Sherina's POV
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I closed the bathroom door behind me with a soft click, the steam following me out like a ghost. My damp hair clung stubbornly to my neck as I rubbed it with the towel, releasing a quiet sigh.
My gaze swept across the apartment—spotless. The table was cleared, the plates gone, everything arranged neatly as if someone had pressed pause on time.
Yet there was no sign of Leon.
I padded toward my bedroom, sliding the door open. There he was—Sitting in the dim halo of my study lamp, his broad frame leaned slightly forward, eyes fixed on the glow of my phone's screen.
The light painted his face in shadow and gold, sharpening the hard lines of his jaw, highlighting the stillness in his expression. He looked like a figure carved into the night, unmoving, dangerous in his quiet.
I closed the door softly behind me and moved toward him, my knees sinking to the carpet as I reached for my phone. My fingers brushed against the cool surface when his voice cut through the hush.
"Someone was calling you." His tone was low, almost flat, but laced with a coldness that stung more than I wanted to admit.
I unlocked the screen.
Prince.
Two missed calls, one message: Are you home safe?
Leon's mouth curved slightly, but it wasn't a smile. "Seems like both of you are getting along," he murmured, voice quiet as a blade sliding from its sheath. "He even has your number."
I let out a slow, tired sigh and lifted my gaze to his. "What is it with you?"
He didn't answer. Not with words.
His eyes—dark, relentless—were locked on me with such intensity that my pulse stumbled. I felt stripped under that stare, as though he was peeling away every defense I had left.
The silence thickened, stretching like a rope between us, pulling tighter, tighter—I turned away, ready to retreat to my bed, but before I could take a step, his arms came around me.
I froze.
Arms wrapped around me from behind—strong, unyielding. I gasped, stiffening as his chest pressed against my back.
His embrace was fierce, desperate, his heat searing through my still-cool skin. My damp hair clung to his cheek; his muscled arms bound me as though he would never let go.
"Leon, let go…" I said, my voice a fragile attempt at calm. I twisted slightly, trying to glance at him, but he only pulled me tighter, anchoring me to him as if I were his lifeline.
His breath touched my ear, warm and trembling.
"Why do you feel so close… yet so far away?"
The words were so soft I almost thought I'd imagined them.
"What?" I whispered, confusion rising in my chest.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he moved in one swift motion—lifting me, guiding me backward until we fell together onto the bed.
My heart thudded violently.
"Leon!" I scolded, my tone faltering somewhere between protest and something dangerously close to surrender. "Stop teasing me like this!"
But he didn't release me. He only loosened his grip enough for me to turn. And when I did—when I faced him—my breath caught hard in my throat.
We were inches apart.
So close that I could see the faint shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes, the sharp curve of his lashes, the way his lips parted ever so slightly as if he was fighting the urge to speak.
His face was unreadable, carved in restraint, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something raw, something that ignited a flame deep inside me.
"Do you even know," he said, voice low and rough with desire, "how much I'm restraining myself for you?"
His hand gripped my waist suddenly, his strength both terrifying and electrifying. I flinched under the pressure, but it wasn't fear that rushed through me—it was heat, spreading like wildfire beneath my skin.
"I'm taking it slow for you," he continued, his gaze never breaking from mine,
"yet you let another man go ahead of me."
My lips parted, words stumbling on my tongue. "I—I don't know what you're trying to say—"
"Stop acting like you don't know." His voice cut through me, firm, commanding, brooking no argument.
Blood rushed to my face, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. His gaze pinned me, unraveling me thread by thread.
"Sherina,"
He murmured, my name trembling with meaning, with possession, "I already told you. If you need a man, I can be that man. Why do you have to look for someone else?"
His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me flush against him. A shiver coursed through me, my body betraying me as my breath came shallow and quick.
"You're my best friend's brother," I forced out, my voice shaking.
"So you're like… a brother to me. I can't. I don't want to be tangled in Delly's life like this."
But my words felt weak, fragile against the force of his presence.
And he knew it.
His hand moved—slow, deliberate—brushing over my damp hair. He lifted a strand, rolling it between his fingers before bringing it to his nose.
His eyes darkened as he inhaled softly, savoring. The intimacy of the gesture made my stomach twist, heat flaring dangerously.
"This," he whispered, his voice low and husky,
"doesn't look like a brother-sister situation."
I froze.
"You know it better than I do," he continued, eyes piercing mine.
"Even from the start—at the villa—you knew it was impossible. Stop pretending you want me as a brother only."
His words struck deep, unraveling the very defense I clung to.
Did he see through me so easily?
Did he know me better than I knew myself?
If so…
Did that mean I didn't have to pretend with him?
Did that mean I could finally let the mask slip, finally allow myself to fall?
But trust.
Could I trust him with all of me?
With this fragile, dangerous longing I'd buried so carefully?
I stared at him, my eyes swimming with unspoken questions, my lips trembling on the verge of words I couldn't say.
His gaze softened—just slightly—yet it burned hotter, as though he was waiting, daring me to take that step.
Then… let me try.
The thought was silent, but it roared in me, flickering like a flame aching to ignite.
.
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His words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.
"Tell me to stop, Sherina…" Leon's voice was rough, frayed, as though he was standing on the edge of something he could no longer control.
His forehead rested against mine, his breath hot against my lips, his hand still gripping my waist like I was the only thing tethering him to reason.
"…because if you don't… I won't."
The silence between us throbbed louder than my heartbeat.
My chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, my damp hair clinging to my skin, my lips trembling from everything unsaid.
I should have pulled away.
I should have told him no.
But instead… I leaned in.
Before he could finish the space between us, I closed it—
pressing my lips to his with a suddenness that startled even myself.
The kiss was clumsy at first, desperate, like a dam finally breaking open.
My hands, which had been frozen against his chest, pushed upward, curling into his shirt as if I needed him closer, deeper, stronger.
Leon froze for the briefest second—shocked—before a groan escaped him, low and guttural, vibrating against my lips.
His restraint shattered. His arm tightened around me with a force that made me gasp, pulling me flush against his chest.
And then, he kissed me back.
Hard. Devouring.
His lips claimed mine with a fire that left me breathless, his mouth moving against mine in hungry, relentless waves. His hand tangled in my damp hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head, deepening the kiss until I thought I would melt into him completely.
His mouth claimed mine again and again, each movement demanding, relentless, as if he was pouring every unspoken word, every sleepless night, every repressed desire straight into me.
The heat between us was unbearable, scorching.
His teeth grazed my bottom lip, pulling a sound from me I didn't recognize—soft, helpless,
betraying how much I wanted this.
He swallowed it greedily, kissing me deeper, rougher, as though he'd been waiting an eternity for me to break first.
Leon had no intention of stopping.
His lips devoured mine with burning hunger as he gently pressed me down onto the mattress, his weight above me both suffocating and intoxicating.
The kiss deepened, desperate, as if he were carving his longing into me with every movement of his mouth.
His hand slid beneath my shirt, the rough heat of his palm trailing up my bare skin in agonizing slowness.
I shivered beneath his touch, my body arching instinctively toward him, desperate for more even as my mind screamed that I shouldn't.
A helpless moan slipped from my lips, muffled by the kiss, My fingers tangled in the soft waves of his hair, gripping the back of his head as though I was afraid he'd pull away.
But he didn't.
Leon groaned low in his chest, a sound that vibrated against me as his hand finally reached my breast, his palm cupping it as though it had always belonged to him.
The weight of his touch drew another broken moan from me, and I felt the corners of his lips curve faintly against my skin before his mouth left mine, trailing down my jaw, to my neck.
Hot, desperate kisses marked a path across my damp skin.
He licked, sucked, and bit softly, as though feasting on me, savoring me after being starved for too long.
My head tilted back helplessly, exposing more of myself to him, giving him permission I never meant to give.
"L-Leon…" I gasped, my voice trembling between protest and surrender.
My hand clutched his shoulder tightly, trying to ground myself, to bring him back from the storm he was dragging me into.
But he didn't stop.
His hand kneaded and played with me beneath my clothes while the other drifted lower, caressing the bare skin of my thigh, his palm warm and slow as it slid upward.
His mouth moved higher to my ear, his breath scorching as his teeth grazed my earlobe before he pulled it gently between his lips.
The sharp jolt made me flinch, a whimper escaping before I could stop it.
"Leon!" My voice finally broke louder than my moans, shaking with both need and hesitation.
He froze. Just for a second.
His lips hovered just above mine, his breathing rough, his chest rising and falling heavily as if he was restraining himself with everything he had.
His gaze locked onto me—wild, burning, unrestrained.
His eyes alone stripped me bare, and I felt heat pool in my stomach under that scorching stare.
Raw. Desperate. Unchained.
He looked like a lion on the verge of devouring me, yet waiting—waiting for my permission, my undoing.
"I… I'm—" My words faltered, my lips trembling as I bit down hard, unable to meet his eyes. My heart hammered so loudly I thought it would burst.
Then, in a rush, I covered his eyes with my hands and blurted out,
"I'm on my period!"
The world froze.
His body, which had been so heavy and hot against mine, stilled as if struck by ice.
His breath caught, rough and uneven, but he didn't move, didn't speak.
"I… I'm sorry…" I whispered, my hands still shielding his face, my heart pounding painfully as shame and fear twisted inside me.
Then—softly, unexpectedly—I felt the brush of his lips against my palm.
I gasped.
He kissed me again. And again.
Each kiss gentle, unhurried, worshipful.
He caught my wrist, keeping my hand against his face as he showered it with tenderness until my chest tightened painfully.
When he finally lowered my hand, his gaze found mine again—still burning, but softer now, layered with something dangerous yet tender.
He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, lingering there until my heart clenched.
"Don't say sorry," he whispered, his voice raw but tender.
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close against him as if I might disappear.
He gave one last squeeze at my chest before reluctantly letting go, tugging my shirt back down with care, then lying beside me without breaking the embrace.
"Are you hurt? Do you need anything?" His voice was no longer the growl of a man on the edge but the soft concern of someone who wanted nothing more than to take care of me.
I shook my head faintly, words lost in the rush of emotions flooding me.
I couldn't believe this was Leon—the man who had just moments ago been devouring me with untamed hunger—now holding me like I was fragile, precious, untouchable.
"Can we sleep like this?" His voice was softer now, almost boyish, like a child asking permission to hold onto something he'd longed for.
I lowered my gaze, unable to face the weight of his words.
But even as I nodded, embarrassed, he tilted his head down to catch my lips in a quick, almost playful kiss, then nestled me tighter into his arms.
"Tell me if you feel uncomfortable," he whispered against my ear, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
I closed my eyes, surrendering myself to him, to his warmth, to the terrifying safety of his arms.
Is this really okay?
I thought,
my heart trembling.
To give myself to him like this?
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Or am I already digging another grave for myself?