Chapter 5 Passion

"Step inside."

Greyson's voice, rich and commanding, broke the stillness, sending an unexpected thrill through Melanie.

Her chest thudded with each heartbeat, the sound reverberating in her ears.

Mustering her courage, she filled her lungs and eased the door open.

A gentle gust swirled into the room, tugging at the delicate curtains that framed the tall windows. Greyson remained by the glass, his back turned, posture elegant, the cut of his dark trousers emphasizing his poised silhouette.

When she crossed the threshold, he slowly glanced over his shoulder.

Soft moonbeams tangled with warm lamplight, sculpting his features with cool, calm beauty.

His shirt hung loosely on his robust frame, just like an unspoken invitation.

"Shut the door." The words rumbled from him, low and absolute, lingering in the air.

Energy sparked between them, each second stretching with anticipation.

With her hand still wrapped around the knob, Melanie paused, voice quiet and wary. "Did you call me here for something, Mr. Blake?"

Greyson stared at her for a few seconds, his lips curling into a teasing smile. A single word slipped from between his lips. "Afraid?"

Of course, she was afraid!

Despite the tension, Melanie fought to steady herself.

"Thank you for your help today, Mr. Blake. There was no need to summon me like this. I know my place and I won't make trouble. From here on out, let's keep our distance. We owe each other nothing."

"Nothing, you say?" Greyson's laugh was low, his hand slipping into his pocket as he closed the space between them.

She suddenly felt like an insect tangled in silk, every move more impossible than the last.

With a sudden movement, he reached behind her and slammed the door, the sound echoing as he boxed her in.

"You think you can just walk away from me after everything? Who put that idea in your head?"

The words were gentle, but a cold shiver slid down Melanie's spine.

"No... I'm not trying to walk away," she whispered, voice raw, her eyes skittering away from the look he gave her. "While I'm here, I know I'll need your shelter. I'm only trying to be realistic."

He'd thrown her a lifeline, and she'd traded something irreplaceable in return.

That was the bargain - nothing more, nothing less.

Turning her head, she tried to hide her face, but his fingers coaxed her back, thumb brushing over her lips, pressing lightly, coaxing them open.

Every touch felt like a dare - a mix of invitation and dominance, impossible to resist or misunderstand.

A wave of panic swept over Melanie.

Last time, desperation had driven her - she had needed to survive.

But this - what was happening now?

"Mr. Blake, this isn't how things should be."

Even as the words left her mouth, his thumb slipped past her lips, brushing against her tongue. She flinched in alarm, but the door pressed against her back offered no escape. Humiliation flushed her face, hot and fierce.

His breath grew heavier, and the hunger in his gaze felt overwhelming - like a storm threatening to swallow her whole.

"What did I say before you walked into this room?"

His finger held her captive, making speech impossible, her mouth glossed with evidence of his touch.

His question sent a jolt through her, her eyes widening in realization.

She remembered - she'd once promised anything, so long as he saved her.

Only then did he free her lips, dragging his finger away and leaving a glistening path he traced across her cheek.

He watched her gasp, barely catching her breath, then pressed even closer.

"Melanie, my generosity doesn't come without a price."

If anything, tonight's intensity far surpassed what had happened earlier.

With no rush, he seemed determined to make this encounter last.

Not until the clock neared four in the morning did he finally release her.

Only a handful of hours remained before dawn, and Melanie's restless sleep brought little relief - she woke drained and sore.

Sunlight had already spread across the room when she finally opened her eyes.

Panic jolted through her as she realized that she was still in Greyson's bed, and she shot upright, nerves on edge.

Every muscle protested, leaving her groaning as she wrapped an arm around her aching waist.

After a quick scan assured her that he was gone, she muttered, "Bastard," under her breath.

No sooner had the word slipped out than the door creaked open, sending her heart racing.

To Melanie's surprise, it wasn't Greyson who entered but a maid. She stepped quietly inside, gaze fixed on the floor, arms laden with neatly folded clothes. With a respectful bow, she greeted Melanie. "Mr. Blake asked me to bring these for you."

Along with the clothing, she set down a small jar of ointment.

"This was specially prepared by Mr. Blake," she added.

Another silent bow, and the maid left, closing the door behind her.

Left alone, Melanie tried to steady her thoughts. He had picked out clothing for her?

His motives remained a mystery, impossible to decipher.

Last night's dress had been reduced to rags, so she was left with no option but to slip into the fresh outfit Greyson had set out.

Lifting the neatly folded clothes, her gaze landed on the jar of ointment, clearly meant to ease any bruising.

Heat rushed to her cheeks, staining them scarlet.

His passion the night before had been overwhelming, far more intense and unrestrained than the first time.

How could a man known for his self-control and icy exterior become so wild behind closed doors?

Confused and unsettled, Melanie scooped up the clothes and limped to the bathroom. The sting in her body forced her to double back for the ointment.

Clean and dressed at last, she gathered her things and reached for her phone. As she unlocked it, a new shock jolted through her.