Her voice comes raw, broken at the edges. “I want to forget everything.”
I lean against the wall, watching her shoulders shake. She looks smaller like this, curled in on herself, stripped of the fire she wears like armor. I lower myself slowly to the floor beside her, my back against the same wall. For a moment we sit in silence, breathing the same air, the space between us charged.
She finally lifts her head, eyes rimmed red, voice sharp despite the crack in it. “You ruined my life.”
I stare ahead at the opposite wall, the words landing heavy. “I know.”
Admitting it should feel like defeat, but it doesn’t. It’s the truth, and truth is the only thing I have left to offer her.
She turns toward me, searching my face. “Then why are you here? What do you want from me?”
My answer comes before I can stop it, quiet, raw. “Not this.”
Her laugh is bitter, empty. “Liar. Men like you don’t regret anything.”
Her words slice, but I don’t flinch. “I hated what my father did. I hate what the past turned me into.”
Her glare sharpens, wet with fury. “You’re pretending. Guilt is just another mask for you. You don’t feel a damn thing.”
I don’t argue. I let the accusation hang, let her spit venom at me because I’ve earned every drop of it. My silence stretches between us, heavy.
Something pulls me toward her, an instinct stronger than reason. I lean in and press my mouth to hers. The kiss is neither soft nor cruel. It’s unsteady, a collision of everything unsaid.
She shoves me back, breath breaking ragged, but her hands don’t leave me. Her eyes blaze, torn between fury and something else. Then she grabs my shirt and drags me forward, her mouth crashing back into mine.
The tension that’s been straining between us for days snaps clean through.
Her lips are hot, desperate, moving against mine with a force that leaves me shaking. My hand cups the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair as I pull her closer. She tastes like salt and fire, the edge of her anger mixing with something sweeter, darker.
Her nails dig into my chest through the thin fabric of my shirt. She kisses me like she wants to devour me, like she wants to punish me with every movement. I let her. I take it, give back the same intensity, pressing her against the wall, needing to feel her as close as possible.
She pulls back just enough to glare at me, lips swollen, breath heaving. “I hate you.”
“I know.” My voice comes low, rough, shaking with everything I can’t say.
Then she drags me down again, her mouth crushing against mine. There’s no rhythm, no patience. It’s teeth and tongue, a battle and a surrender all at once.
My hand slides down her arm, wrapping around her wrist. Her pulse races under my thumb, frantic. She trembles, not with fear but with fury and hunger, and it burns through me.
She bites my lip hard enough to draw blood, and I groan into her mouth, the copper taste sharp between us. She doesn’t apologize. She pulls me closer, her body arching into mine as if she can’t stand the distance anymore.
I press my forehead to hers, panting. “You shouldn’t want this.”
Her laugh is harsh, broken. “Neither should you.”
Then her mouth is on mine again, and I stop thinking altogether.
The weight of years, of lies, of hatred presses into this moment, boiling over into heat that sears through both of us. Her hands clutch my shoulders, dragging me down with her. My body presses against hers, every inch of me aching with the need to take and the fear of what it means if I do.
I kiss her harder, pouring into it everything I can’t admit, everything I’ve buried under silence. She answers with the same ferocity, every gasp and groan tearing another piece of my armor away.
The world narrows to the taste of her, the sound of her breath, the sharp pull of her nails against my skin.
When I finally tear my mouth from hers, I rest my head against the wall, chest heaving, blood roaring in my ears. She sits beside me, lips swollen, hair tangled, eyes blazing with a storm I’ve never seen in her before.
We don’t speak. Words would ruin this fragile thing hanging between us, this moment balanced on the edge of ruin and desire.
Her hand lingers on my chest, fingers curled in the fabric like she can’t decide whether to shove me away or pull me closer.
