After Rebirth, I Became My Ex's Aunt-in-Law-Chapter 141: Use Your Words

The massive rainfall showerhead was dumping gallons of scalding water onto the black tiles, creating a deafening, roaring waterfall, but the air between Aria and Damien was somehow even louder.

Damien stood paralyzed. The water cascaded over his face, matting his silver hair to his forehead, but he didn’t wipe his eyes. He just stared at the gorgeous, entirely naked woman standing defiantly in his private sanctuary.

His brain, usually capable of processing complex multinational mergers in seconds, completely short-circuited.

"Aria," Damien finally choked out, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat and forced it into his booming, authoritative CEO register. "What are you doing? Get out."

"No!" Aria shouted back over the crash of the water. She stood her ground, her face flushed a deep, beautiful pink from the heat of the steam and the sheer, glorious sight of his dripping physique. "We are going to talk!"

"There is nothing to talk about in a shower!" Damien bellowed, trying to maintain eye contact. It was a losing battle. His golden eyes flicked down to her wet breasts, lingering on the water tracing the curve of her waist, before violently snapping back up to her face. Two seconds later, they dropped again.

"Stop looking at my tits and look at my face!" Aria yelled, stepping closer. "Why are you avoiding me? Why did you send Ken to brush me off?"

Damien’s jaw clenched. The water was hot—too hot for her soft skin. He noticed the flush on her shoulders deepening into a red burn from the direct hit of the scalding spray.

He gently grabbed her by the upper arms. He hauled her out of the center of the enclosure, swapping their positions. He slammed his own back against the slick tile directly under the heavy waterfall, shielding her from the worst of the heat.

He pinned her in the corner, his large body blocking the spray. They were suddenly mere inches apart, the roar of the water muted by his broad back. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"Are you insane?" Damien hissed, his voice dropping from a shout to a furious, hushed whisper. "You could have burned yourself."

"I don’t care," Aria whispered back fiercely, her chest heaving, brushing against his with every breath.

Damien squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head to stare fixedly at the frosted glass wall next to her. He was trying so hard to look at the shampoo dispenser, the ceiling—anywhere but her. But it was impossible. His gaze kept betraying him, burning a slow, agonizing trail down her naked body, tracking the droplets of water sliding over her collarbones.

Aria, however, had no such reservations.

She was shamelessly, blatantly raking her eyes over him. Her gaze dragged down the sharp, defined V-line disappearing below his waist, her face burning hotter than the steam.

"Tell me," Aria demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and raw want. "What did I do?"

"You didn’t do anything," Damien gritted out, keeping his eyes glued to the tile above her head. "I’m just... busy, Aria. I have a migraine. I’m stressed. I just needed space."

It was a pathetic, evasive excuse, and they both knew it.

"Bullshit," Aria snapped.

She reached out and poked him hard in the center of his bare, rigid chest with her index finger.

"You are driving me fucking crazy," she swore. "You are running away from me, and I want to know why!"

Damien reached up blindly and slammed his hand against the heavy chrome valve.

The water shut off instantly.

The sudden silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of their ragged breathing and the drip-drop of residual water hitting the floor.

Damien grabbed a thick white towel draped over the top of the glass enclosure. He wrapped it frantically around his waist, knotting it with jerky, aggressive movements, desperate to construct some semblance of a barrier between them.

"This conversation is over," Damien said, his voice cold and clipped. "We will talk at home. When we are both dressed."

He turned, intent on pushing past her to escape the glass cage.

Aria moved faster.

She stepped directly into his path. She planted her feet and slapped both of her bare, wet hands flat against the heavy glass door, physically barricading the only exit.

Damien stopped short, his chest an inch from her nose.

"Move, Aria," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

"No," she defied, tilting her chin up to glare right into his golden eyes. "I am not moving. You are acting like a manchild, Damien Sinclair. You can face down powerful business rivals, but you can’t have a five-minute conversation with your wife? You’re a coward."

The word hit him like a physical blow.

’Coward.’

Damien snapped.

He stepped forward, closing the last fraction of an inch between them until their bare skin brushed. Aria gasped, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden, searing contact.

He reached up, his large, wet hand wrapping around her wrist. He peeled her hand off the glass door and dragged it down, pinning her palm flat against his bare chest, right over his heart.

It was beating so fast and so hard it felt like a jackhammer against her skin.

"You want to know why I ran?" Damien ground out, his voice hoarse, stripped of all its armor. "You want to know why I can’t look at you?"

He leaned down, his forehead resting against hers, his golden eyes filled with a vulnerability that was absolutely heartbreaking. He looked terrified, like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to be pushed.

"Because last night, you told me you loved me," Damien confessed, the words tearing out of his throat. "And I had to sit there and listen to you fall asleep, knowing you were blackout drunk and didn’t mean a single word of it."

Aria froze.

Her eyes widened, the emerald irises swallowing the light. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The air vanished from her lungs.

Damien stared down at her shocked, frozen face. His heart physically ached, a heavy, sinking stone in his chest. It was exactly the reaction he had feared. She was stunned. She was horrified. She didn’t remember.

He let out a broken, self-deprecating laugh, dropping her hand and stepping back as if he had been burned.

"Of course," Damien whispered, dragging a wet hand down his face. "Of course you don’t mean it. It was the tequila. I knew it. Just forget I said anything."

He reached for the door handle, his walls slamming back into place, preparing to walk out and leave his heart bleeding on the wet tile.

Aria finally found her voice.

"You’re an idiot, Damien Sinclair."