Chapter 132 - 0132: My Pulse Is Racing Because I Hate You

Chapter 132: Chapter 0132: My Pulse Is Racing Because I Hate You

Elena’s Point Of View

His words hit me like a slap.

"I won’t fuck you," he said finally, his voice low but hard as steel, "while you’re still wearing another man’s ring."

For a second, everything inside me went completely silent. The air between us felt heavy, almost visible, pressing down on my chest until I thought I’d choke on it.

My fingers curled into fists on the edge of the vanity, my knuckles pale, strain turning the skin over my bones translucent. He didn’t move away. He didn’t soften.

He just stood there, heat radiating off him like a second heartbeat, his breath brushing against my cheek, teasing my skin with every exhale. I could hear my own blood roaring in my ears, drowning out whatever rational thought I’d walked in here still clinging to.

The humiliation hit first... hot, quick, shameful. Not because of what he’d said, but because part of me wanted him anyway. Part of me wanted to reach up, grab him by the collar of his worn leather jacket, and pull him into me until there was no space left to breathe.

My body was betraying me in real time, every nerve wired toward him, every muscle trembling with a need I refused to name. I hated how easily he could unravel me with nothing but proximity and a few careless words, hated that some traitorous part of my heart had been starving for exactly this kind of attention for longer than I cared to admit.

It frightened me, how quickly he’d found the cracks I thought I’d hidden so well, how effortlessly he slipped his fingers into the seams of me and pulled.

Then came the anger, slow and searing. How dare he corner me, strip me bare with words, then pull back like he held all the control? He was dangerous. Men like Jaxx were always dangerous, not just because of what they could do to your body, but because of what they could do to your mind.

He wasn’t a man you fell into; he was a man you got lost in. And I couldn’t afford to get lost now, not while I was clawing my way out of a marriage that had already stolen pieces of me I might never recover. I had spent months relearning how to stand on my own, and here he was, threatening to knock the ground out from under me all over again, except this time I wasn’t sure I’d mind the fall.

I forced my eyes up to his, but it was a mistake. His eyes were darker than before, as though something living inside him had uncoiled and now watched me from the shadows. They pinned me in place, burned me alive. My pulse hammered at the base of my throat, each beat a warning drum.

My thighs pressed together involuntarily as his gaze dipped lower, tracking every shallow breath, as if he could see straight through the pale silk of my gown to the chaos underneath.

I felt exposed in a way no dress could have caused, as though he’d already peeled back every layer I used to protect myself and found the truth waiting underneath.

"Jaxx..." I whispered, though it wasn’t a plea. It was a warning... for him, for me, I couldn’t say which.

His jaw flexed, a tight knot jumping beneath his tanned skin. Still, he didn’t move an inch.

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. It came out brittle but sharp. "So what you’re saying you’ll only touch me when I fall for you? When I choose you?"

My laugh cracked like glass, harsh and low against the quiet hum of the boutique outside. "Then keep dreaming, Jaxx, because that will never happen. Not in this lifetime."

I took a small step forward, trying to push the words between us like a shield, trying to reclaim my space. "And certainly not in the next, if there even is one."

The corner of his mouth twitched... a shadow of a smirk, dangerous, wicked, entirely too knowing. "Is that so?" he murmured.

"Yes," I snapped, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me. He heard it; I knew he did by the subtle shift in his dark eyes, something almost satisfied settling there.

"You’re an arrogant, delusional bastard," I hissed, leaning into his face despite my body trembling. "You step into my life whenever you feel like it, throw my world off its axis, and expect me to bow to whatever rules you pull out of thin air? You’re insane, Jaxx. Stay the hell away from me."

Jaxx didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He simply chuckled, a sound like velvet dragged over gravel, making my stomach coil tight. "Call me whatever you want, Elena. Insane. Arrogant. A bastard. It doesn’t change the fact that your pulse is slamming against your collarbone right now because I’m breathing the same air as you."

"My pulse is racing because I hate you," I spat, my voice cracking under the weight of the thick, suffocating tension. "I hate how you look at me. I hate how you speak to me. I hate that you think you can just stand there and tell me what I feel."

"I don’t need to tell you," he whispered, stepping closer until the buckle of his belt pressed against the silk over my hips. "I can feel it. You’re burning alive, bambina. Just like I am."

"Don’t call me that," I rasped, my chest heaving against his. "Don’t pretend there’s something sweet between us. You came here to mark your territory, to make sure I don’t forget you exist. Well, message received. Now get out."

"I’m not going anywhere," he growled low, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that felt physical, heavy, suffocating. "Not until you stop using that ring on your finger as an excuse to run from what’s happening right here."

"It’s not an excuse," I cried softly, my fingers digging into his shirt, my knuckles white as I tried to hold him off, or hold myself up. "It’s my life, Jaxx. Real life. Not some dark fantasy where you get to play savior."

"I’m no savior, Elena," he murmured, his face dropping so close I could feel the heat radiating from his lips. "I’m the storm that’s going to tear that suffocating little life apart. But only when you’re ready to step into it."

He moved then, just a fraction, yet enough to make my heart slam violently against my ribs. Slowly, deliberately, he reached up and tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind my ear.

His fingers barely grazed my skin, but the touch was electric, sending a shudder down my spine I couldn’t hide. His hand lingered near my face, not quite touching, but close enough that the heat of his palm burned like a brand.

"Men like me," he said softly, his eyes locked on mine, "don’t need you to fall first."

I blinked at him, my breath caught in my throat. "Then what do you need?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, exposed and raw, and I hated how much I meant it.

He leaned in, his lips hovering a whisper’s distance from my ear. His breath was hot, his voice lower now, a growl wrapped in silk. "I need you to stop lying to yourself," he said. "That’s all."

My hands trembled where they gripped his chest. I wanted to shove him away with everything I had. I wanted to pull him closer until our clothes caught fire. My body and my mind were at war, and he stood right in the middle of it, calm, steady, infuriatingly patient, as though he had all the time in the world to watch me lose the fight against myself.

I turned my head slightly, and our eyes locked again, so close our noses almost brushed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I registered the absurdity of it all... that I could feel more alive standing here trembling than I had in years of careful, practiced calm.

"You think you know me," I hissed, though it came out weaker than intended, trailing off into the quiet space between us. "You think you’ve got me figured out? You don’t."

Something flickered in his eyes... not anger, not amusement, but something deeper, sharper, raw, almost vulnerable in a way that startled me more than his confidence ever had. "No," he said simply. "But I’m learning."

I hated that my heart tripped over that. Hated that some small part of me wanted him to keep learning, wanted to be studied and understood by someone who looked at me like I was worth the effort. Hated that he could see straight through the walls I’d built, the ones my husband had left cracked and bleeding long before Jaxx ever arrived to press against the fractures.

I opened my mouth to burn him with another denial, but no sound came out. The silence between us stretched taut, humming with everything neither of us dared to say aloud.

He didn’t press, didn’t close the gap entirely. He just stood there, close enough for me to smell the faintest trace of smoke, leather, and single-malt whiskey clinging to his shirt, close enough for his presence to fill every inch of space I had left. His thumb moved again, a ghost of a touch along my jaw, and this time I didn’t flinch.

"You’re dangerous," I whispered. "You’re going to ruin me."

His smirk returned, slow, curling like a flame catching on dry wood. "Maybe," he said. "But not tonight."

I let out a shaky breath, my throat tight. "You’re infuriating."

"Am I?" His voice turned teasing now, but still low, still heavy with promise. "Or am I just the first man who’s told you no?"

My cheeks flamed red. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to kiss him until neither of us could breathe. My fingers dug into the hard fabric of his jacket to keep from doing either. "You’re impossible," I said instead.

That smirk deepened, cutting lines around his mouth. His hand finally dropped from my face, only to rest on the vanity counter beside my hip, caging me in completely. "Bambina," he murmured, tilting his head slightly as he watched me with that dark, unreadable gaze, "you never cease to amaze me."

The sound of that word, *Bambina*, vibrated down my spine like a warning and a promise at once. His voice, velvet and gravel, threaded itself around me until it grew hard to tell where my pulse ended and his began.

I tried to lift my chin, to salvage what remained of my shattered composure. "Jaxx," I said, my tone sharper than my trembling hands betrayed, "whatever game you think you’re playing, I’m not interested."

His smirk only widened. "It doesn’t have to be love," he said softly, steel beneath the words, a certainty that sent a shiver straight to my core. "But what I do know..." He leaned in until his lips hovered a whisper from mine, his breath warm against my mouth. "...is that you will choose me, Elena. You’ll beg for me. And when that happens, I’ll take you."

My stomach flipped, heat and fury colliding until my knees felt weak. "Then don’t touch me, Jaxx," I snapped, even as my voice cracked under the overwhelming strain. "You men are all manipulative bastards... especially the ones with abs."

He actually chuckled at that, low and dangerous, the sound vibrating against my palms where they still pressed to his chest. "You wound me," he murmured, eyes glinting like midnight glass. "But you’re not wrong."

I tried to step back, but his arms shifted, one hand bracing firm on the vanity beside my hip, the other rising, slow and deliberate, to tilt my chin upward. My breath hitched as his thumb traced the edge of my jaw, not rough, not gentle either, just claiming space, as though he had every right to it.

Then, with infuriating control, he dipped his head, his tongue darting out to lick the corner of my mouth, a slow, deliberate sweep that sent a violent shockwave through my entire body.

I gasped, more from surprise than anything else, but he didn’t stop. His mouth trailed down, licking a slow path along my jaw, then lower, until the warmth of his tongue pressed against the sensitive skin of my neck.

"Stop..." I whispered, but my hands had come up without my realizing it, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. "Jaxx..."

He hummed against my skin, the sound vibrating over my throat. "You say stop," he murmured between licks, his breath hot, "but your body..." His hand slid down, fingers splaying against the bare skin of my back where the dress had gaped open. "...tells a different story."

My knees knocked together. I pressed my thighs tight, fighting the treacherous heat pooling low in my gut, furious at how easily he could summon it. My breath came uneven now, shallow, betraying me with every gasp.

"Jaxx..." I tried again, but it emerged as more of a whimpered sigh than a protest.

His lips ghosted just beneath my ear, close enough for me to feel the shape of his words before he spoke them. "Every time you talk back to me," he murmured, "every time you try to push me away... it makes me want you more."

His hand slid further along my spine, palm hot against my skin, fingers tracing circles that made my stomach tighten into knots. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight it, but my body had its own will now, deaf to every argument my mind still tried to raise. My head said run; my pulse said stay.

"You’re a bastard," I hissed, my voice trembling with something that wasn’t quite anger anymore. "You’re just..."

"Say it," he coaxed, dragging his teeth lightly along the shell of my ear, sending shivers straight down to my toes. "Say what I am."

"You’re dangerous," I whispered, unable to keep the shudder out of my voice.

His chuckle was dark and quiet. "Good girl," he said softly. "At least you know."

I hated the way the words made heat bloom low in my belly. Hated the way he stood there so calmly while I came completely undone in front of him, as if my unraveling were something he’d been patiently waiting to witness.

I tried again to push him back, but his fingers flexed against my bare skin, not restraining me, only reminding me how close he was, how completely he had me trapped between want and reason.

"Stop playing with me," I managed, though it sounded weak even to my own ears.

"Playing?" His voice turned all silk again, slow and low. "Bambina, if I were playing, you’d already be screaming my name."

He moved then, not closer, but deeper somehow, his presence folding around me like a second skin. He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes locked on me with that dark intensity that made it impossible to breathe. "You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now," he said, his voice rougher now, cracks showing through his formidable control.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs. "Then let me go."

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "You don’t want me to."

"I do," I insisted, though my fingers were still gripping his shirt, holding him there, refusing to let go even as the words left my mouth.

He tilted his head slightly, his nose brushing mine, his breath ragged now. "Do you?" he whispered.

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t move. The room felt too small, the air too thick, his body heat sinking into mine until I wasn’t sure where I ended and he began. Somewhere beneath the panic and the want, I recognized the terrifying truth that I no longer knew which answer was the lie.

His hand slid up, fingers threading tightly into my hair at the base of my skull. His mouth hovered at my ear again, his voice low, rougher than it had ever been.

I could feel the dark hunger in it, the restraint snapping strand by strand, unraveling something in him just as surely as he was unraveling me.

"Bambina," he rasped, his breath hot against my skin, "how on earth am I supposed to be strict with you when every little thing you do right now gives me a hard-on, huh?"