned towards the kitchen where Carmen would be preparing dinner.

The moment I entered, rich aromas hit me—garlic sizzling in olive oil, fresh basil mingling with tomatoes’ tangy sweetness. Carmen worked her magic at the stove, her back to me as she stirred a pot of something that promised warmth and solace.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” she called over her shoulder without turning around.

The smells enveloped me like a comforting embrace. They were familiar and steady in contrast to the chaos within me. For a moment, I stood there letting those scents anchor me back to reality.

“Thanks, Carmen,” I managed to say, my voice sounding foreign even to my own ears.

She glanced back at me then, eyes sharp but kind. “You look like you’ve been through hell.”

I gave a weak smile. “You have no idea.”

Her brow furrowed slightly before she returned her attention to dinner. The sounds of sizzling and chopping filled the air, mingling with the mouth-watering aromas.

I settled onto one of the high stools at the kitchen island, watching Carmen’s deft hands as she chopped fresh herbs. Therhythmic sound of her knife against the cutting board was almost hypnotic, a welcome distraction from the storm brewing inside me.

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