Amara didn't expect to see him again so soon.
She had thrown herself into work, into friends, into anything that could silence the echo of his words: I can't. Not yet. But every time she closed her eyes, she felt the ghost of his almost-touch, the heat of his gaze.
And then, one stormy night, he was there.
The knock on her door was soft but urgent, as if the person on the other side was fighting with himself even as he knocked. Amara opened it, and her breath caught.
Adrian stood in the rain, shirt damp, eyes blazing like a man on the edge.
Before she could speak, he whispered, "I can't stay away anymore."
The moment felt suspended, heavy with all the words left unsaid. She should have asked him why, should have told him how much his silence had hurt—but instead, she stepped aside.
He entered like a storm carried in on two legs, restless and restless and… hers.
For a long heartbeat, they just stared at each other. The air between them pulsed with electricity, every second pulling them closer.
Then Adrian moved.
His hand cupped her cheek, hesitant at first, as though afraid she might push him away. But when she leaned into his touch, his restraint shattered.
"Amara," he breathed, her name breaking apart on his lips.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative. It was the kiss of a man who had been starving and had finally found water.
His lips claimed hers with a hunger that sent fire through her veins. She gasped against him, her hands clutching at his shirt as if to anchor herself. He deepened the kiss instantly, tilting her head back, devouring every breath she tried to take.
The world fell away. The rain outside, the shadows of the past, the secrets he still held—they meant nothing in this moment. There was only his mouth, hot and demanding against hers, and the way his body trembled like he had been waiting for this far too long.
Her fingers slid up into his hair, tugging, pulling him closer. His answering groan was low, raw, desperate—the sound of surrender.
When he finally tore his lips from hers, it was only to trail them down her jaw, along the sensitive line of her throat. Each touch left her shivering, aching, alive in a way she hadn't felt in years.
"I told myself I'd protect you by staying away," he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and uneven. "But the truth is, I was protecting myself. Because you… you undo me."
Her heart clenched. She tilted his face back up to hers, her eyes fierce despite the tears burning in them.
"Then stop fighting it," she whispered. "Because I'm already yours."
And with that, she pulled him back into another kiss—slower this time, deeper, a promise and a surrender all at once.
That night, they didn't cross every line. But they crossed the one that mattered most—the one that made it impossible to ever go back to what they were before.
It was the kiss that changed everything.