Dark Heart, Gentle Hands Chapter 12: Did I just cheat?

Enzo’s POV

My legs felt like jelly, a trembling weakness spreading through them until they gave out beneath . I collapsed onto the floor like a sack of potatoes, my breath coming in short, shallow bursts. My mind reeled, the events of the past few minutes playing on an endless loop.

"What just happened?" I whispered to no one in particular, though the silence around held no answers. My own voice felt distant, as if it belonged to soone else entirely.

Panic clawed at my chest, each frantic thought louder than the last. "Does this an I’ve cheated on Doc Olivier?" My stomach churned at the very idea. "What am I going to do? How am I going to face him after this?" I shook my head as if to physically rid myself of the confusion. "It wasn’t my fault—it was the stranger."

A cold shudder ran down my spine. I had no control over what happened. That man had co out of nowhere, invading my space, my body, my very breath. I couldn’t let this ruin what Olivier and I were building. Our relationship had just begun, fragile yet promising, and I couldn’t risk losing it over sothing I didn’t initiate.

I needed to take action. First, I would check the locks on my door. Then, I’d make sure my windows were secure. Maybe I’d even talk to my landlord—if that man was a tenant here, I needed to know. That would make things easier... or worse.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I forced my legs to carry to the bathroom. The feeling of dampness between my legs made my stomach tighten. "Great," I muttered. "Another shower."

I stripped off my clothes with tired, unsteady fingers, tossing them into the laundry basket without a second thought. The hot water cascaded over , washing away the evidence of what had transpired, but not the mory. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I could still feel the phantom pressure of his hands, the way his lips had moved against mine with a dangerous kind of ownership.

I turned off the water and stepped out, reaching for a towel. There was no energy left in for the usual nightti routine. No lotion, no extra steps—just sleep. I had an early shift tomorrow, and if I didn’t get so rest, I’d be a wreck.

Slipping into a fresh set of pajamas, I tossed the soiled ones into the laundry basket and collapsed into bed. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself into unconsciousness. But sleep refused to co.

The night played out behind my closed lids like a twisted movie reel. His hands—massive, strong. His lips—hot and possessive. The way he had stroked as if he had every right to... My breath hitched. My heart pounded. It was all amazing.

"What the fuck am I saying?" My eyes shot open, staring at the ceiling in horror. "I’m out of my mind. How can I find what he did to amazing?"

I needed help.

---

Morning arrived without rcy. My body ached with exhaustion, my mind even more so. No sleep, just endless replaying of what had happened.

I forced myself out of bed, rubbing my tired eyes before heading to the bathroom for another long shower. The water felt good against my skin, but it did nothing to cleanse the guilt—or the lingering sensation of his touch.

After drying off, I tossed my dirty clothes into the laundry machine and applied lotion with slow, robotic movents. The mirror caught my eye, and I frowned, stepping closer.

My lips. Swollen.

"Fuck."

Doc Olivier would notice. What would I say? That an ant bit ? That I had no idea how it happened?

I groaned and buried my face in my palms. My reflection mocked . Lying to Olivier wasn’t what I wanted to do, but what choice did I have?

With a sigh, I got dressed in my work uniform, combed my hair, and styled it with gel. I moved through my apartnt sluggishly, heading toward the kitchen with an odd expectation settling in my chest.

Would he have made breakfast for ?

The thought made freeze. Why did I think that? Why did I feel the smallest pang of disappointnt when I saw the empty counter? It wasn’t like I would have eaten anything he made. It wasn’t like I... enjoyed the attention.

Shaking the thoughts away, I moved to the coffee machine, pouring myself a much-needed cup. Sleep deprivation and emotional turmoil weren’t a good mix.

The sound of the doorbell yanked out of my spiraling thoughts.

I frowned. Who could be visiting so early?

With hesitation, I opened the door, and my breath hitched.

Doc Olivier stood there, looking as handso as ever. His warm brown eyes studied , his lips curved in a soft smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

My face heated instantly.

"Good morning, Doc Olivier," I replied, flustered. I probably looked like a tomato.

"Can I co in?"

Fuck .

"Yes, please. I’m sorry." I stepped aside, allowing him in.

He turned to face , his expression filled with sothing deeper. "I thought, since you’re my boyfriend now, it’s my duty to pick you up and drop you off every day."

My heart skipped a beat. I barely had ti to process before he took a step closer, invading my space. His fingers brushed my lips, tracing the swollen skin.

"Enzo..." he murmured, his eyes dark with concern.

"Yes, Doc?" My voice barely above a whisper. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t. I craved his touch.

"Why are your lips swollen?" His fingers dropped to his side, his gaze locked onto mine.

I swallowed thickly. "I don’t know. I woke up with it this way."

A lie. A necessary one. If I told him the truth, he’d never believe . He’d think I cheated, and I hadn’t—not willingly.

He humd thoughtfully. "Maybe I kissed you too hard yesterday."

I forced a smile. "Maybe."

His thumb returned to my lips, tracing the curve before trailing down to my neck. And then, he kissed .

It was sweet, affectionate. But...

It wasn’t the sa.

My breath hitched. My stomach twisted. Why was I comparing his kiss to the stranger’s?

Guilt slamd into .

Olivier pulled back, his brows furrowed. "Enzo, where are your thoughts? Your body is here, but your mind is sowhere else."

Panic flickered across my face before I masked it with a smile. I reached up, smoothing the crease between his brows with my thumb before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I’m sorry. It’s nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure at all.

His hands found my waist, pulling close. "If you keep looking at like that, we might not make it to work."

I laughed, shoving his chest playfully. "Oh shit—my coffee!"

Rushing to the kitchen, I poured two cups and handed him one.

"Thank you." He took a sip, his eyes lingering on .

I swallowed hard.

How long could I keep this secret?