Chapter 65 Blue Balls

Chapter 65 Blue Balls
~LIAM.
Pain. Fierce, pulsing, vindictive pain.
It radiated through me like a curse as I doubled over, slipping from the couch and crashing onto my knees, hands instinctively guarding what was left of my dignity. Speechless, I stayed down: breath knocked out of me, furious, stunned, and aching in places a man should never ache.
"This is the last time you ever lay a hand on me," she said calmly, still seated like nothing had happened. "Next time, I won't be so nice."
Air wouldn't come. Thoughts scattered. But her voice pushed through the fog, clear and unshaken.
"I think it's time for you to leave now, neighbor."
That smile-smug, cold, satisfied-turned the word into a blade.
Not a word left my mouth. What the hell could I possibly say?
Still hunched, I pushed myself to my feet and exited the house. Every step sent a fresh wave of agony through me, but I didn't stop until I crossed the street and nearly collided with the moving truck parked outside the house I'd bought-for her. For us.
The driver hopped out: skinny kid, hoodie hanging off him, bowl-cut like it was still 2005. "Boss! Finally. I thought I was gonna have to sleep out here. It's been hours, man."
I grunted.
"You good?" he asked, then his eyes dropped to my hands, still cupped protectively.
He winced. "Oof. Damn. Blue balls?"
I shot him a look. He laughed nervously. "My bad. Just... I had a girl in high school-Alyssa K-she once sat on my-"
The glare I gave him shut him up instantly.
"Right," he said, backing away. "Silence. Got it."
Limping up the porch, I pulled the keys from my pocket, jammed one into the lock, and opened the door.
Not before saying, "Unload it all."
He obeyed without a word.
The second I got inside, I dropped onto the nearest couch-still wrapped in stuff plastic-and let out a deep, guttural groan. I didn't move for a long time. Couldn't.
Eventually, he finished and left. I barely noticed.
The house still looked like Mrs. Winslow's. Same dusty curtains, same faded rugs, same goddamn porcelain dolls leering at me from the shelves. I hadn't touched a thing. Not yet.
Sitting felt impossible. I shot to my feet and started pacing.
Running everything through my head again.
Green eyes said she'd moved on. With Lucas?
That grinning little idiot?
No. I didn't believe it. I couldn't.
Not after the way her body arched into mine at The Velvet Fang. Not after the way her lips parted when I touched her, right before she swung at me.
She hadn't let go. She was angry. Hurt. And she had every right to be.
What I did back at the resort... I'd carry that shame for the rest of my life. But I'd carry it while fighting like hell to make it right.
Lucas wasn't the answer. He was the distraction. The decoy.
That smug little look he threw me before walking out?
It made my fists twitch.
She'd never choose him over me. She needed someone who could stand ground, take hits, protect her. She needed a man, not a boy.
She needed me.
And if she was going to that barbecue with him tomorrow, I needed to know where she'd be. What if he tried something? What if she got hurt?
I wasn't about to let that happen.
Sinking back into the couch, I breathed through the dull ache that still throbbed low in my body. My hand curled into a fist against my thigh.
I shouldn't.
If she knew, she'd hate me even more than she already does.
But I couldn't risk it.
Not with that grinning bastard showing up at her door like he had a claim.
It was just after 2 AM when I made my decision.
I slipped out, crossed the street, and crept onto her porch. The house was dark. Still.
Her security was still a joke. No alarm, no reinforced locks, no cameras. Still too damn trusting.
The second I stepped inside, the scent of jasmine hit me-soft and familiar, like a memory I didn't deserve. She must've lit a candle before bed.
Her world smelled like peace. Like comfort. Mine never had.
Through the stillness of the house, past the same couch we'd shared hours ago, I slipped into her room.
She was asleep. Curled into herself, wrapped in sheets. Her features relaxed. Beautiful. Untouchable.
But now wasn't the time.
There'd be a time for that. One day.
When she finally forgave me.
My eyes landed on her phone resting on the nightstand. I picked it up. Locked, of course. Six-digit code.
Smart girl.
Just not smart enough to stop a man who's spent his life getting past walls like this.
I cracked it in seconds-because locks, codes, barriers? They were never made to keep someone like me out.
I opened her location settings. Shared it with my own phone. No sound, no alert. Just a few taps and a confirmation.
Now I'd always know where she was.
For her safety.
She stirred beneath the covers, and my pulse halted. I froze, breath trapped in my lungs, the weight of her phone still hot in my hand.
But after a second, she only sighed-a soft, sleepy sound-and turned over, curling deeper into the sheets.
Standing there for a moment longer, I watched her chest rise and fall, steady, peaceful. Then I gently placed the phone back on the nightstand, careful not to make a sound.
Step by slow step, I backed out of the room. Out of the hallway. Out of her space. Into the night.
Crossed the street.
Entered my house.
A soft buzz lit up my palm, confirmation. The phones were linked.
And for the first time since moving in, I let out a full breath.
Now I'll always know where you are, green eyes.
Not to chase. Not to control.
To protect.
Whether you want me to or not.