Page 85 of Lassoed Love

Xavier’s confession tonight has sent shivers down my spine. In that moment, the unspoken tension between us surfaced, laying bare the hidden emotions that we had both tried to ignore. We’ve danced around the truth, claiming ‘just friends’. Yet, hearing his raw admission then, I couldn’t deny the undeniable connection that lingered between us.Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As the taxi sped away from the scene, I found myself doing what I’d become adept at—running away from my problems. It was a familiar pattern, one I’d repeated in the past, yet it seemed nothinghad changed. Imogen sensed my unease, warning me before we got into the taxi, well more like questioning me if I really wanted to leave. I was too conflicted, scared of the emotions that suddenly overwhelmed me, so I left.

The mess I’m in now only tightens the knot of anxiety in my chest. I swallow repeatedly, trying to push down the bubble creeping up my throat. Here in my apartment, these feelings are still raw and swirling inside me, refusing to be ignored.

Grow up, Isla.

Breathe. Stop acting this way.

You’ll be fine.

I’ll be fine—but will I?

The overwhelming nausea, a physical manifestation of my anxiety, claws its way up my throat, threatening to suffocate me. I stumble to the bathroom, desperate to rid myself of the churning turmoil within. With a gut-wrenching heave, I empty the contents of tonight’s doings into the toilet, gasping for air between retches. The acidic taste of bile lingers in my mouth, a bitter reminder of the chaos that has consumed me.

With a few deep breaths, I do my best to compose myself—wiping at my face with a wipe to rid it of all makeup, and brushing my teeth. Deciding a hot shower would feel amazing right now, I move toward it, turning on the hot water.

As I step in, the water cascading over me is a soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. The steam fills the air, cocooning me in a warm embrace, and I let out a long, slow breath, feeling the tension beginto melt away.

I towel off, the fabric rough yet reassuring against my skin, and prepare for bed, hoping that the familiar routine will bring some semblance of peace to my restless mind. Maybe some ‘New Girl’ or the latest episode of ‘Bridgerton’ will provide a temporary escape from the whirlwind of feelings I have for Xavier.

But deep down, I know I can’t ignore these emotions any longer. I need to confront them head-on, like a woman. Like astrongwoman. The thought both empowers and terrifies me. I’m done fighting against what I feel, but fuck am I scared of what this all might mean. I slip into my pyjamas and head inside to grab a bottle of water. As I’m about to grab it from the kitchen, the sudden sound of a car pulling up and a door slamming outside catches my attention. My curiosity piqued, I move towards the window overlooking the front courtyard.

A jolt of surprise courses through me as I spot Xavier’s ute parked outside. Frozen in place, I watch as he makes his way toward the entrance.What will I say to him, and what does he have to say?

With a furrowed brow, I wait, the unexpected visit sparking a mix of apprehension and anticipation. Nervously, I fidget while standing in the middle of my living room, my eyes flicking between the door and the window overlooking the courtyard. Just as the thought of an impending knock crosses my mind, a heavy rapping echoes through the silence.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and approach the door. Hesitating for a moment, I find myself staring at it, uncertainty grippingme.

“Open the door, Isla. I’m not leaving until you do,” Xavier’s voice murmurs from outside, breaking through the quiet tension. I exhale a shaky breath, my nerves always seeming to get the best of me around him. It’s a feeling I still have grasped yet. With a determined exhale, I reach for the doorknob and slowly open the door, meeting his gaze.

“Thought you could just run away from me, huh?” Xavier growls, his tone rough as he steps into my apartment, swiftly closing the distance between us. Instinctively, I take a few steps back, but he continues forward, matching my movements until I’m backed up against the kitchen island.

“Xavier, you drank tonight. You shouldn’t have driven,” I express my worry, the concern evident in my tone. However, he only glares down at me, his imposing presence sending goosebumps across my skin.

“I got here in one piece, didn’t I?” he retorts, his words laced with defiance. The tension between us thickens.

“I wasn’t done talking to you,” Xavier growls, his words carrying a weight that leaves me frozen, too stunned to speak.

“I-I—,” I stammer, attempting to form a coherent sentence, but Xavier presses further, his tone intimidating.

“I’m not going to apologise for my actions tonight—that dick deserved it,” he declares, his gaze unwavering. I glance up at his face, noticing a slit in his eyebrow with dried blood around the wound from the punch. I raise my hand slowly, softly running my fingersover his injured brow. His eyes remain locked on mine, intense.

“I should ap-apologise for mine,” I say softly, my words stuttering with nervousness. I struggle to find the right words.

“It’s just... I didn’t want you doing anything stupid, f-for nothing,” I admit, the concern evident in my voice.

He responds firmly, “It wasn’t for nothing. No one touches what’s mine.” His intense gaze holds mine, and I read between the lines.‘Mine’—the word echoes in my mind again, and I’m unsure how to process it. This intense attraction is new, and it makes me nervous. I don’t respond, and Xavier presses further.

“You have five seconds to tell me to leave—fiveseconds, Isla. Before I take you into your room and fuck you until you’re screaming out my name.” His countdown begins, and my breath hitches.

“Five,” he starts, his eyes flicking between mine.

“Four,” his gaze drops to my mouth.

“Three,” his hands grip my waist, pulling me towards him.

“Two,” anticipation builds, and a shiver runs down my body.

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