Chapter 6
Serena's POV
Louis’s jaw tightened, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “The kind that doesn’t involve me inside you.”
Heat flooded my face, sharp humiliation twisting in my chest. But the denial died before it could form—my body was already betraying me. The ache between my thighs had grown into a deep, throbbing hunger that made my legs tremble and my mind fog. I hated how desperate I must look. How weak. Yet the drug’s fire was far crueler than any shame.
“I can’t—” The words fractured into a broken whimper as another searing wave crashed through me.
“You can,” Louis said softly. He moved onto the bed with deliberate slowness, giving me every chance to pull away. I didn’t. I couldn’t. My body was screaming for relief, and he was the only one offering it without taking anything for himself.
His hand finally touched me—warm fingers gliding slowly up my calf. Even that innocent contact sent electricity racing across my skin. I gasped, hips twitching involuntarily. My mind raced ahead, bracing for what I thought was coming.
Louis’s eyes darkened with restrained hunger, but his touch remained gentle. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, voice strained.
I couldn’t speak. I could only nod frantically, breath coming in shallow, desperate pants. Then, without warning, he stood and stripped off his robe in one fluid motion, revealing the hard, sculpted lines of his bare body. My heart slammed against my ribs.
He lifted me into his arms and carried me into the bathroom. The shower roared to life, ice-cold water pouring down. He stepped under the freezing spray with me still pressed against him—skin to skin, my thin teddy soaked and clinging uselessly between us.
The shock of the cold water hit like lightning. I cried out, body convulsing violently against his naked chest. Louis held me tighter, one powerful arm locked around my waist, the other cradling the back of my head as the icy torrent drenched us both.
“I’ve got you,” he breathed hot against my ear, his voice low and rough. “Just hold onto me.”
The drug’s fire clashed brutally with the freezing water. I writhed and gasped, my nails digging hard into the slick, muscled planes of his back as another wave of unbearable heat tore through me. His skin was scorching compared to the water, every inch of our bodies pressed together—my breasts against his chest, my legs tangled with his, his strong thighs supporting my weight.
He didn’t touch me anywhere inappropriate. He simply held me through the violent shudders, letting the cold water do its work while his body anchored me. My fingers clawed at his back with every spasm, leaving red trails across his skin as I trembled uncontrollably in his arms.
“Come on, Serena… let it break,” he whispered, lips brushing my temple, voice dark with the effort of staying in control.
The release hit like a shattering wave—violent, blinding, and endless. The combination of freezing water and his burning skin ripped the drug’s fire out of me in powerful, wracking spasms. A choked sob tore from my throat as I clung to him desperately, my body jerking and shaking against his naked frame until the searing heat finally ebbed.
When the last tremor faded, I collapsed bonelessly against him, cheek pressed to his wet chest, both of us breathing hard under the now-warming spray. Louis kept holding me, one hand slowly stroking my back in soothing circles, his heartbeat steady and strong beneath my ear.
I felt raw, exposed, and completely vulnerable. But wrapped in his arms like this—naked skin to soaked skin—I had never felt safer.
“Thank you,” I whispered, voice hoarse and trembling.
Louis didn’t respond. He simply turned off the water, wrapped me in a thick towel, and carried me back to the bed. Only then did he pull on a fresh robe and walk to the window. The silence between us was heavy, charged with everything that had just happened.
I wanted to say something more, but exhaustion dragged me under. My eyelids grew heavy, and despite everything, sleep claimed me.
The last thing I saw was Louis standing by the window, his silhouette dark against the city lights, fists clenched tightly at his sides.
I woke to the violent buzzing of my phone.
For a moment, I didn't know where I was. The room was too big, too luxurious, the sheets too soft. Then everything came rushing back—Jax, Anna, the drug, Louis. Some time after I fell asleep, he must have left the window for the couch; he was now asleep across the room, his long frame sprawled out in a way that looked deeply uncomfortable. The sight of him made my chest tighten. He had stayed. He had kept his word. Gratitude and something softer twisted inside me, but the crisis crashing over everything else shoved those feelings aside.
I grabbed the phone with unsteady hands. My blood ran cold at Jax’s message.
Jax:
Since you didn't bother responding all night, I figured you were too busy. So I went ahead and shared some of your best work with the world. You're welcome.
I opened Instagram. My feed exploded with tags, mentions, and screenshots. Fingers fumbling, I nearly dropped the device as the post loaded. Private, explicit images I had never meant for public eyes were now everywhere. The caption made my stomach churn:
"Malibu's Richest Daughter's Secret Life: OnlyFans Model Serena Reed EXPOSED. Not so innocent after all. Full album in bio."
Comments flooded in by the thousands—cruel, vicious, gleeful. I couldn’t breathe. My vision blurred with hot tears.
Dad checked the news every morning like clockwork. If reporters reached the hospital first, he’d hear it from strangers. His heart—already so fragile—couldn’t survive that kind of shock. I had to get to him. I had to warn him before the storm hit.
Legs still weak from the drug’s aftermath, I forced myself out of bed. The room tilted for a second; I braced a hand against the wall until it steadied. I yanked on my jeans and T-shirt, the simple motions taking far more effort than they should have. Louis stirred on the couch, eyes opening slowly.
“Serena?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“I have to go,” I said, voice cracking as I shoved my feet into my shoes. “My dad—he can’t see this. I have to reach him before it’s too late.”
“Serena, wait—”
But I was already bolting for the door. I bypassed the elevator and took the stairs, one hand gripping the railing as my knees threatened to buckle. Each flight sent fresh dizziness spinning through me, but panic kept me moving. Somehow I made it to the valet stand. The attendant barely had time to react before I snatched my keys and slid behind the wheel. My grip on the steering wheel was slippery and unsteady; twice I had to blink hard to clear the black spots dancing in my vision as I sped toward the hospital.
The ten-minute drive stretched into an eternity. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, the post had been shared over fifty thousand times. I burst through the hospital doors, hair wild, face streaked with tears. The oncology ward hallway felt endless. My father’s room was at the end—door slightly ajar, lights dim inside. The usual low hum of monitors seemed too quiet, almost hushed, and a nurse lingered just outside with a somber expression that sent ice down my spine.
I pushed through the door, heart hammering.
“Dad, I—”
The words died on my lips.
