Claiming me.
When he finally pulls away, it’s only by inches. His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm, his presence overwhelming.
And I’m left trembling, not with fear.
But with the terrible, undeniable truth that he doesn’t just want me.
He consumes me.
“Okay, Little Heaven,” he murmurs softly, his lips brushing mine as he speaks, a slow lick of his mouth betraying just how deliberate this is. “A date it is.”
His voice drops lower, darker. “And I’ll show you exactly how mine you really are.”
The words sink straight into me, stealing the strength from my knees.
Footsteps approach, voices drifting closer. Tate and Ryan step outside, but Khai doesn’t move away. If anything, his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me flush against him, a silent claim made undeniable. He lifts his gaze to Ryan, slow and measured, a knowing smirk curling his mouth.
I can feel Ryan watching us. Measuring. Losing.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” Khai murmurs, his attention never leaving mine. “8 p.m.”
There’s no question in it. No space for refusal.
Heleans in again, impossibly close. One hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my face up to his. His mouth crashes into mine, possessive, unapologetic. Not just a kiss.
A declaration.
When he pulls away, he lingers for a beat, his gaze burning into mine before flicking back to Ryan, one final, lethal look, then he turns and walks off like he hasn’t just unravelled me.
Over his shoulder, he calls out casually, “You better take care of my girl, Tate.”
I don’t move. Can’t.
I’m left standing there stunned, breathless, my heart racing like it’s forgotten how to beat normally.
Tate loops her arm through Ryan’s and grins, light and unbothered. “Well,” she says, planting a quick kiss on his cheek, “I guess it’s you and me now.”
I watch the exchange with surprising calm. No jealousy. Just awareness, as something shifts in Ryan’s eyes, a door cracking open where there hadn’t been one before.
Later, Tate and I climb into a cab, headed back to my place. Her head eventually falls against my shoulder, already drifting. I stare out the window as the city blurs past, my body still humming, my thoughts hopelessly tangled around one undeniable truth:
Whatever Khai is to me,
Nothing about him is accidental.
Chapter Sixteen
Emmy
By the time we reach my apartment, Tate is dead weight.
I practically haul her out of the cab, her head lolling against my shoulder, limbs uncooperative. She mumbles something unintelligible as I coax her up the stairs, step by step, until we reach my floor. She manages to stand just long enough for me to fumble with my keys and push the door open.
The moment we’re inside, she collapses onto the couch like gravity finally remembered her. No protests. No commentary. Just the soft, immediate sound of sleep claiming her.
I let out a tired breath. “Night, Tate.”
I slip her heels off, set them neatly by the couch, then pull a blanket over her curled form. Her breathing evens out almost instantly, soft snores filling the quiet space.
