Page 107 of When the Storm Breaks
My chest warms, impossibly full.
Inside, the shower is on within seconds, steam already fogging the mirror. His hands go straight to me—tugging the sweatshirt and sweatpants off first, then the briefs, then lifting the long-sleeve shirt over my head.
And just like that, I’m bare again.
It hasn’t been long since he undressed me like this, but it feels different.
The last time was tense. Electric. Edging toward something neither of us had the words for yet.
This isn’t that. This is slower. Softer.
But no less intense.
Haiyden’s gaze drags over me, and I feel it everywhere. The way his eyes move. The way they darken. The way heat flares in them, consuming me. It mirrors the warmth that’s been burning low and steady in me all morning. A hum under my skin. A quiet ache that never really left.
He steps closer, taking my face in both hands, his palms warmagainst my chilled skin. And he kisses me—slow, deep.
I lean into it.
I lose myself in him. In his touch. In the way his mouth moves against mine like he’s trying to tell me something without saying it out loud.
I lose myself in this day. This moment.
Because none of this feels real.
This can’t be a real man.
This can’t be my real life.
His tongue traces gently against mine, drawing a small hum from deep inside me, before he pulls back—just enough to rest his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling between us in slow, warm bursts.
“I have a lot of fun with you, Calla James,” he says softly.
I smile—genuine at first, full of something whole and strange and maybe a little scared.
But then it shifts. Twists.
Because it makes me want him even more.
The smile turns coy. I tilt my head just enough to meet his gaze through my lashes, voice syrupy with fake innocence. “You could have a lot of fun with me in the shower, too,” I say, adding a small wink for good measure.
He pauses. Just for a second. But it’s enough. His eyes flash—like he’s seriously considering it. Like he’s about to drag me in with him and undo both of us all over again.
But a sudden cold shiver tears through me, cutting clean across the heat I’d been clinging to.
And he sees it.
“Nope. Get in,” he says, yanking the shower curtain to the sidelike it’s nothing. “I need to get you a towel and some clothes and figure out what we can eat. I think tonight’s five-star menu options are frozen pizza, mac and cheese, or some microwave popcorn and wine?”
I laugh, stepping toward him, leaning in to kiss him again. “Anything,” I whisper against his mouth.
I press in a little more, my already-sensitive nipples brush against the fabric of his shirt. The contact sends a jolt through me, and I react before I can stop it. A soft, involuntary sound escapes my throat.
He catches it. Lets out a laugh against my mouth.
He kisses me again, quick and sweet and entirely unfair, before pulling back.
“Focus, baby.”
