The Countdown Expires

CLARA’S POV

His large hands gripped my hips. His long fingers dug deep into my skin, firm and unyielding, pressing hard enough to leave dark bruises. I was shoved backward against a freezing cold surface. A sheet of glass. A marble pillar. I could not tell, and I did not care. My lungs forgot how to function. I could not draw a single breath.

His hot mouth grazed the sensitive skin right below my ear. His teeth scraped along my jawline, sending a sharp thrill straight down my spine.

"You should've said yes."

His deep, rough voice washed over me. It vibrated against my collarbone, scrambling my overwhelmed senses.

My hips arched instinctively against him. His hand slid up the back of my bare thigh, bunching the silk fabric of my dress around my waist.

"I don't—"

"You don't what? You don't want this?" He chuckled, the sound dark and knowing against my neck.

His fingers slipped past the lace edge of my underwear. He found the slick wetness coating my pussy, stroking the swollen heat of my arousal.

I gasped for air. The protest locked tight in my throat.

"That's what I thought." His piercing blue eyes stared down at me, starved and predatory. "Tell me you want this, Clara."

His thumb found my clit. He pressed down hard. He dragged his thumb in slow, excruciating circles over the sensitive nerve ending.

My head fell back against the cold wall. A shameless moan tore out of my mouth.

"Say it."

"I want—"

He pressed harder. He circled my clit again, relentless, demanding my total surrender.

"Please—"

"Good girl."

His mouth crashed down on mine, hot and consuming. I hovered on the edge, seconds away from coming apart around his fingers.

I shot up in bed. My lungs dragged in jagged gasps of air like a drowning victim breaking the surface.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, threatening to crack the bone. Damp hotel sheets twisted around my legs, binding me in a mess of my own sweat.

I squeezed my thighs together. A heavy, relentless ache throbbed deep inside my pussy. The slick wetness soaking my underwear was a cruel, undeniable reality of what my brain had just conjured.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I groaned out loud into the pitch-black darkness of the massive hotel suite.

A dream. It was just a dream.

A vivid, explicit, humiliating wet dream about Kaelen Voss. The exact same man I had firmly rejected to his face a mere three days ago.

I threw off the heavy duvet. The cool air-conditioning hit my damp tank top, making my skin prickle with goosebumps.

Self-disgust churned in my stomach. I had spent three straight days locked inside this opulent suite. I had played the ultimate game of hide-and-seek to avoid Declan, to avoid the lingering threat of running into Rhys, and above all, to avoid Kaelen. I thought starving myself of the outside world would purge the chaotic mess from my system. Instead, the isolation had only fed my treacherous subconscious. Now, my own mind was staging a rebellion.

I reached blindly for the wooden nightstand. My fingers wrapped around my phone.

The screen flared to life, illuminating the dark bedroom with a harsh white glow. 7:14 AM.

A stack of notifications waited for me. Three texts from Stella demanding updates. Two missed calls from my frantic mother.

And then, sitting at the bottom of the list, was the one specific message that made my stomach twist into a harsh knot. It was from a number I had blocked hours after storming out of his penthouse. My phone still displayed the preview of the text he had sent right before the block took effect.

*Three days, Clara. That's how long my offer stands.*

Today was day three.

His offer to fake date him and make Rhys regret his miserable existence expired today. Given his ruthless efficiency, the deadline would likely hit right at noon.

I stared at the glowing text. A stupid, reckless part of my brain begged me to open my settings. It whispered at me to unblock his number, type out a desperate apology, and surrender to the deal. My body screamed at the top of its lungs that I had made the wrong choice. The phantom pressure of his heavy hands still burned on my hips. The memory of his thumb circling my clit made my breath hitch all over again.

I locked the phone screen and tossed it onto the mattress.

I refused to be a pawn. I refused to let Rhys use me, and I refused to let Kaelen Voss use me as a prop in whatever corporate revenge game he was playing.

I dragged myself out of bed and marched straight into the bathroom.

I twisted the shower dial all the way to cold. I stepped under the freezing spray, gasping as the icy water shocked my overheated skin. I stood under the freezing deluge for ten long minutes. I desperately needed to wash away the sticky sweat, the lingering arousal, and the phantom ghost of Kaelen's touch.

By the time I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my shivering body, the thick fog in my head had cleared. It was past seven-thirty.

I dressed in armor. A pair of simple black leggings and an oversized, faded gray hoodie that swallowed my frame. No makeup. My damp hair pulled into a messy ponytail.

I needed coffee. I needed caffeine and fresh air to reset my brain before Declan's massive hockey game tomorrow.

I grabbed my phone and the plastic room key. I slipped out of my bedroom, wincing at the soft click of the latch. The main living area of the suite was silent. The heavy curtains remained drawn. My parents and Alistair were still asleep. Thank God. The last thing I needed was my mother's morning cheerfulness or Alistair walking around in his boxers.

I stepped out into the quiet hotel corridor. The thick carpet muffled my footsteps. The long hallway stretched out before me, empty and peaceful.

I made it exactly three steps toward the elevator bank before a voice caught me.

"Sneaking out?"

I froze dead in my tracks. My spine went rigid.

I turned around slowly. Declan stood casually in the doorway of the main suite. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a cocky, knowing smirk that made my blood boil instantly.

"Is that how you greet your stepbrother after successfully avoiding him for three whole days?"

I dropped any pretense of morning pleasantries. "You sold me out to Kaelen. Why the hell did you do it?"

The arrogant amusement vanished from his face. I watched the confident smirk bleed into genuine, uncomfortable guilt. He dropped his arms to his sides, the bravado evaporating.

"I'm sorry, Clara. I had no choice."

"You had no choice? You set me up. You used my trust to hand me over to a stranger."

"Did he hurt you?"

My temper snapped. The anger I had been bottling up for seventy-two hours exploded.

"You sold me out, Declan! You handed me over to him, and you think a simple apology is going to fix the massive mess you caused in my life?" My voice echoed loudly down the empty hallway. I didn't care who heard me. I didn't care if I woke up the entire floor.

I marched back toward him and shoved roughly past his shoulder. "Move. I need coffee before I lose my mind or throw you off the balcony."

Declan caught my arm. His grip was surprisingly gentle, lacking his usual rough hockey-player strength. "I said I'm sorry, Clara. Are you okay? Did that bastard hurt you?"

I yanked my arm out of his grasp. I pointed a trembling finger at his chest. "I am fine. So back off. And never play games with me again. I don't care what sick, twisted deal you have going on with Kaelen Voss. Keep me out of it. Stay out of my life."

Declan held up both hands in surrender. He took a step back into the doorway, putting space between us. "Alright. I get it. Just... be careful, Clara. Please. Don't do anything stupid."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means what it means." His jaw tightened. "And for the record, Rhys has no idea you're in Seattle. I didn't tell him a damn thing. You can stop looking over your shoulder like he's going to jump out of a corner."

Before I could interrogate him further about his cryptic warning, before I could demand to know what 'don't do anything stupid' meant, Declan stepped backward into the suite and firmly shut the heavy door in my face.

I stood alone in the silent hallway. My fists clenched tightly at my sides. My nails dug half-moons into my palms. The silence of the corridor pressed in on me.

Don't do anything stupid.

It was a little late for that. I was already drowning in stupid decisions.

My phone buzzed in my hoodie pocket. The sudden vibration startled me out of my thoughts. I pulled it out and stared at the screen.

STELLA: *Proof of life required. Are you dead in that hotel room? Or do I need to file a missing person report?*

I stared at the glowing text bubble, my thumbs flying over the keyboard to formulate a response.

ME: *Alive. Barely. Up early. Couldn't sleep so I'm going to find coffee.*

STELLA: *At 7:30 AM? Who are you and what did you do with my best friend? Bet I know why you couldn't sleep. Starts with K. Ends with aelen Voss.*

My jaw tightened. I glared at the phone screen as if Stella were standing right in front of me, smirking with her annoying psychic abilities. I almost threw the device against the wall.

ME: *I will block your number next. Don't test me.*

STELLA: *You love me. Go get your coffee and stop spiraling. Embrace a fresh start today. New day and all that bullshit.*

ME: *Motivational speeches aren't your thing.*

STELLA: *I know. Trying something new. How's it working?*

ME: *Terribly.*

STELLA: *Good. That's more on brand. Love you. Text me later.*

I shoved the phone back into my pocket and turned toward the elevators.

A fresh start. Right.

Today was day three. Kaelen's relentless offer expired at noon.

Not that I cared. Not that I was meticulously counting down the exact hours until my window of opportunity slammed shut forever.

I hit the down button and waited for the metal doors to open. I refused to let Kaelen Voss control my life, my mind, or my body for one more second. I just needed caffeine, a quiet café, and a moment to convince myself I had made the right choice.