Chapter 134

Angela POV

I stared at Sean, my heart thudding against my ribcage as he stood there, his broad shoulders filling the narrow doorway of the private jet's lavatory.

The air felt thick, suffocating in the confined space, and the faint hum of the plane's engines underscored the tension between us.

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes flickering over me with that infuriating mix of amusement and intensity.

"You've been in here forever. I thought something might be wrong."

"I'm fine," I snapped, gesturing toward the door behind him. "Now get out."

Instead of leaving, Sean stepped fully inside, pulling the lavatory door shut with a soft click that echoed like a gunshot in my ears.

My stomach lurched with a sudden, uneasy premonition. The space was already small, but with him in it, it felt impossibly tighter-his presence overwhelming, inescapable.

"Sean," I said, my tone low and warning, "if you dare-"

He cut me off, his lips curving into a smirk as he tugged at the collar of his shirt. "You got my shirt wet too, you know. Fair's fair-I need to change."

I blinked, momentarily thrown by his casual deflection.

"Fine," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the heat creeping up my neck. "I'll finish changing and get out. Then you can have the damn room to yourself."

I turned away from him, focusing on the buttons of my blouse.

My fingers trembled slightly as I worked them up, one by one, all the way to the topmost button at my throat. The crisp fabric felt like armor, a thin shield against the chaos of emotions swirling inside me.

I just needed to get out of here, away from him, before I lost control of the situation entirely.

But as I moved to slip past him toward the door, his hand shot out, catching my arm. In one swift motion, he pulled me back, my body stumbling slightly against his. The warmth of his chest pressed against my shoulder, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

"Sean, let go," I hissed, trying to wrench my arm free.

Instead, he turned me to face him, his hands sliding to my waist as he drew me closer.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable, and before I could protest further, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above mine.

"Stop it!" I snapped, shoving at his chest. "You're disgusting."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and dangerous.

"Keep your voice down, Angela. Thomas is right outside."

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words died as his hand slipped lower. My pulse raced, a mix of fury and something I refused to name surging through me.

Then, with a boldness that stole my breath, his fingers dipped beneath the fabric, sliding into my panties.

"Sean-" I started, but he cut me off again, his voice dropping to a rough whisper.

"You're wet down here too," he murmured, his fingers grazing my skin with deliberate slowness.

My body betrayed me, a shiver running down my spine as heat pooled where his touch lingered.

I hated him for it-hated myself more for the way my breath hitched, for the way my thighs clenched involuntarily.

His fingers moved with a maddening confidence, tracing the slickness between my legs, parting me gently as if he still knew every inch of me by heart. The sensation was electric, overwhelming, and I bit my lip hard to keep from making a sound.

"Get your hands off me," I managed, my voice shaking with rage and something else I couldn't suppress.

But he didn't stop.

His other arm tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him as his fingers pressed deeper, curling inside me with a precision that made my knees weak. I could feel the hard length of him against my hip, straining through his trousers, and the realization sent a fresh wave of heat through me despite my protests.

His thumb found my clit, circling it with slow, torturous strokes, and I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders-not to push him away, but to steady myself as my body trembled.

"Sean, stop," I whispered, but it sounded weak, unconvincing even to my own ears.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing my ear. "You don't mean that," he said, his voice thick with certainty. "I can feel how much you want this."

The tiny lavatory seemed to shrink further, the walls closing in as our ragged breathing filled the space.

His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I stifled a moan, my nails digging into his arms.

It was wrong-so wrong.

Five years apart, five years of rebuilding myself, and here I was, unraveling under his hands in the cramped bathroom of his private jet.

My mind screamed at me to fight, to resist, but my body was locked in a battle it was losing fast. His fingers pumped faster now, slick with my arousal, and I felt the pressure building, coiling tight in my core.

"Sean, please-" I choked out, not even sure what I was begging for anymore.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes blazing with a hunger that mirrored the storm inside me. Then his lips crashed against mine, hard and demanding, swallowing my protests as his hand worked me toward the edge.

My hips bucked against him, chasing the release I didn't want to admit I craved, and when it hit, it was shattering-wave after wave of pleasure that left me gasping against his mouth, my legs trembling beneath me.

And then reality slammed back into me like a freight train.

I shoved him off me with all the strength I could muster, my hand flying up to crack across his face.

The slap echoed in the tiny space, sharp and final, and Sean's head snapped to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek.

"I'm here to mourn Elizabeth," I spat, my voice raw with fury and shame. "Not to fuck you in a goddamn bathroom! If you had even an ounce of respect for her-or for me-you wouldn't have forced this!"

He touched his cheek, his expression unreadable for a moment before it hardened. "Forced?" he said, his tone low and edged with something dangerous. "You didn't exactly fight me off, Angela."

"Get out," I snarled, pointing at the door. "Now."

For a long moment, he didn't move, his eyes searching mine as if looking for something I refused to give.

Then, with a curt nod, he turned and opened the door, stepping out into the cabin without another word. The latch clicked shut behind him, and I sank against the wall, my legs giving out as I slid to the floor.

My hands shook as I pressed them to my face, the taste of him still on my lips, the feel of him still lingering on my skin. I hated him. I hated myself more.

This wasn't supposed to happen-not here, not now, not ever again. I was here for Elizabeth, to honor her memory, not to fall back into the tangled mess of Sean's orbit.