Chapter 112 Lingering Desires

Chapter 112 Lingering Desires
ALEX HART’S POV

I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating beside the thin mattress.

The small apartment was still dark, and the only light that was on was coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside the window.

I reached out, tapping the floor as I looked for my phone. Then, I picked it up and squinted at the screen.

It was an email from the bank with the subject “URGENT NOTICE- HART & ASSOCIATE OUTSTANDING DEBT.”

My heart thumped but I opened it anyway.

The content of the message was short and professional, and the words felt heavy on my chest.

“Dear Mr Hart,

We regret to inform you that the personal guarantee you provided for the company’s line of credit remains outstanding. The current balance is $187,480. Due to recent developments with Harts & Associates, we require immediate settlement or a concrete repayment plan within fourteen days. Failure to comply may result in legal actions including asset seizure.

Please get in touch with our collections department at your earliest convenience.”

I read the email twice, then I let the phone drop onto the mattress.

$187,480.

That was the last major debt I still carried personally from the company’s collapse. The one I had been hoping would somehow disappear or be sucked up by new investors, but it hadn’t.

I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling as I thought about the way forward.

Then I remembered the watch.

The Rolex my mother had given me on my thirtieth birthday. It was still in its case in one of the boxes I hadn’t fully unpacked.

And my car.

Those were the only things of real value I had left.

I sat up slowly, rubbed my face with both hands, and made a decision that it was time to let them go.

I got up from bed, took a quick bath, slipped into a polo and trousers, then went to the tiny kitchen to make coffee before heading out.

My first stop was the watch buyer downtown.

When I got to the shop, I met a middle-aged man and approached him.

“I want to sell this,” I said, dropping the Rolex case on the glass table.

He examined it carefully, then made an offer.

The price was fair though not the full value but it was enough to cover a significant portion of the debt.

I accepted without hesitation.

The man wired the money into my account and I left his shop.

Then I proceeded to my next destination.

I drove my sleek and expensive black sedan to a dealership a few miles from the watch shop. The salesman looked surprised when I told him I wanted to trade it for something much cheaper.

“Are you sure, sir?” he asked.

“Yes. I need something simple and reliable,” I replied.

An hour later, after signing the paperwork, I drove away in an old Camry.

When I got back home, I sank onto the bed and sighed, burying my head in my palms. Then I opened my bank app, calculated the money, and added it to what I already had. It was enough to settle most of the bank debt. I would pay the remaining with the small income from the freelance community project.

I transferred the funds to the bank immediately and I sent a short email to them, confirming the payment.

Then I lay back on the mattress, staring at the ceiling.

“This isn’t life, but I know I will sail through,” I told myself.

JOAN COLE’S POV

The shower water was hot, almost too hot that the steam coming from it fogged the mirror completely.

I stood under the spray with my eyes closed as I let the heat soak into my muscles after a long day at work. My hands started moving slowly down my body and before I could realize it, my fingers slid between my legs, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves already slick from the water and my own growing arousal.

I started slowly and teasingly.

Then I let my mind wander where it wanted.

To Alex, sometimes substituting with Dave.

That was wild.

My fingers moved fast.

This time, I leaned against the cool tile, letting my legs spread under the spray. I used one of my hands to brace myself against the wall and used the other one to work between my thighs. 

I slipped two fingers inside myself, curling and stroking the perfect spot while my thumb continued rubbing my clit.

The pleasure heightened.

“You feel so fucking good, Joan.”

I imagined Alex saying that into my ears, his voice low and hungry.

My hips rocked against my hand, chasing the building wave. The water pounded against my skin, matching the rhythm of my fingers.

My breathing grew jagged, and soft moans echoed off the tiles.

I pictured Alex behind me, his chest pressed to my back with one of his hands between my thoughts while the other grabbed my throat just tight to make me feel claimed. His cock sliding deep and relentlessly.

The orgasm hit me suddenly.

My body tensed and my back arched, tearing a broken cry from my throat as pleasure crashed through me. My fingers kept moving, drawing it out, until my legs shook and I had to brace both hands against the wall to stay balanced.

I came hard, longer, and more intensely than I had allowed myself in weeks.

When it finally faded, I stood there panting, water streaming down my body, and my heart still racing.

I was satisfied but no matter how vivid my imagination was, it wasn’t the same as being handled by him.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. I wiped the fog from the mirror and stared at my reflection.

I saw a woman with flushed cheeks, damp hair, and whose eyes were dark with lingering desires.



Lena noticed my distraction the moment I walked into the living room later that evening.

“You okay?” she asked, handing me a glass of wine.

I took the glass and sank into the couch beside her.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“I won’t buy that, Joan. You don’t look fine to me.”

Then I sighed.

“Honestly, I’m not… I miss real passion, Lena. The kind I had with Alex.”

Lena was quiet for a moment, studying me.

“Then maybe you should consider reaching out to him,” she said gently.

“Not to get back together. Just… to see where he is. You’ve both been through hell. Maybe talking will help you both heal.”

“I’m not sure,” I whispered as I stared into my wine glass.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

I knew I said that, but the seed had already been planted.



Later that night, I lay in bed, scrolling through my phone when I came across Alex's name on an architecture blog.

The headline was simple.

“Alex Hart Begins Again: From Company’s Collapse to Small Community Projects.”

The article was just a few paragraphs about how he had lost control of Hart & Associates and how he was now taking on modest community projects starting small with a small community center with little to no profit. There was a photo of him standing outside the empty lot, looking tired as he held a set of rolled-up plans.

I stared at the image for a long time.

He looked different but I couldn’t quite place it.

I closed the article and set my phone on the nightstand, my heart beating a little faster than before.

I wondered what would happen if I reached out.

“Would the spark reignite?”

Nah… that’s out of the question.

I told myself and turned off the light.

As I closed my eyes, the image of Alex standing on that empty lot still lingered behind my eyes.