Housebound with the Blackridge Heirs novel Chapter 54

**Change Begins With You — Jayden Collins**
**Chapter 54**

**Tylon**

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Her voice sliced through the air before I even had the chance to lift my gaze. I was leaning against the counter, a steaming mug of coffee hovering halfway to my lips, when Maya burst into the kitchen like a tempest unleashed.

She was still clad in her training gear, and honestly, that only amplified the chaos swirling in my mind. The black leggings she wore clung to her hips and thighs like a second skin, accentuating every curve, every line. The loose-fitting tank top did little to conceal the graceful curve of her waist or the smooth, sculpted shoulders that seemed to invite admiration.

Just enough of her sports bra peeked through, sending my thoughts spiraling into territories they had no business wandering. Her hair was pulled back in a haphazard bun, with errant strands cascading down to frame her flushed cheeks. A fine sheen of perspiration glistened along her collarbone, catching the light and drawing my attention like a moth to a flame with every slight movement she made.

In that moment, she embodied both strength and vulnerability, as if temptation had strolled out of a fierce battle and into my very kitchen.

Before she even closed the distance between us, I caught a whiff of cedar and salt—an intoxicating blend that was unmistakably Caden’s scent, mingling with her own like a heartbeat echoing in the air.

I remained silent, unwilling to trust myself to respond.

She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with an intensity that made my heart race. “Don’t you dare ignore me again.”

I took another sip, feigning indifference, pretending I couldn’t hear the storm brewing in her voice.

In an instant, her hand shot out, knocking my mug from my grasp. Coffee splattered across the counter and the floor, creating a messy puddle between us.

“Seriously?” I muttered, righting the mug with a sense of irritation that barely masked my surprise.

“Yes, seriously!” she shot back, her frustration palpable. “You’ve been avoiding me for days! One moment, you’re acting like everything’s fine, and the next, you look at me as if I’m something you’d rather obliterate than engage with.”

“Maya—”

“No, don’t you dare ‘Maya’ me. I’m done with this. I’m sick of you treating me like I’m the villain in this story when all I’ve tried to do is understand this place and—”

Her voice wavered, but the anger remained, simmering just beneath the surface.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my tone to remain steady. “You should go.”

“The hell I will.” She stepped even closer, her presence radiating heat that I could feel even through the tension hanging thick in the air. “You don’t get to shut down and just walk away. Not this time.”

I turned to leave, but she was quicker, slipping between me and the door with arms outstretched. “No, Tylon. You’re not walking out of this. Talk to me.”

The last word trembled on her lips, and something in my chest tightened painfully.

I met her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and frustration reflected there. It was the same tempest that raged within me every time she looked at me, leaving me bewildered as to why my heart raced like a runaway train.

“You really want to know what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

“Yes!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the small space. “I want to know why you seem to hate me! What did I do to deserve this?”

In that moment, I snapped.

My hand found her arm—not with enough force to harm, but just enough to pull her back too quickly, too close. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud, and I felt the air leave my lungs.

Her breath caught in her throat. Mine ceased entirely.

She looked up at me, wide-eyed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as if she could hardly contain the emotions swirling between us.

And just like that, everything I had been trying to bury clawed its way back to the surface, raw and unfiltered.

The atmosphere shifted, the anger morphing into something molten and familiar, something I had been trying to resist for far too long.

“Maya,” I said, my voice low and gravelly.

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. I could see the pulse in her throat, the way her eyes flicked down to my mouth before she caught herself, a mix of desire and uncertainty swirling in the space between us.

I should have stepped back—should have created distance. But instead, I remained where I was, my palms pressed against the wall beside her head, effectively trapping her. The faint scent of her shampoo, sweet and inviting, wrapped around me, and I noticed a strand of hair clinging to her cheek, begging to be tucked behind her ear.

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