Page 28 of Chaos
"It's a lot to take in," I admit.
Mama Pat smiles knowingly. "You'll get used to it. This is home now."
By the time Mama Pat leaves me to settle in Chaos’s room with my notes, the morning sun filters through the high windows, casting warm patches on the worn armchair. I try to focus on pharmacology—drug interactions, dosages—but my mind keeps drifting back to Chaos. The way he looked at me during breakfast, like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing. The black credit card he slid across the table.
It’s hard to process how fast everything in my life is changing. It’s all for the better, which makes the whole situation really hard to trust. Is it all just a house of cards?
Hours blur by. I review flashcards, jotting notes in my notebook, but every small sound has me glancing up, hoping it's him. Finally, I hear footsteps echo down the hall—heavy, purposeful—and there he is, filling the doorway like he owns the space. Which, I guess, he does.
His eyes find mine immediately, and a slow smile curls his lips. He pushes off the frame, sauntering over with that loose-hipped stride that makes my pulse jump. "Miss me, sweetheart?"
I set my pen down, my cheeks heating. "Maybe."
He chuckles, deep and rough, dropping into the armchair across from me. His knee brushes mine as he leans forward, elbows on his thighs, forearms corded with muscle. Tattoos snake up his arms—intricate designs of skulls and wings, faded from years under the sun. "Church ran long. Club shit."
I nod. His hand reaches out, capturing mine, his thumb stroking the back in lazy circles. The touch sends sparks up my arm, and I shift in my seat, suddenly aware of how close we are, how the air between us thickens.
"You eat lunch?" he asks, his gaze dropping to my lips.
"Snacked on some fruit in the kitchen." I squeeze his fingers lightly. "What about you?"
"Grabbed a burger." He stands, pulling me up with him effortlessly. His arm snakes around my waist, tucking me against his side as we head out. “I wanna show you something."
We weave through the compound, past the common area where a few brothers lounge, watching a game on TV. They nod at us, eyes lingering a second longer on me than before, but no one says a word. Chaos's grip tightens possessively like he's daring them to look too long.
Outside, the afternoon air is crisp, carrying the scent of fall leaves and motor oil. He leads me to the edge of the property, where a gravel path winds toward a cluster of trees. A woodenbench sits there, overlooking a small pond—man-made, I think, with koi fish flashing orange under the surface. It's peaceful, a hidden pocket in this fortress of fences and guards.
"Sit," he says, guiding me down. He settles beside me, his thigh pressing against mine, solid and warm. The bench creaks under his weight.
I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. "This is nice. Didn't expect quiet like this here."
He drapes an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer. His fingers toy with the ends of my hair. "Built it years ago. Needed a place to think without the noise."
We sit in comfortable silence, watching the fish dart. His heartbeat thuds steadily under my ear, and I trace idle patterns on his chest through his shirt.
But then his hand slides lower, cupping my jaw, turning my face up to his. His eyes are stormy, hungry. "Been thinking about you all morning," he confesses, voice gravelly. "About last night. How you tasted. How you came for me."
Heat floods my face, but I don't look away. My body remembers—his mouth on me, fingers stretching, the way pleasure built until I shattered. "Jace..."
He kisses me then, slow at first, lips brushing mine like a tease. But it ignites fast, his tongue delving deep. I whimper into his mouth, my hands clutching his shirt, pulling him closer. He groans, the sound vibrating through me, and shifts, hauling me onto his lap in one smooth move.
I straddle him, knees digging into the bench on either side of his hips. The hard ridge of his cock presses against me through our clothes, thick and insistent, and I rock against it instinctively, chasing the friction. He breaks the kiss, trailing his mouth down my neck, sucking at the sensitive skin there.
"Fuck, baby," he growls against my throat. "You feel that? That's what you do to me. I’m hard as a rock just from kissing you."
His hands roam under my shirt, palms rough on my bare skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I arch into his touch, nipples tightening against my bra. "Jace...here?"
"No one's coming this way." He nips my earlobe, breath hot. "But if you keep grinding on my cock like that, I'm gonna fuck you right here on this bench."
The words send a thrill through me, dirty and thrilling. I've never done more than what we did last night, but with him, I want it all. Want to give him everything.
“Yes,” I say, my hips circling again, deliberate now. He curses low, one hand sliding down to grip my ass, guiding me harder against him.
"Rowan," he rasps, voice strained. "You sure? This is your first time. I want it to be perfect for you."
I cup his face, forcing him to meet my eyes. His pupils are wide, his jaw clenched with restraint. “I’m sure. I want it here with you. Now."
That breaks him. He stands, lifting me with him like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist.
