Page 109 of Steel Beauty

He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening as he drops his gaze to where my hand rests on his. “I don’t choose to, but the way he gets under my skin––”

I slide my hand up to his chest, feeling the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. “You don’t have to carry that alone, not with me.”

His hand moves to cover mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It’s not that I want to.” His eyes drop to our hands, as though searching for the words. “But it feels like I don’t get a choice. My head runs away with thoughts I can’t slow down. The noise, the pressure… it’s constant.”

His chest rises sharply beneath my palm. “I’m fighting a battle I don’t know how to win. And sometimes, Magnolia” —he looks up, his eyes heavy with vulnerability— “it feels like I’m losing.”

This isn’t a clash of egos or a pissing contest between two men—it’s something deeper. Alex isn’t just angry. He’s hurting. Tyson’s words might have lit the spark, but the fire comes from something far older, far more consuming—something he’s carried silently for a while.

My chest aches because I see it, even if he refuses to say it out loud. This isn’t about Tyson. This is Alex fighting to keep himself from breaking.

“You’re not losing,” I whisper, desperate to reach him. “Not with me. You don’t have to carry this by yourself, Alex. Let me in. Let me help.”

His grip on my hand tightens, his gaze lifting to meet mine. The intensity in his eyes is almost unbearable, a quiet storm that tears at me. He looks like a man carrying the world on his shoulders, and the sight of it breaks something inside me.

His jaw tightens like he’s forcing himself to stay in control. “I can handle Tyson. This isn’t something you should have to worry about. I need to keep you away from this.”

The words hit like a blow I wasn’t expecting, their impact sinking deep. He’s not just resisting me—he’s shielding me. Protecting me from whatever darkness he’s battling within himself. And it tears at me because I know he doesn’t realize that keeping me out doesn’t protect me. It only keeps us apart.

“I want to help you through this. Let me take this from you… inmyway. Whatever you’re feeling—let me help you let it go.”

His fingers tighten around mine. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re holding on to so much inside.” My eyes search his. “But you don’t have to. Not with me. Let it outwithme. I can take it.”

A storm of doubt, confusion, and resistance crosses his face. “What? No––”

“Sometimes people reach a point where they need to scream. But not necessarily with their voice—maybe in other ways. Think of it like releasing the pressure before it explodes. You can do that with me. Let me be the one you let go with.”

I slide my hand higher, cradling the side of his face. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not tonight. Not with me.”

His eyes search mine, clouded with uncertainty and something else—something raw and unguarded. The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken emotions, and I hold my breath, willing him to see the truth in my words.

I see it—clarity blooming, breaking through the doubt. Hesitation fractures, revealing something raw and untamed beneath the surface. His gaze sharpens, and a storm gathers in his eyes as he leans into my touch, his voice rough and unsteady. “Are you sure you want that?”

I don’t flinch. Instead, I close the distance between us, my lips hovering above his, and whisper, “I’ve never been more sure. Give me all of it.”

His breath catches, his hand sliding up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing softly along my jaw as he searches my face, looking for doubt. He won’t find any. I meet his gaze head-on, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I know exactly what I’m asking for––I want all of you, Alex. The good, the broken, the beautiful… even the dark parts you’re afraid to show me.Especiallythose.”

The tension between us is electric, pulling taut like a string about to snap. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening as if he’s holding back. But I don’t let go, pressing my hand over his heart, feeling the thunder of it beneath my palm. “You don’t have to handle this alone. Let me in. All the way.”

Something in him shifts—a decision, a surrender—and the moment stretches, heavy with the magnitude of what’s about to happen. Then, slowly, he exhales, his hand sliding around to the back of my neck, drawing me closer. And when his lips finally crash into mine, it’s not gentle. It’s raw, hungry, and filled with everything he’s been holding back.

His hand tangles in my hair, his grip firm, and I know he’s letting go—giving me the parts of himself he’s been too afraid to share.

As the limo glides through the city, the world outside blurs. His touch is urgent, his movements possessive, but beneath it all, I feel his gratitude, his trust. And as I meet him with equal intensity, I know we’ve crossed into something deeper—something that binds us in a way neither of us can deny.

“Fuck me any way you want to,” I breathe against his ear. “I can take it. Let me be your release.”

A deep growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls me onto his lap, his lips meeting mine in a passionate and urgent kiss. I let out a moan, moving my hips in sync with the hardening bulge in his tuxedo pants.

“You want me to use you?” he rasps, nipping at my lower lip.

“Think of me as your…outlet.”

I want to be his release, his escape—the place where he can lose himself completely and find solace in my arms. I want to be the warmth that eases his pain, the balm that soothes the wounds life has left on him. I ache to trace gentle fingers over his scars, both the ones I can see and the ones I can’t. I yearn to murmur quiet words of comfort and acceptance against his skin until the heaviness he carries feels lighter.

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