⚠️Book Contains Explicit Content🔞

Gage didn’t make a habit of denying himself anything.

If he wanted something… anything, he’d claw his way to get it, consequences be damned.

But her? Thea?

She was the only goddamn exception.

Off-limits. Untouchable. A tempting little toy he had no right to shatter, yet that only made him itch to wrap his hands around her and play until she begged.

For months, he’d fought the urge, keeping his distance but fate, the-smug-bastard, threw her to him and he, being the despicable-asshole he was, couldn’t say no.

She’d walked into his life on his son’s arm, but that wasn’t an issue.

Because he’d take her anyway.

Steal her. Ruin her for anyone else. And keep her pinned beneath him for as long as it took to satisfy the hunger that’d been gnawing at him for months. 

THEA

~

I kept hoping my boyfriend would look at me. Just once. Just enough to feel like I still mattered.

But he never did.

So I went looking for attention elsewhere… and somehow, “elsewhere” turned out to be his father.

Gage.

The man I should’ve stayed the hell away from.

Gage wasn’t gentle, and he sure wasn’t safe, but he saw me and looked at me the way his son never did. And the moment I stepped toward him instead of away, I knew I’d crossed a line I couldn’t come back from.

It was wrong. Forbidden. A disaster begging to happen.

And yet… standing there in front of him, lonely and stupidly hopeful, I lean into the warmth he gave so easily, the attention he offered like it cost him nothing.

I should’ve walked away.

But I didn’t.

And neither did he.

: BREATH or DIE

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” Noah yelled at his friend after they’d held his head underwater a little too long.

“What the hell!” he snapped, but the curse didn’t stop laughter from bubbling out of him.

And somehow that laugh was contagious enough to pull a smile onto my lips.

Yeah, for some reason, I always loved watching him in water.

There was something freeing about the way he moved there, like the world couldn't touch him as long as his feet were off the ground.

Today was one of those rare days when that version of him showed up again.

Sunlight glazed over his shoulders as he dove under, resurfacing with a grin I hadn’t seen in what felt like weeks. His laughter carried across the pool, mixing with the splash of water and clinking of ice from the drink he’d balanced on the edge earlier.

It made my chest loosen a little.

He’d been so serious lately, so tense around me, like every conversation had a hidden trap he was trying to avoid. And each time I tried to ask what was wrong, he dodged the question with a vague “It’s nothing,” or “Just tired,” or “Don’t worry about it.”

The kind of answers that weren’t answers at all and leaves you turning things over in your mind, inventing problems that may or may not be real.

But here he was… smiling. Laughing. Splashing water at his friends while downing another sip of his drink.

It was refreshing. Painfully so.

Part of me wanted to believe this was just who he was—easy-going, fun-loving, unconcerned with things. But another part of me, the part that refused to shut up no matter how hard I tried, wondered if maybe the reason he’d been so tense lately was… me.

I mean, who wouldn’t be bothered? I moved in with him and his father two months ago, after losing my job and failing spectacularly at finding another. I was still going to school, sure, but that didn’t make paying bills any easier. And even though his father had insisted—actually insisted—that I focus on getting back on my feet, that I was welcome… the guilt still found ways to crawl under my skin and lodge itself there.

Nobody wants a partner who starts to feel like a burden.

Least of all me.

And I had started seeing myself that way… like a leech that was feeding off whatever warmth he had left.

His cold shoulder these past weeks… God, it wasn’t helping. But after he invited his friends over for drinks by the pool, somehow the mood shifted.

He was… in a better mood.

“Oh stop it!” one of the girls squealed, splashing him as he tickled her sides. They both burst into loud carefree giggles, obnoxiously close to each other.

I tried to ignore the sting in my stomach.

I really did.

I wasn’t the type to get jealous over nothing. And I trusted him. But trust didn’t erase the little pangs when she touched him so casually.

Truth be told, I already felt left out.

They were having fun, lounging at the edge of the pool while I sat in the shade with my legs crossed, hands wrapped around a sweating glass of soda I hadn’t taken a sip from in twenty minutes.

They’d said hi to me when they came in, but after that… it was like I disappeared. Not out of malice—just out of that natural ease people have with their long-time friends. They slipped back into old inside jokes and familiar dynamics like slipping into shoes they’d worn for years.

And me?

I was the guest in my own house.

He glanced over at me then, brushing wet hair out of his face, his smile widening.

“Come in!” he called out, gesturing for me to join them in the water.

I shook my head quickly.

He knew I was terrified of deep water. I’d told him about the time I nearly drowned as a kid, how the panic had never left me. The most I ever did around pools was dip my feet in. Sometimes my knees, if I felt particularly brave.

He knew that.

Still, he insisted. “Come on, babe! Just for a little. It’s not even cold.”

“I’m fine here,” I called back with a smile that I hoped didn’t look forced.

But he kept urging. And urging. And urging. And the more he insisted, the more embarrassed I felt—especially when his friends turned to look at me with encouraging grins, as though my fear was something cute or silly.

It wasn’t cute.

I was trying not to hyperventilate at the idea.

Eventually his playful smile twisted into something else.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, half laughing.

And before I could react, or even fully stand up, he waded out of the pool, water dripping off him in sheets, and strode toward me.

“No… hey, stop, I’m serious,” I protested, bracing myself against the arm of the chair as he reached for me.

He didn’t listen.

He never listened when it came to this.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” he grinned.

I grabbed the chair, digging my nails into the cushion.

“I mean it… please—don’t.”

But he laughed, hooked his arms around my waist, and hauled me up while I kicked and screamed and tried to curl away from him.

His friends cheered.

God. Please don’t do this, Noah.

My stomach twisted, heat rushing to my face because boo hoo, humiliation had a temperature of its own.

“Stop! Seriously, I’ll cry…. stop!”

“You’re fine.”

His wet arms tightened around me.

“Please,” I whispered, voice cracking.

But he didn’t hear it.

Or maybe he didn’t care to.

All I knew was that the moment my foot slipped off the last pool tile and the smell of chlorine filled my nose, my body locked up.

I couldn’t breathe and panic surged through me, my mind shrieking even though my mouth couldn’t make a single sound.

I tried to claw my way upward but the world twisted around me until up and down blurred together and every direction felt like drowning.

Please, someone save me!

And in that cruel moment of plea, I felt my lungs give that horrible and terrifying final warning—BREATH or DIE—and In panic, I inhaled water.

: Oh My Fucking God

Then, through the warped blur of water, a strong arms wrapped around my middle, and dragged me upward. My head broke the surface with a violent gasp that tore through my chest.

I coughed, choking up water as he hauled me toward the edge.

“Whoa! Damn… she really went under!”

“I didn’t think she’d panic that hard—”

“Is she okay?”

Their voices came in fragments, floating above me as he propped me up on the pool ledge. My throat burned and my hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t even grip the tile at first.

And then…

Laughter.

Actual fucking laughter.

I turned, water streaming down my face, vision blurring with tears and chlorine.

He was laughing.

They all were.

“Oh my God,” one of the girls giggled, covering her mouth like she was trying to hide it but failing miserably. “You really freaked out.”

“She looked like someone threw a cat in the pool,” one of his guy friends added, sending another wave of laughter through the group.

Ha. What a bunch of lunatic’s.

They were insane.

They had to be.

I stared at him—my boyfriend—waiting for him to look horrified, apologetic, SOMETHING. But he was still grinning with them like a fool, like the whole thing was nothing more than a hilarious accident.

“Are you fucking crazy?” I yelled, my voice breaking from inhaling water. “What is wrong with you?! I told you—I told you not to do that!”

The smile slid off his face, replaced by surprise… then irritation.

“Oh, come on,” he said, water dripping off his chin. “It was supposed to be fun. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” I choked out, clutching my chest as another cough racked through me. “I almost drowned!”

“You weren’t going to drown,” he scoffed. “I was right next to you. Calm down.”

“Yeah, Thea,” one of the girls chimed in, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. “It was just a joke.”

“Take it easy,” another guy added, raising his drink. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Seriously,” the girl from earlier said, eyebrows raised in disbelief, “you’re ruining the mood.”

Ruining the mood.

Ruing the goddamn mood??!

My mouth hung open as I stared at them.

At him.

At all the faces staring back at me like I was the problem. Like my fear was an inconvenience. Like my panic attack was bad fucking manners.

“I told you I was scared,” I whispered, voice trembling from something that wasn’t the cold anymore. “I begged you to stop.”

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You always make everything such a big deal.”

Was he actually listening to himself right now?

I shook my head and stood up.

I won’t stand another second of their dismissive eyes, their judgment, and disgusting laughter.

With shaky legs, soaked clothes clinging to my body, and hair dripping down my back, I started to walk away.

“Thea… wait,” he called out behind me.

But I didn’t.

I didn’t look back and I sure as hell didn’t slow down.

Someone else called after me too—maybe one of the girls, maybe one of the guys.

“THEA!”

But their voices only made my throat tighten even harder.

I headed toward the house, my wet sandals slapping loudly against the pavement, water trailing behind me like a path of humiliation leading straight through the backyard doors.

The coolness of the house hit my skin instantly, sending chills through me. I kept walking, past the kitchen, past the living room, heading straight for the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

I just needed a moment to fucking breath.

A place to drown quietly in my own embarrassment without an audience.

But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, my soaked clothes dripped water on the tile…

And my foot slid.

It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to brace myself. My leg shot forward and the floor rushed up to meet me. The impact knocked the wind out of me, pain shooting through my elbow and hip as I smacked against the cold ceramic tile.

I lay there.

Stilled, as everything came rushing in.

The first sob that came tore out of me so violently it surprised even me.

Then another.

And another.

Soon I was shaking, curled on the cold tile floor with water pooling under me, mixing with tears as everything scattered inside me.

I pressed my forehead against my arm and let myself cry because there was nothing left in me to hold it back. I cried for the fear I felt underwater. I cried for the way he laughed. I cried for how small I felt, how foolish, how invisible. I cried because the one person who was supposed to protect me had shoved me right into the thing I feared most.

And I cried because, deep down, I knew something in our relationship had shifted today.

Maybe forever.

I didn’t know how long I lay there on the floor, trembling, my hair clinging to my cheeks, wondering how pathetic I must look—and how nothing could possibly make me feel any more pathetic than I already did.

Until I heard the front door creak open.

My head shot up instinctively.

And I froze immediately.

Standing in the entryway, framed by the afternoon sunlight spilling in behind him, was Mr. Gage… Noah’s father. Still in his suit from work. One hand holding a sleek leather suitcase while the other was tucked into his pocket.

My heart dropped.

“Oh my fucking God,” I whispered to myself before I could stop it.

: I Rose Onto My Toes…

Embarrassment surged up inside me so badly it almost made me nauseous. Being laughed at by Noah and his friends had hurt… cut me open in all the ways humiliation knows how to, but somehow this was worse.

Way fucking worse than it should have been.

When Mr. Gage’s eyes landed on me, their usual calm narrowed slightly, just enough to show surprise… then confusion that made me want to disappear.

“Mr. Gage,” I breathed out, voice barely audible, shaky, more fragile than I wanted it to be.

Why did he have to see me like this?

The fuck!

He didn’t reply to me and stepped forward, his shoes clicking softly on the tile as he entered the hall.

When he was close enough he let out a controlled sigh and tilt of his head. “You’re dripping water on my floors, Thea.”

The words hit harder than they should have.

Simple. Blunt. CRUEL.

But laced with the very thing I feared most: inconvenience.

I blinked slowly, staring up at him, numb for a moment because my emotions were fighting for space.

Then his remark finally clicked in my mind, cutting through the fog.

“Oh…” I swallowed, scrambling mentally. “I’m so sorry.”

I pushed myself up, legs wobbling, almost slipping again as the wet tile shifted under my foot. I caught myself just in time, but not gracefully—more like a newborn deer trying its hardest not to collapse again.

“I…I’ll clean it up,” I rushed out, desperate to restore even a shred of dignity. To fix it. To not be a burden atleast. “I’m really sorry, I’ll take care of it right now—”

I turned, already trying to hurry away, mind spinning with panic, but before I could take a full step, his hand shot out and wrapped firmly around my wrist.

I froze, breath catching in my throat as I looked back at him.

“Don’t,” he said quietly.

My brows knitted. “I… don’t understand—”

“Just call the housekeeper,” he replied, voice low but steady. “You’ll hurt yourself if you try to clean in that condition.”

That condition.

I followed his gaze as it flicked downward, at my soaked shirt clinging to my body, the tremor in my hands, the redness around my eyes, the way my breath was uneven, chest still rising and falling too quickly.

I must have looked more wrecked than I realized.

And the realization made my eyes burn again.

“I’m really sorry,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I…I didn’t mean to make a mess. I didn’t mean to…”

“To what?” he asked quietly.

My lips parted, but no sound came out. I didn’t know how to answer.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze still fixed on me.

“You’re shaking,” he said, and there was no judgment in his tone this time. Only something that sounded dangerously close to concern.

I shook my head quickly, trying to step back, but he didn’t let go of my wrist, as if he was keeping me from slipping again.

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“You’re not.”

The finality in his voice made my throat tighten. My tears stung again, threatening to spill over.

“I’ll… I’ll just go to my room,” I murmured, pulling gently against his hold.

His hand didn’t leave my wrist.

If anything, his grip tightened like he wasn’t willing to let me walk away just yet. His suitcase slipped from his other hand and hit the floor with a soft, heavy thud. The sound echoed faintly through the hall.

Before I could process what was happening, that now-free hand lifted… and gently tilted my chin up.

“What has my stupid son done this time?” he asked, voice low with just the slightest undercurrent of frustration.

The warmth from his hand spread down my neck in a way I didn’t expect. Maybe it was because I was drenched and cold… or maybe it was the way he said My Stupid Son like he was already piecing things together without needing me to confirm it.

“N–Nothing,” I finally stammered. “It’s… really nothing.”

His brow lifted slightly.

I wanted to say something but I wasn’t in a position to complain, so I simply just shook my head.

“So you’re telling me,” he let out slowly, “that nothing happened… yet you’re soaked, shaking, and hiding in the hallway instead of being outside with the others?” He paused, letting the silence stretch before adding. “Instead of being with my son.”

I swallowed hard.

“I just… needed a break from the sun.”

“The sun.” His voice held a hint of dry amusement. “You don’t have to cover for him.”

My breath hitched.

Then he added, almost offhandedly, “That boy’s been cycling through girls since he was sixteen. This isn’t the first time one of them has ended up crying in my house.”

My face fell before I could stop it, and my free hand curled into a fist at my side.

“I see,” I murmured.

His hand under my chin tilted ever so slightly, enough to force my gaze up toward him.

“Does mentioning my son’s past upset you?”

“Upset me?” I let out a short scoff before I could stop myself. “No. Not at all. I just… I know everyone has a past. Noah is no different.”

His eyes narrowed just a fraction, as if he could hear the lie twisting through my tone.

I tried to recover, adding quickly, “Even you, Mr. Gage.”

But as soon as the words left my mouth, mortification flooded me.

“I— Wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

For a heartbeat he went still, thumb frozen against my bottom lip.

Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved.

His hand left my chin, sliding away only to shove deep into the pocket of his slacks, the motion pulling the fabric tight across his hips. But he still didn’t release my wrist. His grip tightened, thumb pressing over the frantic beat of my pulse.

“That’s true,” he murmured. “I’ve had my share.”

I lifted my gaze to meet his… but instantly regretted it—or maybe not regretted exactly if I were being honest, but I felt the hit of something sharp and hot in my stomach.

His gaze wasn’t on my face anymore.

It went lower.

Tracing the soaked cloth clinging to my chest, the way it had gone nearly transparent, outlining every curve and shiver. My nipples tightened traitorously under the weight of his stare, and there was no hiding it—not when my cloth were plastered to me like that.

“Mr. Gage?” I called, my cheeks burning so hard it felt like the heat might steam off me.

When his eyes flicked back to mine, the hunger in them was blatant that it stole whatever was left of my common sense.

I took a step forward.

One single step, closing the space until the damp fabric of my shirt brushed the crisp front of his. Until I could smell his cologne. Until I could feel the heat coming off him like a furnace against my chilled body.

His pupils swallowed the gray, his breath ghosting over my lips as he stared at me with a gaze no father should ever have while looking at his son’s girlfriend.

Another inch and we’d be kissing.

Another inch and I’d know exactly how that stubble would feel scraping my throat, my breasts, the inside of my thighs.

Another inch and there would be no pretending this was anything innocent.

I rose onto my toes…