Sorry, I wouldn't write any hot moments but I promise to write some.! Love y'all.....
The next morning...
Light.
Too bright.
Skylar frowned before his eyes even fully opened.
His head felt heavy—like it had been filled with sand overnight. Every sound was distant, every breath slightly delayed, like his body didn't fully belong to him yet.
He shifted slightly.
Wrong.
Everything felt… wrong.
Silk sheets. Soft mattress. A room that smelled expensive and unfamiliar.
Skylar's eyes snapped open.
He froze.
This was not his room.
Silence pressed down on him immediately.
White curtains moved slightly with the morning wind. Sunlight spilt across polished floors. Everything looked too clean, too perfect, too far from the chaos in his memory.
His heart started beating faster.
"No…" he whispered.
He sat up too quickly—and instantly regretted it as his head throbbed painfully.
His clothes were not where they should have been.
His hands trembled.
"Please don't tell me—"
He stopped himself.
Because memory didn't come back gently.
It hit him all at once.
The bar.
The drinking.
The man.
The voice.
The way everything had blurred into something he couldn't fully piece together… but his body remembered more than his mind wanted to.
Skylar's breath hitched.
"No… no, no, no…"
The door opened.
Skylar flinched violently.
He turned—
And froze again.
Alexander Smith stood there.
Perfectly dressed. Calm posture. Expression unreadable.
As if nothing unusual had happened at all.
As if Skylar wasn't sitting there trying to understand how his life had just collapsed into something new and terrifying.
"Good morning," Alexander said.
Calm.
Almost too calm.
Skylar stared at him like he was trying to make sense of a nightmare that refused to end.
"What… what is this?" Skylar's voice cracked. "Where am I?"
Alexander stepped inside the room slowly.
Not rush.
Like he had all the time in the world.
"Somewhere safe," he replied.
"That's not an answer!" Skylar snapped, panic rising in his chest.
He swung his legs off the bed, standing too fast again but regretted it because of the sharp pain shot through his body. There were hickey from last night around his neck, chest and he can still feel Alexander's hot lips on his skin
The room tilted slightly.
Alexander watched him carefully—but didn't move to help.
That bothered Skylar more than anything.
"Do you remember anything?" Alexander asked quietly.
Skylar froze.
That question was worse than an accusation.
His silence was answer enough.
Alexander exhaled slightly, almost like he already knew.
"Then I'll make it simple," he said.
Skylar's stomach tightened.
"What did you do to me?" Skylar asked, voice shaking.
Alexander paused.
Just for a second.
Then—
"I didn't do anything you didn't allow," he said calmly.
The words hit harder than Skylar expected.
Because they weren't warm.
They weren't cruel.
They were simply… factual.
And that made them worse.
Skylar stepped back.
"You're lying."
Alexander didn't react.
Not angry.
Just observant.
"You were drunk," he said. "You followed me. You spoke first. You made a choice."
Skylar shook his head.
"No… I wouldn't— I don't even know you."
A beat of silence.
Then Alexander's gaze darkened slightly.
"You knew enough last night."
That made Skylar go still.
The room felt smaller suddenly.
He couldn't remember everything clearly—but he remembered enough fragments.
A bar.
A voice.
A presence that didn't feel like a stranger anymore.
And now…
This man was standing in front of him like he already had ownership of the situation.
Skylar swallowed hard.
"I want to leave."
Alexander studied him for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
"Eat first."
Skylar blinked.
"What?"
"You're shaking," Alexander said simply. "You're not leaving like that."
It wasn't a concern.
It wasn't softness.
It was control.
And Skylar hated how steady it made him feel for half a second.
"I didn't ask for your permission," Skylar said.
Alexander stepped closer—not threatening, just enough to make Skylar aware of the space between them shrinking again.
"You're still in my house," Alexander replied calmly.
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
Skylar's breath shook.
He hated this.
Hated him.
Hated the way his memory refused to fully cooperate.
Hated the way his body felt like it was still trying to recover from something his mind couldn't clearly explain.
Alexander turned slightly toward the door.
"Stay until you're stable," he said.
Then he paused.
Just once.
"…Then decide what you want to believe."
And he left the room.
Skylar stood there alone.
Heart racing.
Confused.
Angry.
And slowly—terrified by one simple truth.