My Savior 🔞 ( Part One )

Out of control

{ ⚠️ Warning ⚠️ }
This chapter contains mature emotional and sensual content. No explicit sexual activity, but themes of tension and desire. Read with care.

When I thought breaking up with Lorette and her threats were the worst part of my week... well, clearly, I underestimated my own brain.

It wasn't even 3 a.m., and I was still wide awake, tossing and turning under my sheets like a restless ghost. My skin felt too hot, too sensitive, like I was running a fever. But I wasn't sick.

No, my sickness had a name. Miles.

Stupid Miles and his stupid perfect calm voice and that one stupid line.

"If you want me to satisfy your needs..."

Who the hell says that and walks off like it's no big deal?

I growled and pulled the blanket over my head, trying to smother the memory along with my embarrassment. But it only made it worse. I could feel the tension crawling under my skin. The same kind that made my fingers twitch when I remembered how soft his lips felt. Not warm like a real human, no. But not fake either.

Why did it even matter?

I buried my face into the pillow and groaned.

"This is so messed up..."

Nothing had ever felt this confusing. Not even with the girls I'd been with. Those moments had been physical, fleeting, forgettable.

But this? This wasn't physical. Not really. This was mental. And emotional. Which made it ten times worse.

Eventually, I got out of bed. Water. I needed water. Or a cold shower. Or a reset button for my damn brain.

The kitchen was quiet, dimly lit by one sleepy little lamp above the stove. I leaned on the counter, sipping my drink slowly, trying to slow down my racing pulse.

And then, of course, he showed up.

"Will... I thought you were asleep. Is something wrong? Do you want a late-night snack?"

His voice was too calm. Too there. I flinched slightly, not expecting him to speak so suddenly.

"Why are you still dressed?" I asked, more irritated with myself than with him. "It's the middle of the damn night."

"I don't require sleep," he said simply. "I remain active in case you need me."

I nearly spat my water out. Need him?

"Don't flatter yourself," I muttered. "Just... go back to wherever you were hiding."

"I don't have a designated space," he replied. "I usually remain nearby. Your father didn't consider a separate room necessary."

Of course, he didn't.

I hesitated. Not because I cared. But because the idea of him just roaming the mansion like some polite, well-programmed ghost creeped me out more than I wanted to admit.

"...Fine. You can stay in my room. But don't talk. Don't do anything. Just... exist quietly."

He smiled. A little too amused for my liking.

"My, what an honor. And here I thought I had to beg for your company."

I cursed under my breath and walked off, fully aware he was following me with that stupid grin. My heart was thumping again, and not from fear.

Once back in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him.

"Just sit down. Don't say anything weird. Try to act like... I don't know. Furniture."

He obeyed. Quiet. Still. But his eyes followed me with an expression that wasn't robotic. It wasn't anything I could place.

And that was the worst part.

Because a part of me didn't want him to be furniture.

I wanted him to be real.