Her breath stuttered. Not much. Just enough.
“You’re playing too,” I whispered, letting each word soak into the space between us like poison in water. “Every time you snap at me… every time you put on another layer of armor… all you’re doing is proving how badly you want me to take it apart.”
Her chin lifted—defiance incarnate.
But her eyes?
Still flickering.
Still fighting herself.
And I?
I was thriving.
She was a fire I wanted to stoke—not extinguish.
Not yet.
“I can smell your anger,” I said softly, leaning in until our foreheads nearly touched. “It’s intoxicating.”
She flinched.
But didn’t pull away.
Instead, she inhaled—deep, sharp, a breath that sounded like battle prep.
Good.
Let her stand tall.
Let her fight.
Because the longer she resisted?
The sweeter her surrender would be.
“Let’s see how long you can hold onto it,” I murmured, voice silk-wrapped steel, before pulling back just enough to let her breathe.
Not escape.
Just breathe.
The tension between us didn’t snap.
It coiled tighter.
Because somewhere in that moment, something shifted.
Not broken.
Not yet.
But bending.
And oh, gods—how beautiful she looked right before the fall.
I stepped back, hands in my pockets, grin simmering just beneath the surface.
