Chapter 152
Chapter 152
Athena’s POV
I stood in front of the mirror while Tristan was having his shower – looking at my reflection, my face looked bright and my cheeks were popped out.
I looked happy and I was. Of course I was, Tristan had been wonderful.
God.
And sex? It was fantastic, we made love like we were rabbits. There was no corner in my that he hasn’t pinned me to and made me moan his name.
He was intoxicating?
He had just won a very important race.
Of course, he’d won. He always did. We were an unstoppable force in the racing world, both of us dominating in our own right.
While he tore up the asphalt with his sleek machine, I commanded respect in my own lane, and together we were absolutely killing it. The other racers looked at us with a mixture of admiration and envy. We were the power couple everyone whispered about.
After his victory, we celebrated like we always did, with passionate kisses and melodious moans. The trophy meant nothing compared to the way he looked at me, like I was his greatest prize.
This night, like every night for the past week, Tristan came home with me. What had started as one quiet evening had turned into something neither of
us wanted to end.
He’d been sleeping at my place for days now, and honestly, I wasn’t ready to let him leave. His presence filled every corner of my apartment, from his leather jacket draped over my chair to his cologne lingering on my pillows.
‘ I should probably go back to my place soon,” he’d suggested one day, but his arms tightened around me even as the words left his lips.
‘Should you? ‘ I’d asked, tracing lazy circles on his chest.
That was three days ago, and he still hadn’t left. His clothes were mixed with mine in the laundry basket, his toothbrush sat next to mine in the bathroom, and I’d started buying his favorite coffee without even thinking about it.
We were playing house, and neither of us was brave enough to acknowledge how perfectly domestic it all felt.
The past few days blurred together in the most beautiful way. We’d drive to work together, at the office, he’d find excuses to stop by my desk bringing me coffee, asking about reports, or simply stealing a quick kiss when no one was looking.
Anyone with eyes could see we were completely gone for each other. The way he’d light up when I entered a room, or how I’d unconsciously lean into him during meetings we weren’t fooling anyone.
The nights were the best part though. We’d come home to my apartment, and cook dinner together, him chopping vegetables while I stirred sauces, our bodies moving around each other. It was starting to feel like our apartment.
We’d watch movies curled up on my couch, his fingers running through my hair as I rested my head on his chest. Sometimes we’d just talk for hours,
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Chapter 152
sharing stories and dreams we’d never told anyone else.
I never want to leave, he’d whispered last night as we lay tangled in my sheets, the moonlight casting silver patterns across our skin.
“Then don’t, I’d replied, and meant every word.
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But reality has a way of intruding on perfect moments.
Tristan came out, fresh from the shower and wearing nothing but sweatpants that hung low on his hips, when his phone rang. The sudden harsh sound
cut through our peaceful evening like. He glanced at the screen and his entire demeanor shifted.
“It’s Max,” he said, his voice tight with concern. Max is his Beta.
I watched his face change as he listened. The color drained from his cheeks, and his free hand clenched into a fist.
Is she… okay, I’ll be right there. He hung up and stood abruptly, running his hands through his still–damp hair.
“What’s wrong? ” I asked, sitting up in bed and pulling the sheet around myself.
*Seraphine tried to commit suicide,” he said, his voice hollow. “She’s in the hospital.” My blood ran cold.
Seraphine. Of course it was her.
As a member of Tristan’s pack, she had direct access to him. Even when she wasn’t physically present, that woman found ways to insert herself into our lives, to pull Tristan away from me. Being his pack member gave her a claim on his attention that I couldn’t even complain.
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Sara Lili
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.