The CEO’s Unspoken Love (Eleanor and Derek) novel Chapter 122

Chapter 122

Eleanor POV

The descent began with Olivia, James and me walking in front, while Derek trailed behind with Daniel and Melissa. I could feel his

eyes on my back, burning through my jacket, but I refused to turn around. My heart still raced from what had happened at dawn-

Derek’s confession, the kiss that shouldn’t have heen. Each step down the treacherous, snow-slick trail was a battle to focus, to not

let my thoughts spiral back to the warmth of his lips on mine.

“You okay?” Olivia whispered, linking her arm through mine. “You seem… different.”

“Just tired, I lied, staring at the icy path beneath my boots.

Occasionally, when the trail widened, I’d glance back to check on the group, only to find Derek’s intense gaze waiting for me. Each time, something electric passed between us-a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken. I forced myself to look away, gripping

D Olivia’s arm tighter.

By the time we reached the base of the mountain, exhaustion weighed on my limbs. The parking lot was stirring with early hikers,

their chatter a jarring contrast to our quiet tension.

“Let’s head back to the resort and rest for a bit, James suggested, wiping sweat from his brow despite the chill. ‘We can grab lunch together at noon before driving back to Boston.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, too drained to argue. I noticed James’s expression, though-his usual warmth dimmed, his smile tight. I knew I hadn’t given him any clear signal about my feelings, and after what had just happened with Derek, my mind was too tangled to even consider his. Guilt pricked at me, but I pushed it aside. I couldn’t deal with another emotional puzzle right now.

Back at the hotel, we dispersed to our rooms with promises to meet in the dining hall at noon. I collapsed onto my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to quiet the storm in my head. Sleep eluded me, and soon enough, it was time to reconvene.

Lunch was a subdued affair, the group too tired for much conversation. James sat across from me, his glances fleeting and guarded. I felt a pang of regret but kept my distance, unable to muster the energy to address whatever was brewing there. Derek, seated at the far end of the table, watched me with that same unrelenting intensity, though he said little.

When it was time to head back to Boston, James offered to drive Olivia and me.

The drive back was long and quiet, the winter dusk settling over the highway by the time we reached Newton. I stepped into my parents’ Victorian home as evening deepened, the familiar chill of the house mirroring my own. Sunny, my golden retriever, bounded toward me, her enthusiasm a small balm to my weary soul.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” I murmured, kneeling to scratch behind her ears.

I dropped my bag in the foyer and trudged to the living room, collapsing onto the worn leather sofa. Above the fireplace, my parents’ portrait gazed down-young, smiling, oblivious to their fate. I stared at their faces, seeking answers.

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Chapter 122

“What would you think of me now?” I whispered.

No matter what Derek said or did, I couldn’t-wouldn’t-be pulled back into that cycle. Three years of emotional whiplash was enough. The divorce was almost final. I had to stay strong.

Determined, I headed upstairs for a hot bath to wash away the mountain chill and the memory of Derek’s touch. The old clawfoot tub filled slowly, steam fogging the mirror. I shed my layers, wincing at sore muscles, and sank into the water with a sigh-part relief, part ache.

But my mind betrayed me, drifting back to the mountain, to Derek’s lips, his hands. And then further, to just a month ago, in the

marble bathroom of the Wells family home in Beacon Hill. Derek behind me, water streaming over us, his breath hot on my neck. His

hands, possessive, sliding over my wet skin, tracing every curve with deliberate intent. His fingers had explored, teasing, igniting every

nerve until I was trembling, lost in him.

My breath hitched now, alone in my tub, as my hand moved beneath the water almost against my will. I fought it-God, I tried-

clenching my other fist against the porcelain edge. I shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t crave the memory of him after all the hurt. But

my body didn’t care about reason, responding to the ghost of his touch, fingers circling slowly, tentatively, until heat built and I bit

my lip to stifle a gasp. When release came, it was sharp and hollow, leaving me shuddering with water rippling around me.

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The CEO’s Unspoken Love