Chapter 192 By his rules

Chapter 192 By his rules
I turn my head, watching him arrange our clothes into drawers and hangers with that signature precision.
Once the luggage is tucked away, he loosens his tie and slides it off. He walks over to my side of the bed, reaches into his pocket, and places some amber prescription bottles into the top bedside drawer, shutting it quietly.
Then he turns, towering over me as he unbuttons his dress shirt. "I'm going to freshen up. Join me?"
I let my gaze rake slowly down his chest, over the lean, sharp cut of his torso. "Maybe," I tease softly.
He arches a brow, repeating the word with quiet intrigue. "Maybe?"
He steps closer, his fingers making quick work of his shirt. He slides it off, drops it onto the covers, and reaches for his belt buckle. My eyes stay glued to his hands, watching the steady way he works.
I reach up, letting just the tips of my fingers brush lightly over the warm skin of his stomach. "You know, you could easily be a model. You're really not using your abilities to their full potential."
Bastian drops the belt. Instead of answering, he leans down, looming directly over me and bracing his hands on either side of my head.
"I wouldn't care for the attention," he murmurs, his blue eyes searching mine. "Among other things."
A small smile touches my lips, my eyes dropping to his mouth. "Is that why you think I do it? For the attention?"
His lips curve into a slow smirk. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" I echo inquisitively, sliding my hands up his arms, over his broad shoulders, until my fingers lock securely behind his neck.
"You definitely seemed to enjoy Sylvie's attention in the car," he says, his voice laced with a subtle, dark edge.
I chuckle softly, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling his weight down flush against me. "I like her, it feels like we could actually be friends."
"She has a massive crush on you," he replies dryly, his tone dripping with obvious certainty. "It's almost painful how clear she makes it."
I grin up at him. "Well... I happen to have a crush on you."
Bastian hitches the hem of my t-shirt up, his warm palms sliding against the bare skin of my sides. "Just a crush?"
My throat goes dry, a sudden, unexpected wave of nervousness fluttering in my chest. No. It’s definitely not just a crush. The truth is so obvious it’s terrifying, but standing on the edge of acknowledging it makes my heart hammer against my ribs. What I feel for him is huge, heavy, and completely overwhelming. A quiet, dangerous tide that threatens to pull me under entirely.
"A massive one," I manage to say, keeping my voice light despite the heat in my chest. "Honestly, it's getting a little concerning."
Bastian’s expression softens, a genuinely beautiful smile breaking across his face. He leans down, pressing a warm, lingering kiss to my lips.
"If you keep looking at me like that, Kaden," he whispers against my mouth, "I'm not going to get a single thing on my schedule done while we're here."
My fingers trace down the column of his throat, stopping at a fresh, blooming bruise near his collarbone. I left that. Along with a few faint scratches on his chest.
Then my touch strays lower, brushing against another set of marks...faint and definitely not from me. I know because I saw them before we ever touched. They're new.
I stare at the skin under my hand, my mind instantly picturing Bastian standing under a scalding shower head, scrubbing himself raw in an attempt to wash away whatever lingering ghosts haunt him. Looking at him right now...so composed, so immaculate, so effortlessly in control....no one would ever guess the kind of internal war he fights.
I’ve wondered dozens of times if I should just bring it up. Lay it all out on the table because keeping quiet feels dishonest. There’s this massive, silent elephant in the room every time he refuses to sleep next to me, every time he retreats into that ironclad distance, and I’m expected to just ignore it. To pretend it doesn’t exist.
But I know how fast he shuts down the moment anyone gets too close to the wreckage.
That’s what terrifies me about what I’m feeling. I can't shake the creeping, suffocating fear that Bastian’s aversion to his past, his desperate need to pretend he’s untouchable, is stronger than anything between us.
That if he ever feels backed into a corner, if he ever feels trapped by me pushing too hard, he would genuinely prefer setting me aside to protect his walls. And I don't want that. I can't handle being tossed away by him.
His gaze narrows slightly, his eyes hyper-perceptive as he catches the sudden shift in my breathing. "What's wrong?"
I shake my head, hating this constant, exhausting dilemma. Hating that I have to play by his rules and pretend he’s perfectly fine just to keep the peace.
"I'm just..." I start, automatically preparing to brush it off with a quick joke, to tell him I'm fine.
I stop myself. I swallow the easy lie down.
"I just wanted to let you know that you can talk to me," I say quietly, my fingers resting over his heartbeat. "About anything. Anything at all."
Bastian studies me in silence. He blinks slowly, and even though I haven't named a single thing, I can literally watch the steel defenses rising behind his eyes, walling him off in real time.
He nods once, his tone dropping back into that smooth, controlled register. "I know."
He shifts, starting to pull back. "We should freshen up. Meet Sylvie and George downstairs for lunch."
"Yeah," I murmur. "Okay."
He lets me sit up, his hands sliding down to help me tug my t-shirt the rest of the way over my head.
As his back turns toward the bathroom, my mind immediately drifts to George. George knows him better than anyone. If there’s anyone on this planet who knows how to navigate the minefield inside Bastian’s head without triggering an explosion, it’s him.
I need to take advantage of this trip. I need to find a moment alone with George and get some actual direction. Because as incredible as this feels right now, as perfect as we seem on the surface, I know down to my bones that this isn't healthy. And if I don't figure out how to handle the dark stuff beneath the surface, it’s eventually going to tear us apart.