Page 145 of Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 8

A lexander stood there, staring into the fire as the weight of everything he had been holding in for so long finally spilled out. He had not meant to open up to her like this. The plan had been to keep his distance, to bury the grief and the regret, to endure the tension between them in silence. But now that the words had escaped, there was no going back.

He had not expected her to react the way she had. Her soft voice, her careful words—they had touched something inside him that had been dormant for far too long. And the sympathy in her eyes, the understanding, made his chest tighten painfully.

He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. His emotions were a storm of their own, swirling uncontrollably inside him. The grief over his father, the crushing weight of expectation, the regret for what he had done to Genevieve—they were all crashing together, suffocating him. And in this moment, he could not hold it together any longer.

Without thinking, Alexander took a step toward her. He did not know what he was doing. All he knew was that the need for her closeness was overwhelming. The vulnerability he had just shown, the words he had spoken—it had left him raw and exposed, and for the first time in years, he found himself craving her comfort.

Genevieve, eyes wide with surprise, did not step back. She did not pull away. Instead, she looked up at him, her expression softening as the anger between them faded into something else. Something quieter. Something… tender.

“Alexander…” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

He stopped just in front of her, barely a breath separating them. The air felt charged, electric, as if the room had shrunk, and the only thing that mattered was the space between them. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at her, seeing the flicker of confusion and sympathy in her eyes.

She raised her hand hesitantly as though she was unsure whether to touch him or not. When her fingers finally brushed his arm, the sensation shot through him like a jolt of warmth, calming some of the storm that raged inside him. He had not realized just how much he needed that touch, needed her.

“I am sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “For everything. I never meant to hurt you. I… I did not know how to handle any of it.”

Genevieve did not say anything, but her touch became firmer, her hand gently resting on his arm, offering comfort in a way he had not expected. Her presence, her closeness, soothed him, even as the tension between them grew thicker with every second that passed.

Alexander’s breath hitched as his eyes flicked to hers. He could see the conflict in her gaze, the emotions she was battling, and he knew she was just as overwhelmed as he was. His hand moved almost on its own, slowly, cautiously reaching for hers. When his fingers finally found hers, their hands touched softly—tentatively, as though neither of them were sure where this moment was heading.

The touch was simple, but it felt like so much more. His skin tingled where it met hers, and the heat from her hand seemed to radiate through him, grounding him in a way nothing else had since his father’s death.

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, neither of them daring to move. Their hands, clasped loosely together, were the only point of contact, but it was enough. The unspoken tension, the pull between them, was growing stronger with each passing second, and Alexander’s breath grew heavier, more uneven.

Her eyes locked onto his, wide and full of emotion, and he could feel the unspoken question hanging between them. His gaze flicked down to her lips just for a second, and his heart raced as a dangerous thought flickered in the back of his mind.

Kiss her.

The urge was overwhelming, but he knew better. There was too much between them—too much unresolved pain, too many unsaid words. Yet, standing this close to her, with her hand in his, the memory of what they’d once shared was impossible to ignore.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, the simple movement sparking a heat between them that had not cooled despite the years. Genevieve’s breath caught, and he could feel the slight tremble in her hand as she struggled with the same emotions that were tearing him apart.

But then, before either of them could do something they could not take back, she gently pulled her hand away. The absence of her touch left a strange emptiness in its place, and Alexander felt the loss immediately.

Genevieve stepped back, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she blinked, trying to shake off the moment. “We… we cannot,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Not like this.”

Alexander closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to take a steadying breath. He nodded, though it pained him to agree. “I know.”

She glanced away, her cheeks flushed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as though she was trying to protect herself from whatever had just happened between them.

“I should go,” she muttered, not meeting his gaze.

And just like that, she turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing through the hallway as the door quietly closed behind her.

Alexander stood there for a long moment, staring at the door she had just walked through, his chest heaving with a mix of emotions he did not know how to process. His heart still pounded, and the ghost of her touch lingered on his skin, but the moment was gone.

He had wanted to kiss her. God, how he had wanted to kiss her.

But now… he was not sure if he had lost his chance.

The fire crackled behind him, casting flickering shadows on the walls, but the warmth from it could not compete with the cold that had settled in his chest. He had come so close—too close—and now all he was left with was the bitter taste of everything that had gone unsaid.

They had almost crossed a line. Almost. The storm still raged outside, and the tension between them was growing thicker by the hour.

This was not over.