I couldn’t breathe properly as he drew near. Every rational thought fled as my pulse thrummed in my ears. I wanted to run, I wanted to fight, but the ache in my chest demanded more, demanded him.
He reached for me, and I let him. My hands rested on his chest, feeling the strength beneath, the steady heartbeat I had memorized months ago. I shivered, overwhelmed by how completely he consumed me without touching me fully yet.
His lips hovered close, almost grazing mine, and I closed my eyes. Every emotion, every piece of me that I had tried to hide, came forward. I felt raw, exposed, terrified, and alive all at once and when he finally kissed me, it was fire, passion, need, longing, and possessiveness fused in that single, burning moment. I surrendered completely.
The moment his hands found my waist, the world narrowed.
There was no terrace. No city. No estate breathing around us.
Justhim.
His fingers tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to anchor me, to remind me that I was standing because he allowed it. My pulse thundered in my ears, every nerve in my body aware of the space between us shrinking inch by inch.
“Look at me,” he said softly.
It wasn’t a command shouted. It was worse. It was quiet. Certain.
I lifted my eyes.
The intensity in his gaze stole the air from my lungs. There was no anger there tonight. No cold calculation. Only hunger. Possession. Something deeper. Something almost fragile beneath the surface.
His thumb brushed under my chin, tilting my face upward and then he kissed me, again.
Not rushed. Not reckless. Deliberate.
His lips moved slowly against mine at first, testing, feeling, claiming. I inhaled sharply as his other hand slid to the small of my back, pressing me firmly against him. The heat of his body seeped through my dress, grounding and overwhelming all at once.
I meant to resist. I always meant to resist but this time… I didn’t.
My hands rose to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palms, strong, controlled, unwavering. The contrast to the chaos inside me made my knees weaken.
He deepened the kiss.
Fire swept through me as his mouth claimed mine more fully, more possessively. I gasped against him, and he took the opportunity, angling his head, devouring every hesitant breath I offered.
It wasn’t gentle anymore. It was consuming.
His hand slid from my waist up my spine, fingers threading into my hair, holding me there as if I might disappear. His dominance wasn’t violent, it was certain and absolute. He wasn’t asking. He was taking, and I was letting him.
No.I was choosing him.
The realization made tears sting my eyes.
His lips left mine slowly, trailing down the curve of my jaw. My breath hitched as he pressed a kiss beneath my ear, then another along my neck. Each touch was unhurried and intentional. My body arched instinctively toward him, betraying every wall I had built.
“Sera,” he murmured against my skin.
The way he said my name, low and reverent, nearly broke me.
His mouth moved lower, brushing over my collarbone, then to my shoulder. He kissed me there, firm and lingering. As if he was memorizing the shape of me. As if he was marking me without leaving a visible bruise.
My fingers tangled deeper into his hair, holding him there. I wasn’t fighting anymore. I wasn’t trembling from fear. I was trembling because I wanted this, because every piece of me that had once resisted was now unraveling in his hands.
He lifted his head slowly, eyes dark, breathing heavier now. His hand slid up to cradle the back of my neck, thumb brushing along my jaw.
“You don’t run from me tonight,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t a threat. It was a truth.
