Chapter 37: Hidden Desires
"I need to use the bathroom," Margaret Monroe said softly as she slipped off the bed. She slid her feet into her slippers and padded through the darkened room toward the boy lying there.
"Aren't you going to turn on a light?" Julian asked, his eyes still closed as he held onto his relaxed sleeping posture.
"No need," she replied. "I can see well enough in the dark."
The truth was far more tangled. She didn't want Julian to catch a clear glimpse of her face right now. She could feel the forbidden hunger etched across her features, the boy's clean scent hanging heavy in the air around them, pulling at the ugly impulses rising relentlessly inside her like a tide she could barely hold back.
She reached the doorway, fingers brushing the cool metal of the knob, but she didn't turn it. Several long seconds passed before she pivoted back, standing beside the bed and looking down at him. Her gaze traced the lines of his face in the shadows.
The sound of the door opening never came. Curious, Julian cracked his eyes open and found Margaret perched on the edge of the mattress, staring directly at him. In the low light, her strikingly beautiful face remained half-veiled in mystery.
"What's wrong? I thought you were heading to the bathroom?"
She didn't answer right away. Instead, her hand extended, fingertips gently caressing his cheek. In those lovely eyes of hers, she registered the flicker of confusion and sudden unease in his expression. A bold thought seized her—she didn't want to play the timid girl anymore. What would happen if she simply took him right here? A boy as compliant as Julian would surely react in the most fascinating ways.
His smooth cheek pressed obediently against her palm. In the enveloping darkness, she leaned in closer, inch by inch. Reason and raw impulse warred fiercely within her chest as their faces drew dangerously near, noses nearly brushing.
She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. He resembled a small creature fallen into a snare—lost, helpless, yet strangely unresisting, as if he had willingly surrendered to some enchanting dream.
Margaret licked her suddenly dry lips. Then, with a swift motion, she gently pinched his cheeks, her voice dropping into a sultry, inviting whisper laced with a seductive smile. "We're even now. Can I claim a little advance on the next time? You could pinch somewhere else instead..."
"Stop teasing," he murmured. "It's getting really late. Just get some sleep. Weren't you going to the bathroom?"
"Hmph. Fine, I'm going then."
Margaret puffed her cheeks out in clear dissatisfaction at his gentle rejection, the pout giving her an unexpectedly adorable edge even in her frustration.
She made her way to the bathroom, sliding the glass door closed behind her and locking it with a soft click. Leaning back against the wall, she sank slowly to the floor. The insistent ache and tingling heat between her thighs refused to be ignored any longer. Memories of the sweetness from just moments ago flooded her—the pure, sunlit scent that was so uniquely Julian's. It wrapped around her senses like being submerged in a thick, intoxicating perfume, sweet and heady.
A soft, involuntary sound escaped her parted lips. "Mmm..."
Her delicate skin flushed hot as if fevered. Pressed against the icy wall, Margaret felt her thoughts dissolving into a hazy fog, her eyes glazing over with a languid, sensual haze.
Pale moonlight filtered through the window, illuminating her form and throwing a graceful, sinuous shadow across the wall. Her long hair had come loose and messy, a few damp strands clinging to her flushed cheeks. A deep crimson blush had spread across her entire exquisite face.
The viscous darkness cloaked half her body like a heavy blanket. In the profound silence, every subtle sound stood out sharply—her own ragged breathing, the faint rustle of fabric. She heard her voice whispering back to her, light and eerily alluring.
"Julian... Julian..."
She breathed his name like a prayer and a curse, his clean, handsome image dancing behind her closed eyelids. He was so obedient, so rarely refusing her. The smallest brush of contact—intentional or not—could make him blush, igniting her overwhelming need to own him completely, to keep him all for herself.
The wild pleasure crested violently and then ebbed, leaving her spent. Margaret sat motionless for a long while, leaning against the cold tiles with her head bowed, concealing her disheveled state. Only when the heat in her body began to fade and clarity slowly returned to her mind did she finally move.
She rose and crossed to the window, cracking it open. The night air after the rain carried an indescribable, earthy freshness mixed with something deeper. The cold draft found its way in, cooling her overheated skin until the flush receded to a pale chill. She waited until the last traces of raw hunger had drained from her eyes before returning to the bedroom, slipping seamlessly back into the image of the quiet, elegant Margaret everyone knew.
Julian had already drifted off again. His previously curled legs had relaxed, his breathing even and fragile in sleep.
A reckless impulse struck her. She would gamble—who would wake first in the morning? Would Julian believe whatever excuse she offered? Before she could second-guess it, she had already lain down facing him, his youthful, innocent sleeping face mere inches away.
"Julian? Julian?" she whispered softly, testing. When he remained deeply asleep, she carefully wrapped her arms around him, gently pressing his head into the curve of her neck. His warm breath ghosted across her collarbone, sending fresh shivers through her.
She was tall for a girl, but still smaller than him. She couldn't risk any sudden movements that might rouse him, so the embrace took careful effort, her body straining slightly to hold him closer.
Suppressing the frantic hammering of her heart, she hugged him tighter, letting every inch of herself absorb the presence of the boy she adored beyond reason.
It would be perfect to simply drown here while holding him like this, Margaret thought darkly. To claim him entirely, to melt together and disappear into the endless night as one being. She found herself strangely at peace with that imagined end.
But how could she be so selfish? Julian trusted her completely. He liked her—maybe even loved her in his quiet way. And yet the vicious part of her mind fantasized about dragging him down into the abyss purely for her own satisfaction, locking him away at the bottom where no one else could ever reach.
"I'm sorry, Julian," she thought, the words silent. "I shouldn't think like this. But you can't like anyone else. You're mine. If you ever dare betray me... I'll devour you whole."
Thankfully, Margaret stirred earlier than Julian the next morning. There was something deeply satisfying about waking first and seeing his peaceful sleeping face bathed in the soft winter light. She found herself longing for a future where they could share a bed openly, without the need for these stolen, secretive moments.
Still, a small regret lingered—she wouldn't get to witness his initial panic and flustered reaction if he had woken first. Margaret realized with a quiet thrill that she had come to enjoy the dangerous excitement of nearly getting caught in these hidden sins. After all, since he already liked her, she felt untouchable.
Part of her sometimes toyed with the idea of confessing everything first. It would let her demand what she wanted openly, perhaps even savor something so sweet it reached her very core.
But reason always intervened at the critical moment. His affection for her needed to burn so fiercely that he would shatter every restraint holding him back and come to her on his own, declaring his love without hesitation. Anything less, and she wouldn't feel truly satisfied or secure.
The gentle morning light gradually spread across Julian's features. One final bold impulse rose within her. Margaret leaned down, her soft pink lips brushing lightly against his in a fleeting kiss.
When Julian finally woke, he was alone in the room. The heavy drowsiness of winter mornings tugged at him, tempting him to sink back into sleep for a few more minutes. But he couldn't let their guest see him looking messy—especially not Margaret, the girl he liked so much.
He pushed himself up and left the bedroom. On the dining table sat a steaming bowl of oatmeal alongside a few warm sausage biscuits. Margaret was seated at the small table by the window, gazing absently at the swirling leaves falling outside.
"You're awake," she said, turning toward him with a smile that appeared perfectly natural and innocent. "I was just about to come get you. Come eat while it's still hot. Breakfast doesn't taste the same once it cools down."
"Thanks," he replied, a touch sheepish. "As the host, I feel pretty useless having a guest take care of everything for me."
"Don't worry about it," she said lightly. "I really don't mind at all."
"Yeah... okay."
Julian settled down to eat. Margaret turned back to the window, continuing to watch the desolate winter landscape. The heavy rain from the night before had left scattered puddles of murky water across the ground, but the sky above had been scrubbed clean to a brilliant, crystalline blue.
She discreetly pulled out her phone and scrolled through a private hidden album. There were the photos of Julian's peaceful sleeping face from last night, along with the captured moment of her lips meeting his while he remained lost in sleep. A small, satisfied smile curved her lips as she lingered on the images.