Silent Hearts

Chapter 15

{Song of the Chapter: The Hills - The Weeknd}

I shouldn't have come up here.

The second I saw her bolt up the stairs, it was weird and I needed to check up on her. And now I'm standing here, staring at Isla, her cheeks flushed, breath ragged, and the image of her whispering my name etched into my mind.

She was thinking about me. Not Jake. Not anyone else. Me.

I take another step into her room, my heart pounding in my chest. The way she's looking at me—wide-eyed, like she's been caught—only makes the heat between us even more unbearable. I can feel it, thick and heavy, swirling in the air like it's about to swallow us whole.

Her lips part, and I can see the words trying to form, but nothing comes out. She's still clutching the blanket to her chest, her body tense, like she's bracing for me to say something. Do something. But I can't think straight. All I can hear is the sound of my name on her lips, soft and breathless. Moaning my name.

Fuck.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to get a grip on myself, but the image of her—under the covers, touching herself while thinking about me—is burned into my brain. My throat goes dry, and I clench my fists at my sides, willing myself to stay calm, to keep my distance. But it's not working. Every instinct in me is screaming to close the space between us, to pull her into my arms and pick up right where her fantasy left off.

"Isla..." I rasp, the sound rougher, more guttural than I intended. Her eyes widen, darting away for just a heartbeat, but she stays rooted, waiting.

Fuck. This isn't how it's supposed to be. She's my best friend. I'm not supposed to be standing here, watching her, wanting her like this. I shouldn't have come upstairs. I should have given her space, but now that I know... now that I've seen it—seen her—there's no going back.

"Did you say my name?" My voice dips lower, heat lacing each word. It's not just a question. It's a demand.

She bites her lip, gaze sliding away, but the truth is written in every line of her body. She's not denying it. And God, I don't want her to. I want her to say it again, moan it, scream it. I want her to need me as badly as I need her.

Her lips tremble as she shifts on the bed, and I take another step forward, the tension between us growing sharper, heavier with every second. I can barely think, barely breathe. The way she looks at me, her cheeks still flushed, her breath uneven... I know I should leave. I know I should turn around, walk out of here, and pretend this never happened. But the look on her face? The way her body responds to me?

I can't fucking walk away. Not now.

She opens her mouth like she's going to speak, but instead, her breath hitches, and I see it—just for a second—the way her eyes flicker to my chest, lingering on the water still clinging to my skin. The heat in her gaze sends a jolt of electricity through me, and it takes everything I have not to close the distance between us, to not rip that blanket away and see her. All of her.

I grit my teeth, my hands curling into fists.

"Isla... if you don't want this, tell me to leave." My voice is barely a whisper, but it's the only control I have left. "Tell me to walk out of here, and I will."

I can feel my pulse hammering in my throat, every muscle in my body tight, waiting for her to say something. Anything. But the longer the silence stretches, the harder it gets to hold back.

She doesn't tell me to leave.

Instead, she looks up at me, her eyes dark, her lips slightly parted. Her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, and I can see the way her hands tremble as she grips the blanket tighter.

The room feels like it's spinning, the tension crackling between us like a live wire. I take another step toward her, the air thick with the weight of everything unsaid. I can barely think straight, my body responding to hers in a way I've never felt before.

She doesn't stop me.

I step forward, my hands finding the bed on either side of her, caging her in.

"I've waited so damn long for you to look at me like that," I murmur, my lips just a breath away from hers. "So if you don't tell me to stop, Luna, I won't. I won't stop until you're mine."

She doesn't push me away. Her hand, tentative and trembling, finds my chest, her touch searing through the thin fabric. That's all it takes for the last thread of control to snap.

In a heartbeat, I'm on the bed, my body pressed to hers, our faces so close the world around us blurs.

"You have no idea how many nights I've thought about this," I breathe, my thumb tracing her jaw. "Every. Damn. Night."

Her eyes search mine, and for once, I let her see everything—the raw, unfiltered hunger, the ache I've buried for far too long.

"Say my name again, Isla," I challenge, lips ghosting over hers. "And I swear, I'll make you feel things no one else ever has."

The thought strikes me like a lightning bolt: I'll make her feel better than Jake ever did. I doubt he ever worshiped her the way she deserved—to be cherished, savored like she's the only thing that matters. The idea that someone else touched her, that he might have left her unsatisfied, unfulfilled, sends a wave of possessive fury through me.

Because tonight, I won't just touch her. I'll show her what it means to be adored, to be wanted so deeply that she never questions it again.

My thumb brushes her bottom lip, my gaze fixed on her face as I whisper, "I'll make sure you forget anyone who came before me."