Rebecca sat on the edge of the bed, her mind spinning from the events of the day. She could still hear Xavier's words echoing in her ears: "We'll do it anywhere and anytime I want." What exactly did he mean by that? Was it a threat or a promise? Her head throbbed from overthinking, the emotional toll of everything catching up with her. All she truly needed at the moment was peace—a few minutes to herself without the confusion, the drama, or the tension Xavier always seemed to stir up in her.
Tiredly, she moved across the room, selecting a simple pair of briefs and a loose crop top. She reached for a familiar scent—Xavier's powder—and without much thought, lightly dabbed some onto her skin. It reminded her of him, strong yet strangely comforting. She followed it with a few sprays of his body spray, one she had grown to like. Then she laid back on the bed, hoping sleep would rescue her from her restless thoughts.
A few moments later, Xavier stepped out of the bathroom, fresh from a quick shower. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead, and water still glistened on his chest and shoulders. The sunlight filtering through the curtains cast a faint glow on his skin. He paused when he noticed her lying there. Rebecca, in her relaxed state, had drifted off. She was sprawled across the bed, barely covered in a crop top and shorts. The soft fabric hugged her figure, revealing just enough to draw his eyes.
He walked closer, quietly, and stood beside the bed. There was something undeniably peaceful about seeing her like this—vulnerable, resting, untouched by the storm of emotions that often flared between them. His eyes traced the gentle slope of her shoulder, the curve of her side where her top had ridden up slightly. She looked... serene.
Unconsciously, Xavier reached out, his hand brushing lightly against her arm. Her skin was warm, soft. He let his hand drift slowly, stopping just below her ribcage. She stirred slightly in her sleep and murmured a soft "Hmm," before relaxing again.
He smiled faintly to himself. She was beautiful—no, more than that, she was real. And the scent on her skin? His scent. She had used his body spray and his powder. She was even wearing his shorts, he realized with a quiet chuckle. How daring of her.
Before he could dwell too much, a knock sounded at the door, pulling him from his reverie. He cursed under his breath. Reluctantly, he walked to open it, revealing Sheila, the laundry maid. She handed him a small bundle—clothes for Becca. He thanked her briefly, his tone sharp but polite, and shut the door.
Returning to the bed, his eyes found Rebecca again. He stood there, his thoughts racing. This woman, who he once saw as a tool for revenge, was slowly becoming something more complicated. She stirred emotions in him he wasn't prepared for. Pity. Confusion. Even desire—but not the raw, vengeful kind he once acted on. There was something gentler creeping in now, something disarming.
He sat beside her, watching her for a long moment. His gaze lingered on her face, then—before he could stop himself—he leaned down. His lips met hers, softly.
Rebecca's eyes fluttered open at the contact, her sleep-dazed mind catching up slowly to what was happening. Her lips, surprised at first, began to move against his. Xavier felt the shift—the way she cautiously responded. Her kiss was unsure, hesitant, like she was trying to understand what he was offering. It wasn't like their first time; there was no force, no aggression. This kiss was unexpected... tender, even.
She mirrored his pace clumsily, her inexperience showing. Her lips parted, her tongue trying to meet his, and for a fleeting second, they were in sync—until Rebecca froze.
With a sudden sense of awareness, she broke the kiss gently and turned away, flustered. Her cheeks burned as her heart pounded against her chest. She couldn't believe she had kissed him back. It felt so wrong... yet so natural.
"I—I'm sorry," she murmured, barely audible.
Xavier, still leaning beside her, tilted his head and said softly, "Come on, baby, don't be shy. You kissed me back... remember?"
His voice was low and teasing, but it carried an undercurrent of something else—surprise, maybe even admiration.
Rebecca sat up slowly, her expression conflicted. "Your family is here," she said, avoiding his gaze. "This is your family house, Xavier. I don't want anyone misunderstanding or judging me. Your father... I respect him, and I can't bear to be seen as someone with no shame."
She bit her lip, gathering the courage to continue. "If... if something like this ever happens again, please—not here. Maybe in your house, when it's just us. Not here."
Before he could respond, she stood up quickly and rushed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click.
Xavier blinked at the now-closed door, stunned. Her words echoed in his mind, not because of what she asked—but because she cared enough to say them. She was guarding her dignity. She was setting a boundary. And he hadn't expected that at all.