Aanya's apartment was silent.
Too silent for the storm building inside her.
She was done playing the good girl. Done keeping quiet. Done pretending that last night didn't matter.
That he didn't matter.
So when the doorbell rang — her heart already knew.
She opened it slowly.
And there he was.
Riaan Khurana.Powerful. Undone.No suit. No mask.
Just him.
And when she didn't move, he said two words:
"I'm sorry."
Her lips parted.
"Sorry for what?" she asked. "For touching me? Or for pretending it meant nothing?"
His eyes darkened. "For leaving you alone in the fire I started."
Silence.
Then she stepped aside. Let him in.
The door clicked shut. The air thickened.
He turned to her, slowly. "Say it, Aanya. Say you hate me. It'll make it easier for me to walk out."
"I don't hate you," she said, voice shaking."I hate that I want you, even when I know you'll break me."
His chest rose. "Then let me break you right."
She gasped as he backed her into the wall, his hands already in her hair, lips crashing into hers like an apology wrapped in fire.
"You said you wanted me to beg?" he growled, pinning her wrists. "Then beg I will."
He dropped to his knees.
Right there.
In front of her.
"I'll worship every inch of you, if that's what it takes," he whispered, lifting her shirt, pressing burning kisses to her skin.
Her fingers tangled in his hair.
"Riaan…"
"Let me show you what regret tastes like."
He lifted her like she weighed nothing, carrying her to the couch.
Her blouse was gone in seconds. Her skirt followed.Then nothing but heat. Mouths. Hands. Desperate, shameless pleasure.
He didn't just touch her.He claimed her.Again. And again. Until her cries turned into gasps of his name, and his groans made her shudder.
He buried his face in her neck as they collapsed into the cushions, skin against skin, hearts beating like war drums.
"I meant every touch," he whispered."And I'll burn the whole damn world before I let you walk away again."