Adam

"This is probably gonna hurt," Isabelle says, pouring some liquid onto a towel Eliza gave her before joining me by the fireplace.

I'm not entirely sure how we made it out of that mess or the woods, but when I came to, Claud and Louis were helping Isabelle get me off Phillip. They tried to have the EMTs check me out, but I was only concerned with them tending to Isabelle. That pissed both her and Eliza off, I didn't care. The last thing I deserved was to ease my suffering. After they realized their folly in arguing with me, they tried to take me to my room, but I also refused to be nursed like an infant.

We finally compromised by having me rest in the living room while Isabelle took care of my wounds. She presses the cloth against the gash on my cheek. The soothing warmth of the towel is soon overpowered by the searing pain caused by whatever she put on it.

"Fuck!" I hiss, straightening in my chair. I yank her arm away from my face, gripping it harder than necessary and growl, "Was it not enough you caused this? Do you have to amplify my suffering?"

She wrenches her arm free and scowls at me. "I didn't bash your brains in."

"No, your would-be assailants had the honor," I reply, snatching the towel from her and gently placing it over the wound myself.

"I never asked you to save me. I could've saved myself," she huffs, her brows furrowing.

"Sure, because you were doing a banged-up job of that, flat on your back, when I showed up," I retort, turning toward the fire. "You wouldn't have even been in the situation if you hadn't run off."

Her eyes narrow, and a flush of anger colors her cheeks.

"Do you always have to be a complete ass, or do you just save it for when you're around me?" she snaps, stomping toward the door before spinning back around. "And I wouldn't have left if you weren't so damn callous every second of the day."

"Oh, so now you think you know how I act all the time?"

"Yes. You're egotistical. You're a cold, dictatorial, egregious..." she rattles off, listing my lesser qualities.

"You think you're easier to live with? You're a smartass and lack any sort of deference , and you undermine any and all of my authority," I growl, rising from my chair and stalking toward her as she continues listing off my faults. As I draw closer to her, my heart pounds harder against my ribcage. "Argumentative, impudent, disobedient,

"Imperious, arrogant..." Isabelle raises her voice, trying to drown mine out. "Your worst fault—the one that drives me insane—is you're too—"

"And the worst of all of your many flaws," I yell, my voice bouncing off the walls. "You're so goddamn—"

"Stubborn!" we both shout at the same time.

We're standing so close that our chests touch with each breath. She looks up at me, and I'm startled by my body's response. My heart's fluttering.

Why?

I never thought it could feel this way again after Jessica, but here it is, palpitating like mad in my chest like a schoolboy giving his first crush googly eyes. We stay like this for a while, allowing the moment to crystallize in our minds for eternity as everything we've just said evaporates, and we're alone, depleted of months' worth of frustration and anger.

She places her hand on my chest, her eyes doe-like, filled with a soft glow.

"Thank you," she says delicately, her voice trembling slightly.

"For what?"

"For coming to save me today." Her expression softens, and I feel my own face relax. "I didn't get the chance to thank you yet."

"I didn't exactly save you," I admit.

"But you fought five men for me," I replies, her eyes growing sweeter with each word.

Before I can stop myself, I place my hand over hers and close my eyes, hoping to compose myself. But it's no use. After months of denying my feelings, she's managed to drive every fragment of my being insane all over again with a simple touch. The warmth of her supple hand against mine... I dreamt of it so many nights, and now that it's happening, I fully understand the inadequacies of my dreams. I gaze down at her, my eyes serious, but a small smile tugs at my lips.

"I'd do anything for you," I say, the words slipping out as if they've been waiting there for years—not only a revelation to her, but to myself as well.

Our fingers intertwine, and it feels like they were meant to be this way forever. I lean in closer, my gaze locked on her lips. Her warm breath mixes with mine, and we hover just inches apart, the tension between us building to a fever pitch.

Her eyes are intense, a combination of surprise and understanding, like she's been waiting for this moment too. I see the curiosity in her gaze, the way her lips part slightly in anticipation, and my pulse races at the thought of finally closing this distance. Her scent's intoxicating, the delicateness of roses and sweetness of honey, fill my senses, making it impossible to think of anything else outside of how badly I want to feel her lips on mine. The heat between us was almost unbearable, the magnetism pulling us closer and closer until I finally lean in and kiss her. The softness of her lips makes my head spin. She presses against me as we kiss, and I know I never want us to cease.

My eyes widen when her free hand reaches down to my cock. I pull back slightly to stare at her. Her eyes are full of hunger.

"You're sure?" I ask, breathless.

She bites her bottom lip and grins, her hand massaging my cock through my pants. Then, she licks her lips.

"I-I'll take that as a yes," I stammer, lifting her up. My cock swells as she wraps her legs around me, and I carry her toward my quarters. As we leave, I send a silent prayer that I remember how to get the boys back into full production mode.