RENT A HEART

Eve's POV

WARNING!!! - This chapter is rated #18

I paced back and forth in my room, unable to sleep a wink, my mind endlessly replaying the events of the day and wondering what Chris was doing.

A part of me desperately wanted to see him before I went to bed. I didn't know if it was hormones or ovulation, but ever since he kissed me at the club, I'd silently craved another kiss from him.

The fact that the two times it should have happened were interrupted by mundane things frustrated me to no end.

I jumped onto the bed in frustration and covered myself with the duvet, trying to force myself to sleep. Otherwise, I couldn't promise I wouldn't go and knock on his door.

"Arrrhggghh," I screamed in frustration, tossing the duvet to the side and heading towards the door. Just as I was about to turn the knob and open it, I heard a soft knock on my door.

"Eve, it's me, Chris. Are you already asleep?" I heard him say through the door, and my heart melted, skipping several beats.

I ran back to my bed to scream into my pillows in excitement before composing myself and going back to the door. I took a few quick breaths to calm my racing heart before opening the door. There he stood, leaning against the doorframe with one arm and the other on his waist.

He was wearing loose navy blue pajamas that did nothing to hide his ridiculously good-looking physique.

"Come on in," I said, moving aside for him to enter before closing the door behind him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you or wake you from your sleep. I just couldn't sleep," he said as he walked inside, his gaze sweeping across the room.

"Oh, it's fine, no need to apologize. I wasn't asleep yet," I admitted truthfully, trying to appear nonchalant despite the butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

"Your room looks really... beautiful," he said, his voice slightly hesitant as he made himself comfortable on one of the sofas.

I laughed at how he'd worded his compliment. "I think the phrase you're looking for is 'masculine, bold, minimalist, dull,'" I said, chuckling as I sat beside him on the sofa, leaving a small space between us.

"Well, I mean, don't get me wrong. I was expecting a pink or peach-colored themed room and not a dark-themed room, which is my favorite, by the way. It's exactly how my room looks, if you remember," he said calmly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

Him mentioning his room made me remember the almost-kiss that very morning, and the image instantly made me feel warm inside.

"I had a great time at the dinner party. You have a really lovely family.... one that I envy, to be honest," he said, the last part quietly, but I heard him clearly.

Just like during the wedding reception and now, I noticed the look of sadness in his face whenever he was around my family or talked about how nice my family was to me, and I wondered what his family was like.

"Tell me about yourself. I don't remember you ever doing that, but somehow you know a lot about me," I asked simply, not wanting to come on too strong so he'd feel comfortable telling me.

"Oh, that? There's really nothing interesting about me, to be fair. Just an only child who lost his mum at a tender age and isn't really close with his father," he said with a sense of melancholy in his voice and face.

I reached out and took his hands in mine as I could see the sadness behind his eyes that he was trying to hide. The death of a mother isn't something I'd wish on my enemy. I don't think I can survive if I ever lost my mum, and hearing him grow up without a mother figure broke my heart.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I said as I gave his hand a gentle squeeze, trying to convey my feelings to him.

He just smiled at me, and that was the saddest smile I'd ever seen in my life.

"My mum..." he stared into space, lost in the memory.

"My mum was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and was given three months to live when I was four years old. I was still young then, but I remember her always lying on the bed with wires attached to her hands and both doctors and nurses coming and going.... it was later that I was told that she refused to be admitted to the hospital to get treated because she didn't want to leave me alone by myself, as my dad was a busy man, hardly home."

I listened in silence, my heart breaking with every word that came out of his mouth.

"She went on to live till I was ten... Oh, she fought. She really fought to be with me, but cancer was a son of a bitch and took her. She died in my arms, telling me a story. I thought she had slept off, only for the doctor to rush in and try CPR on her and declare her dead a few minutes later."

"I'm so sorry," I said, my voice thick with emotion. I reached out and hugged him tight, burying my face in his shoulder. I can't begin to understand what he went through; it was heartbreaking and traumatizing for a child to experience that.

He rubbed my back and assured me that he was okay, but I knew he wasn't. He was just being a man and minimizing his hurt.

I gently drew away from his embrace and looked at his face, but there were no tears on them, just pain and sadness.

"Aww, I didn't tell you my sob story to make you cry," he said, his voice soft, and used his thumbs to gently wipe away the tears on my face. That was when I noticed I was sobbing for him, overwhelmed by his grief.

He planted feathery kisses on my temple, both eyes, and the tip of my nose before gathering me back into his warm arms, holding me close.

"I'm okay, I promise," he said as he patted my back gently, and that was the only thing I remembered before dozing off into the dream world, comforted by his presence.

---------

I fluttered my eyes open after a few hours of sleep, but somehow I knew it wasn't morning yet. Something had woken me up.

"Took you long enough," a familiar voice said, and that was when I looked a little ahead and saw the most beautiful eyes I'd grown to love seeing.

"Chris?" I called out, needing to be certain I wasn't dreaming. He was lying on my bed, propping his head on his left hand as he stared at me with a soft smile.

"Hmm, good morning," he said, his smile widening.

"Is it morning?" I asked sleepily, while he nodded.

"What time is it?" I asked. "4 am," he said simply, while I nodded. At least I still had a few hours before dawn.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked.

"A few hours. You slept in my arms... again," he chuckled, a warmth spreading through me at his words.

I watched him reach out his hand and gently moved the strands of my hair away from my face, tucking them behind my ear.

He then cupped the side of my face, his thumb softly caressing my cheek as he stared at me with emotions I knew all too well, tenderness, desire, and something deeper that I couldn't quite name.

"You look beautiful when you sleep," he blurted out, his voice a husky whisper. I couldn't help but blush, the warmth rising in my cheeks.

He just kept staring at my face until his full concentration settled on my lips, and the tension in the room began to build, thick and palpable.

As he tried to move closer i withdraw and came down from the bed. I could feel what was about to happen, and if i allow it there would be no turning back from it.

I walked towards the window and tried to concentrate on the light that was shining withing the estate but couldnt as my emotions were all over the place.

I turned as I heard his soft footsteps approaching me from behind.

His silhouette, usually so composed, seemed different, charged with something that mirrored the heat that had been building within me since the start of our arrangement.

I could feel him watching me, a slow, deliberate scrutiny that made me self conscious.

He moved towards me then, while i held my breath, as if afraid any sound might break the fragile spell that had settled around us.

He stopped just a foot away, and I could see the unspoken question in his eyes, a blend of desire and something almost like hesitation.

His hand came up, a gentle graze against my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw, and I almost gasped at the electricity that ran through me.

"Eve," he whispered, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within me, "this… this shouldn't be happening."

My breath hitched at his words, and my hand, almost without my conscious consent, found his, pressing his palm closer to my skin.

"But it is, Chris," I whispered back, my own voice barely audible. "And I...I don't want to stop." I hadn't intended to be so honest, but the words tumbled out, propelled by the emotions raging within me.

He leaned in then, our breaths mixing, his gaze locking with mine, a vortex of need and want. The scent of his cologne, musky and captivating, filled my senses, making my head spin.

His hand moved to the small of my back, drawing me closer until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. And when his lips found mine, it was like a spark igniting a fire. The kiss was hesitant at first, a gentle exploration that deepened into a hungry demand.

He carried me in a bridal style towards the bed with our lips still locked in a fierce kiss. I inwardly protested as soon as our lips separated when my head hit the pillows.

My hands moved almost automatically, drawn to the crisp fabric of his shirt. I fumbled with the buttons, a strange urgency gripping me. Every touch, every breath we exchanged, was a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken desire that had simmered beneath the surface.

The contract, the careful plans and strategies, vanished. All that existed was the need, the craving, and the dizzying sensation of finally surrendering to what we had both been denying for so long. I reached for him, desperate for more and as his lips made their way to my neck, I knew we had reached a point where neither of us wanted to go back.