Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 51: A Teasing Journey

Chapter 51: A Teasing Journey

Jared watched her, cradling her sleeping form in his arms, and for the first time, felt something slip between his fingers. She was right there, warm and real, yet somehow unreachable. Jerica felt farther away than ever, like a shoreline retreating with the tide, leaving him stranded on shifting sands he could no longer control.

"Is your room comfortable?" Alex’s voice broke through Jared’s thoughts.

Jared gave a polite nod, his gaze unmoving from Jerica’s face. "Yes, Mr. Walsh handled everything perfectly."

He shifted, preparing to lift her, but Jerica stirred. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened, disoriented. When she realized who was holding her, she drew a quick breath, squirming away to stand, though her balance wavered.

"Jared!" she gasped, looking caught off guard. "Dinner—I—I didn’t even serve it yet—"

"Mr. Walsh already took care of that," Jared interjected coolly, his voice controlled. "And he’s prepared our room. Let’s go."

Jerica, sheepish, quickly grabbed his jacket from the couch, fumbling in her haste, her cheeks flushed. Jared’s eyes flickered, his expression unreadable as he watched her collect herself, then turned for the door.

Jerica trailed behind him, her steps tentative, heavy with a feeling of guilt that she couldn’t quite shake. She’d ignored him all evening, focused on everyone else, and somehow, in the swirl of the night, she had almost forgotten him entirely.

That cold look from earlier on the drive resurfaced in her mind, a quiet, biting reminder of the chasm between them.

When she stepped outside, Jared was already waiting by the stairs, bathed in the soft glow of the porch light. Shadows sharpened his features, and his eyes—intense, watchful—held an edge that made her stomach tighten.

"I... I’m sorry," she began, her voice trembling slightly as she took a tentative step closer. But Jared opened the door and entered the house.

Jerica took a deep breath to compose herself and stepped inside.

The moment Jerica stepped inside, the house seemed to hold its breath, suspended in the thick, tense silence that Jared exuded as he waited at the foot of the stairs.

The dim light played across his chiseled features, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the flicker of muscle in his clenched expression. But his eyes—they held something more, a flash of predatory intensity that made her heart race with an unsettling mixture of fear and something else she couldn’t name.

"I... I am sorry, I..." Jerica’s voice was barely a whisper, betraying the anxiety threading through her. She hesitated, glancing away before finding his gaze again. "I know you didn’t want me to attend the gala, but—"

Jared cut her off, his voice devoid of warmth. "How much did you pay for your dress?"

Jerica blinked, momentarily stunned. Was he really asking about the price of her dress?

The tension between them was palpable, yet here he was, cold and distant, ignoring everything she thought they might discuss and fixating instead on something so trivial—or maybe it wasn’t trivial to him. She tried to decipher the look in his eyes, but it only left her feeling more flustered.

"Uh, it was...$1490," she stammered after a pause, swallowing against the dryness in her throat. "I got it on sale... two years ago."

She barely had a chance to comprehend her own response when Jared moved closer, his touch icy as his fingers grazed her shoulder, slipping beneath the thin strap of her dress. She gasped softly, instinctively stepping back as her heartbeat thundered in her ears. But he followed, his finger curling around the strap, keeping her close as he leaned in, his lips almost brushing her earlobe. A chill shot down her spine, blending uneasily with the heat his proximity stirred.

His gaze didn’t falter as he studied her, his expression unreadable. She bit her lip, willing her heart to calm down, trying to ground herself as his fingers toyed with the delicate fabric. It felt like a challenge, a silent dare, as he tugged on the strap with a subtle pressure.

Desperate to regain some control, Jerica blocked his hand with her forearm, attempting to step away. But he didn’t move, his presence an immovable wall pressing her against the hard surface behind her. She was trapped.

Jared’s fingers resumed their teasing journey, tracing along her collarbone, slipping lower as if searching for a path along her neckline. His attention shifted briefly to his phone, but his hand remained anchored on her, the light touch of his fingers stirring a confusing, vulnerable ache inside her that made it hard to breathe. The fabric slipped a fraction lower, enough for his fingers to brush against the curve of her cleavage, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She felt her chest tighten, her breathing become shallower, as if she were balancing on the edge of a precipice.

She almost whispered, Touch me more, but a sudden text alert interrupted, jolting her from the spell he had cast. She glanced down to see a message notification from her bank—a transfer of exactly $1490.

Confused, she looked up, the question unspoken on her lips as she caught Jared’s gaze, now filled with a dark hunger that made her pulse race all over again. He slipped his phone onto the side table, his hand still resting just above her neckline, fingers pressing subtly into her skin.

He leaned in, pulling the neckline of her dress lower, the sequined embellishments scraping lightly across her skin, their faint sting oddly intoxicating. A whispered protest escaped her lips, "Jared!" But his grip only tightened, and he pressed down firmly, letting the neckline dip further, exposing more of her flushed skin beneath the dim light.

"What are you doing?" she breathed, more a demand than a question, yet he showed no sign of stopping. The chill of his fingers juxtaposed with the burn of her exposed skin beneath his touch. Her hand darted up to grip his wrist, her grip firm but faltering as she watched, wide-eyed, while the sequins cut lightly into his hand. She could see a thin line of blood starting to surface along his knuckle, and her heart twisted at the sight.

"Stop this!" she cried, feeling both bewildered and vulnerable under the weight of his unreadable gaze. She took a breath, summoning strength to meet his eyes head-on. "What do you want?"

"Where’s the zipper?" he replied, his tone strangely detached. "I’ve been looking for it for quite some time... and I just can’t seem to find it."

The question hung in the air between them, bizarrely casual amidst the smoldering tension. His hands held steady as he examined her with a dark curiosity, as though he were trying to unlock something hidden beneath her surface.