Chapter 143: A kiss? Broken agreement.

She was completely exposed to him, utterly transparent, while he remained a towering, unreadable wall of dark secrets.

And standing here in the dark, unable to see her own hands, the weight of her blindness mixed with his endless secrecy felt suffocating.

"A secret," she repeated, her voice turning icy and bitter. "Of course. Everything with you is a secret, isn’t it?"

Aaron’s brow furrowed slightly. "Isabella—"

"If you’re not going to answer me, I want to go back," she said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Aaron let out a small, tired sigh, assuming she was simply putting up her usual dramatic fight. "You just got here. Enjoy the air."

"Then take me back," she demanded, her voice rising.

"Isabella—"

"I said take me back!"

Before he could respond, Isabella abruptly turned her back on him. Driven by pure, reckless frustration, she took a hard step forward, intent on walking back toward the road on her own.

Because she was blind, she had no idea which direction they had come from. Her shoe caught in a small dip in the sand, making her stumble awkwardly.

She caught her balance, her heart hammering, and took two more rapid, unsteady steps into the darkness.

Aaron’s eyes darkened as he watched her wander blindly into the open beach.

"Stop," he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.

She didn’t stop. She took another fast step, her arms reaching out slightly to feel for an obstacle that wasn’t there.

Aaron closed the distance between them in three long, rapid strides. He reached out, his massive hand closing around her upper arm to pull her back.

"Let go!" she gasped out, struggling violently against his hold, twisting her body to break free. "Don’t touch me! Let go of me!"

"Isabella, stand still—"

"I said leave me alone!" she yelled, her voice suddenly cracking on the last word.

Aaron froze.

He didn’t release her arm, but his grip instantly softened. In the quiet darkness of the beach, he heard it... the sharp, ragged, hitching sound of her breathing.

He moved closer, stepping around her until he was standing directly in front of her. He looked down at her face, and his heart gave a strange, violent thud.

Tears were streaming quietly down her pale cheeks, sparkling like tiny diamonds in the dark night air.

She was biting her lower lip so hard it was almost white, furiously trying to wipe the wetness away with the back of her sleeve, her whole body trembling with silent, overwhelming frustration.

The light, playful teasing in Aaron’s chest died instantly, replaced by a dark, heavy ache.

"Leave me alone," she whispered again, her voice small and broken as she tried to pull her face away from him. "Just... go away."

"No," Aaron said softly.

"Aaron, please—"

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gentle rumble.

Isabella let out a harsh, bitter laugh, fresh tears slipping past her lashes. "I can’t."

The words were short, simple, and utterly brutal. They carried the raw, bleeding truth of her dark world, hitting Aaron harder than any blade ever could.

He went completely silent.

Slowly, carefully, Aaron raised his hands. He cupped her small, hot face between his large, calloused palms, his thumbs gently wiping away the hot tears spilling over her cheeks.

He guided her head up, turning her face so she was oriented directly toward his voice, toward his chest, toward his presence.

Isabella opened her mouth to snap at him again, to tell him to stop pitying her.

She didn’t get the chance.

Aaron leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against hers.

Isabella went rigid as a statue. Her mind went completely blank, her breath catching so hard in her throat it felt like her chest was going to explode.

The sudden, intense heat of his mouth, the clean, intoxicating scent of cedarwood wrapping around her, the sheer pressure of his lips taking hers, it knocked every single thought out of her head.

She was supposed to push him away. She was supposed to slap his face.

Instead, as Aaron deepened the kiss, his warm tongue gently parting her lips to taste her, a soft, helpless whimpering sound escaped her throat. Her knees buckled under her.

Aaron caught her instantly, sliding his large arm around her waist to pull her firmly against his massive frame, lifting her slightly off her feet so she didn’t collapse into the sand.

He held her tightly, kissing her with a deep, dark, possessive hunger he had been suppressing for weeks.

For five long, breathless seconds, the entire universe vanished for Isabella.

There was no Kian Carter. No stolen inheritance. No looming, terrifying eye surgery. No Klara. No filthy dreams. No endless questions about Aaron’s private life.

There was only the crashing of the ocean, the cold wind, and the scorching, addictive heat of the man holding her like she was the only real thing in the dark.

She melted against him like hot candy, her hands instinctively clutching at the dark leather of his jacket.

Then, reality hit her like a thunderbolt.

Isabella gasped, her mind snapping back into focus. Shock and horror rushed through her blood. She raised her hands and slammed her palms against his heavy chest with all her strength, shoving herself away from him.

Aaron let her go, taking a small step back, his own breathing heavy and shallow, his dark blue eyes completely blown out with unshielded desire.

Isabella staggered back two steps, her hand flying up to cover her swollen, hot lips. Her face was burning so violently she felt like she was on fire.

"What... what the hell was that?!" she yelled, her voice trembling with pure, unadulterated shock. "What do you think you’re doing?!"

Aaron stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily as his brain slowly rebooted from the electric rush of her taste. He wiped the corner of his thumb across his lower lip, looking down at her with a lazy, dangerous intensity.

"You wouldn’t stop being angry," he answered plainly, his deep voice still thick with lingering desire.

Isabella’s jaw dropped. "So you kissed me?!"

"It worked," Aaron noted smoothly, gesturing toward her face. "You stopped crying."

"That was your solution?!" she screamed, her dignity burning to a crisp right there on the sand. "To take advantage of me because I was upset?!"

"I didn’t take advantage of anything," Aaron countered, a slow, wicked smirk beginning to curl the corner of his mouth. "You responded, little bird. In fact, you melted into my arms like you’ve been starving for it."

"I was caught off guard!" Isabella argued desperately, her face turning an even deeper shade of crimson. "I was shocked! You breached our agreement! We had a strict contract, Aaron! No touching, no romance, no physical intimacy! You completely crossed the line!"

Aaron folded his arms across his broad chest, stepping slightly closer to her, his smirk widening into something dark and insufferable.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Isabella stiffened, her hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. "What is so interesting?!"

"I don’t remember being the first one to breach our agreement," Aaron said softly, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Isabella froze. A strange, uneasy pit formed in her stomach. "What... what are you talking about?"

Aaron took another slow, deliberate step toward her, his heavy boots sinking quietly into the damp sand until he was standing right in front of her again.

"Two nights ago," Aaron began, his tone entirely calm, as if he were discussing the weather. "At the mansion. You were thoroughly drunk. I carried you upstairs and laid you in your bed."

Isabella swallowed hard, her heart suddenly beating a frantic, erratic rhythm against her ribs. She didn’t remember any of this. "So what? You put me to bed. That proves nothing."

"You asked me for a glass of water," Aaron continued, ignoring her interruption. "I walked out of the room to fetch it for you."

He paused, letting the silence stretch between them. The waves crashed against the shore in the background.

Isabella felt a cold drop of sweat trace down her back. "And?"

Aaron leaned down, his face stopping mere inches from hers, his deep voice delivering every single word with explicit, brutal clarity that painted an agonizingly detailed picture directly in her mind.

"And when I walked back into the room," Aaron whispered, his breath hot against her skin, "you were on your back. Your gown was pushed up to your waist. Your fingers were buried deep inside your own wet heat, working yourself mercilessly on the mattress."

Isabella’s entire brain stopped.

The air left her lungs completely. Her eyes widened in absolute, paralyzing horror. The world around her seemed to go dead silent.

"No..." she breathed out, her voice barely a whisper. "No... that’s... that’s not..."

"Yes," Aaron cut in softly, unrelenting. "You were moaning helpless, filthy sounds into your pillow. You were writhing on the sheets, spreading your legs wide for an empty room."

"Stop it..." Isabella gasped, her hands trembling violently as her pride shattered into a million unrecoverable pieces. "You’re lying! I would never—"

"And right as you spilled over your own hand," Aaron added, leaning in closer until his lips almost touched her ear, delivering the final, fatal blow: "You cried out my name."

Silence descended over the beach.

Isabella couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even breathe.

Her mind spun out of control, violently pulling back the pieces of the dream she thought she had imagined two mornings ago.

The heavy weight on the mattress. The intense, hot friction between her legs. The deep, dark voice commanding her. The sudden, intense climax that woke her up right before the maid entered the room.

It hadn’t been a dream.

It had never been a dream.