Chapter110 – I can’t accept you
“…Clarissa?” He called her name again—soft, patient.
Only then did she blink back into the moment, breath caught in her chest.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I… I heard you.”
Her eyes involuntarily drifted to Atticus.
He had stopped moving, hands frozen mid-motion, dark eyes locked on her like obsidian flames. There was something dangerous in them—mischievous, seductive, and deeply possessive. That gaze was like a black pool, threatening to drag her under and drown her.
Clarissa's heart skipped a beat. She turned her back to him on instinct, but she could still feel it—that burning stare crawling over her skin.
Her body tensed, trembling just slightly. A prickling discomfort spread through her limbs, as if she were sitting on pins and needles. William’s voice continued on the other end of the phone, but her thoughts had already tangled.
William was gentle, dependable, and she’d seriously considered dating him. She’d even envisioned a normal future, one with weekend dinners and quiet affection.
But right now, Atticus was here. And everything between them was twisted, complicated, and dangerously uncertain. It wasn’t the kind of situation she could walk into a relationship from—not without dragging someone else into the chaos.
And Atticus… she didn’t know what he’d do. Staying out in the rain all night was one thing—but next time? It could be worse.
Clarissa inhaled deeply and steadied her voice. “No need to wait until then, William. I’m sorry—I can’t accept you.”
She gave him no room for hope, no soft landing. William was a good man—too good. She couldn’t let him make promises to a woman who couldn’t even promise herself.
She was honest with everyone else. Only when it came to Atticus did her boundaries blur. Only with him did she falter. But she didn’t realize that yet.
The moment she ended it, a strange weight lifted off her chest. A quiet kind of relief.
On the other end of the line, William went silent. His brows pulled together as if something had pierced him—deep and sharp.
But he still managed to speak gently. “Can I ask why? Are you… dealing with something? Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Clarissa said quickly. “This isn’t about you. It’s my own issue.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I really can’t accept you, William. You deserve someone better. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Silly girl,” he said after a pause, voice warm despite the ache beneath it. “You don’t need to apologize. Saying no is your right.”
Her throat tightened.
William must have sensed it, because he cut in softly, “I have to head to the airport. Okay?”
“…Okay.” The line went dead.
Clarissa stared at the blank screen for a moment, mind floating. Emotions tugged at her from every direction.
Then something shifted behind her.
A tall shadow leaned in from behind, his body heat immediately surrounding her.
Atticus. And his expression had changed.
Gone was the gloom from moments ago—the shadowed hostility. In its place, a slow-burning satisfaction lit up his face. His lips curled faintly, his eyes gleamed like a predator who had finally tasted victory.
“Did you turn him down… because of me, sister?” he murmured, voice low and velvety.
He hadn’t touched her. But the way he loomed behind her, his breath brushing the shell of her ear—it was worse. She felt caged by his presence, swallowed whole by it.
She flinched and instinctively slid toward the far corner of the sofa. Her eyes lifted to meet his—dark and magnetic.
“Atticus,” she said, steadying herself. “Go sit down. I need to make something clear.”
He tilted his head and smiled—sinful, elegant, seductive. “What is it you want to say, sister?” he asked, his voice dripping with teasing sweetness.
Clarissa hesitated for a second, then spoke firmly. “The main reason I turned William down… was you.”
Atticus’s eyes lit with a flicker of satisfaction—but before he could speak, she cut in again, her tone suddenly cold.
“He’s a good man. And I didn’t want to drag him into this mess—into you and me....”
A younger brother, obsessed with his own sister. No boyfriend would stand a chance.
Atticus's smile twisted at the edges, sharp and knowing. “How good is he?”
How good? Better than him? That nerd spent his days hunched over lab equipment—what could he possibly offer her? Could he protect her? Please her? Keep her up all night and still beg for more in the morning?
Hell no.
Atticus clenched his fists subtly at his sides, jaw tight. Just because I’m younger? Just because I’m your brother?
He’d make her see. He wasn’t a little boy anymore. He was a man now.
“Sit up,” Clarissa snapped suddenly, her patience thinning.
But to Atticus, her flustered authority was just... adorable. Like a kitten pretending to roar.
Still, he didn’t want to truly push her—so he pulled back and sat upright.
Clarissa waited a beat, then continued, her voice softening into reason. “The issue here isn’t William—it’s us. I have to take some responsibility for what’s happened. Maybe I didn’t teach you better.”
She looked at him earnestly. “You’re only eighteen. It’s normal at your age to be curious about love, to fantasize. But you’ve fixated on me because I’m the only woman close to you. You’ll meet others, experience real relationships, and realize—what you’re feeling right now isn’t love.”
Atticus didn’t say a word. He just watched her. He watched her lips as they moved. He watched the way her chest rose with every breath.
And all he could think about… was how much he wanted to silence her.
With his mouth. On her lips. Her throat. Her skin. Anywhere she’d let him. Anywhere she wouldn’t.
His gaze darkened, deepening with unspoken desire.
“Atticus? Atticus?”
Clarissa had been talking for a while before she noticed something off. When she looked up, he was just staring at her—eyes smoldering, full of something dark and consuming.
It wasn’t the blank stare of someone zoning out. It was intense. Hungry. The kind of gaze that made her skin prickle and her breath catch in her throat.
“Are you even listening to me?” she asked, voice sharp with unease.
“Yes,” he said, gaze still locked on her lips. “I am.”
He sounded far away, even as his eyes followed the flush on her cheeks. Her delicate face was tinged pink with frustration, and that only made her look more enticing in his eyes.
“Then repeat what I just said.”
Atticus blinked, then smiled faintly. His memory was impeccable—he repeated every word she’d said, like a student reciting lines for a play.
Halfway through, Clarissa cut him off. “Okay, okay, fine. I get it. You were listening.”
Atticus tilted his head slightly, lips curling. “I actually understood what you said, sister.”
“Well, good,” she replied, trying to steer things back to normal. “So, we—”
“But,” he interrupted, voice suddenly more serious, “there’s a bigger issue here.”
Clarissa narrowed her eyes. “What issue?”
Atticus’s teasing smile faded, replaced by something sincere, and far more dangerous. “I can’t feel anything for other women anymore. No attraction. No interest. No desire. It’s only you, Clarissa.”
“Don’t say that!” she snapped, voice rising, her cheeks going crimson. “Just—don’t.”
Atticus gave a soft chuckle. “Okay, fine. I’ll drop it. I’m just saying, I’ve been around plenty of women.”
Clarissa’s eyes widened. “What did you say?”
“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I’m still a virgin. Completely untouched.”
His eyes burned into hers as he said it, slow and deliberate.
Because if he were going to give himself to anyone… it sure as hell wouldn’t be someone else. Only her.