Chapter 15: Play with the Phantom: Chapter 13

Ari

The sharp knock on my door yanks me from sleep like a gunshot. My body jerks, and for a disorienting second, I don’t know where I am—if I’m still dreaming, if last night even happened, if the heat still simmering between my legs is real or just the lingering effect of a hallucination.But then⁠—“Ari?” Asher’s voice. Firm, but careful.I scramble upright, fumbling with the sheets still tangled around my legs. My entire body is thrumming, nerves on fire, skin too tight, a part of me still expecting the ghost of his touch.“Ari?” Another knock.I walk to the door and pull it open. My head is still spinning—it must be early. When I look up at Asher, he’s looking down at me with a guilty expression.“Hello,” he says carefully, his eyes cataloging me slowly. A rush of heat spears through me.“Good morning,” I reply, crossing my arms and trying not to smile.He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about last night. I passed out early and—” He exhales, almost sheepish. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?”That sure as hell wakes me up.A pulse of realization crashes over me so fast I nearly choke on it. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hands. The way he touched me like he’d done it a thousand times in his head.“Don’t say his name while you’re riding my face.”“Call me the Phantom.”Was it Maddox?No way. It was the Ambien. It had to be. And it wouldn’t be the first Ambien sex dream I’d ever had, so that’s the most logical explanation, right?A sick twist in my stomach coils tight, nausea and panic colliding in my throat. My hands shake as I squeeze my biceps, and I school my face into something I hope resembles disappointment that he wasn’t the one in here last night.Oh god. I need to leave this room. I need air.“Um, it’s okay. I’m going to shower, and then I’ll meet you downstairs?” I ask, tilting my head and trying to act nonplussed.I have no idea if I’m failing or succeeding, but when Asher nods once and kisses me on the forehead before walking away, all I feel is relief.I wait several seconds before walking back into my room, closing the door, and grabbing one of the dresses that bought me yesterday. After replacing my sleep shirt with the dress as quickly as I can manage, I run my hands through my hair.Maddox I need to find Maddox and make sure I’m not losing my mind. That it wasn’t . That it was just a dream, just a trick of my stupid subconscious. It to be.himhasYanking the door open so fast it nearly slams against the wall, I storm out into the hallway.And right into a wall of solid muscle.Maddox.His grip is on me before I can react—one strong hand seizing my wrist, the other landing firm against my hip, holding me in place like he was expecting me to come looking for him.I gasp, barely having time to register the dark heat in his gaze before he’s moving.He pulls me down the hall so fast I stumble, my breath stuttering when he kicks open his bedroom door, drags me inside, and presses me flush against it the second it clicks shut.The air thickens.Every single cell in my body goes tight, my muscles locking up as the reality of his closeness—his size, his heat, his scent—crashes into me.That familiar scent of leather, smoke, and something darker.Something familiar.Oh god. It him.was He’s not holding me gently. No, this grip is possessive. Deliberate. Like last night gave him permission he has no intention of returning.I slap my palms against his chest, pushing against the wall of muscle, but it’s pointless. He doesn’t move an inch. Just tilts his head, eyes flicking down my body, his gaze so heavy it might as well be a physical touch.“Something wrong, little warrior?” His voice is low, taunting, dark with amusement.I glare up at him, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. “You—you were in my room last night.”A slow, deliberate smirk.“And?”“And?” My pulse jumps violently. “You—you—” I shake my head, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt. “That was—God, I thought you were Asher!”He hums, tilting his head. Unbothered. “I know.”My stomach plummets.No remorse. No hesitation. Just fact.“You—” I swallow, my voice shaking. “You let me think⁠—”His fingers brush my hip bone, barely there but still possessive as hell. “I didn’t let you do anything, Ari.”I can’t breathe. I can’t think.Because this isn’t fear.It should be.But it’s not.“You didn’t stop me,” I whisper, hating how breathless I sound. How raw.His fingers tighten, pulling me flush against him, chest to chest, hip to hip, and I let out a soft, strangled sound.“No.” His voice drops lower. “I didn’t.”His mouth is too close, his body too solid, too warm, too .MaddoxEverything Asher isn’t.Everything Asher never will be.A thrill runs through me—a dangerous shiver of realization. Because the worst part? I don’t regret it. Not the way he touched me. Not the way I responded. Not even the way I want more, to feel the way he went rigid underneath me and let out that guttural moan⁠—I squeeze my eyes shut briefly, as if that will get rid of the mental image swimming around in my mind. He’d touched me the way I’ve been craving for so long. The way I’ve been asking Asher to for years. Except with Maddox, I didn’t have to ask or direct him.He just knew.He must see my thoughts written all over my face because his smirk deepens, and his fingers skim higher. “You want me to say it, don’t you?”My stomach flips. “Say what?”His thumb brushes the underside of my breast, teasing. Not touching, but close enough that my breath catches. “All the things you like. All the things he never bothered to learn.”I go still.He chuckles, his breath warm against my temple as he leans in. “Poor thing. You must be so wound up after two years of missionary and silence.”Heat floods my cheeks, my throat aching. Because he’s right.fuck him, “Shut up,” I snap, jerking my head back, desperate for space, for clarity, for something that isn’t the dizzying effect of him.Maddox just grins. “Tell me I’m wrong.”I press my lips together. Because I can’t. And he knows that too. The drag of his gaze is unbearable, suffocating in its intensity. Like he’s reading me, seeing everything I try to hide.So I say the only thing I can. “I’m not yours.”His eyes bore into mine, but he stays silent. And then a slow, wicked smirk breaks out on his beautiful face.“Yeah?” He leans in closer, his voice barely a whisper. “Then tell me why you’re wearing the clothes I picked out and bought for you… why you smell like me…” His thumb drags over my hip, where last night’s bruises are starting to bloom. “…and why I can feel you shaking beneath my touch, like you can’t fucking wait for me to do it again?”I let out a sharp, uneven breath, but I have no answer.Because he’s right. .Again“I should call the cops and report you,” I hiss, heart hammering in my chest.It was Maddox.It was Maddox.Oh God, I sat on my boyfriend’s twin brother’s face while he ate me out.“Probably.”My brows knit together, and somehow, his casual indifference only makes me angrier. “You think this is funny? That you can just—just sneak into my room like some kind of deranged stalker and—” I choke on my words, my pulse fluttering against my throat. “Oh my god. It was you. The letters… Blythe seeing a guy that looked like Asher…”I look at Maddox like I’m seeing him for the first time.“Just to warn you, I have a black belt and I’ll kick your fucking ass if you try and hurt me⁠—”“Hurt you?” His voice dips lower, edged with something rough, something almost… offended.He leans closer, his body pressing into mine, solid, unyielding, the heat of him sinking into my skin like a brand. My pulse stutters, betraying me.Then, his lips brush my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Angel, the only way I’d ever hurt you is if you begged me for it. If you got on your knees, looked up at me with those pretty, desperate eyes, and asked me nicely.”A sharp, traitorous shiver dances across my skin.“And even then?” His fingers skim my jaw, tilting my chin up until my breath is trapped between us. “I’d make sure you loved every second of it.”I can’t breathe. I can’t… think. This is all so wrong, but why does it feel so… inevitable?Like I was always meant to end up here, trapped between him and the door, drowning in the storm of his presence, his words curling around me like smoke.“I can feel it, you know,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the barest line down my throat, not applying pressure—just reminding me that he could. That I’d let him. “The way your pulse is racing. The way your breath shudders every time I get close.”I swallow hard, my throat working against his touch. “You’re imagining things.”Maddox chuckles, low and knowing. “Mmm.” His lips brush my temple. “If that’s true, Ari, then why are you still here? Why haven’t you screamed—or run?”Because I don’t want to.The realization crashes over me like a wave, and , I think he sees it, too.fuck“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” I ask, my voice a frayed whisper. “I’m not a cheater. That’s not who I am.”That smirk is back, sharp and unrepentant, cutting through me like a blade. And now, in the unforgiving daylight, I see it.The difference.Asher is polished, all smooth edges and effortless charm, a man who’s never had to fight for anything in his life. His face is untouched by hardship, unmarked by anything more than the mild inconvenience of a delayed dinner reservation or a difficult client. But Maddox…Maddox is carved from something rougher, honed into something sharper. A man forced to become a predator to survive.It’s in the way he moves—controlled, deliberate, always calculating. It’s in the way his body holds tension, coiled like he’s always waiting for the next fight. Even his features, so identical to Asher’s in theory, have been molded into something else entirely. The same sharp cheekbones, the same strong jaw, but harder. . His blue eyes don’t just see, they assess, stripping me bare with a single look. His dark blond hair, just a little too long, gives him a casual recklessness Asher would never allow himself.HarsherAnd I feel it now, too—the way his presence alone shifts the air, turning it heavier, thicker. More dangerous.“Is that so?” His voice is smooth, a razor wrapped in silk. “Because from where I was standing—” His hand trails lazily down my hip, thumb brushing against the hem of the dress picked out for me. “—you weren’t just a willing participant. You were desperate for it.”he I suck in a sharp breath, my body betraying me as heat flares between my thighs. “I didn’t know it was ,” I snap, ignoring the way my pulse jumps at his touch.youHis smirk deepens, predatory. “Maybe not.” His fingers press lightly against my waist, right where he held me against his face last night, fingertips over the two bruises I’m sure will bloom by later today. “But tell me, Ari—if you really believed it was Asher, then why did it finally feel right?”“I should put you back in a cage, where you belong,” I grit out, trying to pull out of his grasp.Maddox hums, tilting his head, his blue eyes glinting with something dark. “You won’t.”I let out a breathless, humorless laugh. “You really think I won’t? Watch. Me.”His lips twitch, amusement flickering over his face like this is some kind of game, like I’m an irritable little fly that amuses him. Like I’m not threatening to send him back to prison for life.“You won’t. Because you liked it.”I go rigid. “Fuck you.”“You already did.” His voice is low, smug. His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Well… my mouth, at least.”Heat floods my face, a mix of fury and something far more dangerous. I shove at his chest, and this time, he lets me go, taking a step back and gesturing to the door, as if to say, Go on and run, but I’m going to catch you eventually.“And next time? You’ll be fully awake for it.”His response sends shivers down my spine, and arousal drips down the inside of my thighs. I gulp air as I open his door and storm back to my room, closing the door and locking it before I sit down on my bed and press my thighs together, as if that will do anything to erase the way my body still thrums, still aches for something it shouldn’t.My pulse is a frantic, stuttering thing, hammering against my ribs. I press my palms to my face, trying to will away the heat, the dizzying aftershocks of what just happened.It was Maddox. It was .MaddoxAnd the worst part?I can still feel him—his breath against my skin, the touch of his hands, the gravel in his voice when he made that promise.“Next time? You’ll be fully awake for it.”A choked sound escapes me, something between a curse and a whimper.Because even now, locked away in my room, separated by walls and reason and common fucking sense…I think I want there to be a next time.