The silence after their last words clung to the room like smoke. Neither Aria nor Leo moved, yet the air between them shifted—thicker, hotter, alive with something unspoken.
Her pulse still hadn't slowed since the way his gaze had locked on hers in Chapter Five, that dangerous mix of hunger and restraint. He had leaned close then, so close she thought his lips would finally brush hers, but he hadn't. He had stopped, just shy of shattering the delicate boundary they both pretended still existed.
Now, she sat across from him, every sense sharpened, every nerve alight.
Leo leaned back in his chair, casual on the surface, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. His fingers tapped against the table once, twice, before stilling. His eyes—those storm-dark eyes—never left hers.
"You keep looking at me like that," he murmured, his voice low, rough velvet. "You'll make me forget myself."
Aria swallowed hard, heat crawling up her neck. She wanted to look away, to escape the intensity burning in his gaze, but she couldn't. Something about Leo held her there, suspended between fear and craving, as if his presence had rewired her body to respond to him alone.
"You say that," she whispered, finally daring to speak, "as if you haven't already forgotten yourself a hundred times tonight."
A shadow of a smile curved his lips, slow and dangerous. "Careful, Aria. You're tempting me."
The way he said her name—like it was something he could taste, something he could consume—made her thighs press together under the table. She hoped he wouldn't notice, but she knew he did. Leo noticed everything.
The room itself seemed complicit in their pull. The air was warm, charged. The single lamp cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the softness of his mouth, the intensity in his eyes. Every detail of him was a temptation she had no defenses against.
Aria leaned forward slightly, unable to stop herself. Her breath caught when his hand moved—slow, deliberate—across the table. He didn't touch her. He just set his hand down, palm up, as if offering something wordless, dangerous.
Her heart pounded. A simple choice lay in front of her: take his hand, and step into the fire, or pull back, and keep pretending she wasn't already burning.
She lifted her hand, trembling despite herself, and let her fingertips brush his. The contact was light, almost nothing, yet it was everything.
Leo's eyes closed briefly, as if that small touch undid him. When he opened them again, the restraint was still there, but it was thinner now, fragile. "Do you have any idea," he said quietly, "what you do to me?"
Her throat was dry. She shook her head, though deep down she thought she might know—because he was doing the same thing to her.
His fingers closed around hers, not tight, but firm enough that she felt claimed. His thumb traced the inside of her wrist, and the delicate stroke sent a shiver racing up her arm.
Aria tried to steady her breathing, but it was impossible. Every second stretched into eternity, and every eternity seemed to beg for something more.
She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to ruin her with it. But he didn't move. He only held her hand, his thumb drawing slow circles, his eyes locked on hers with a promise too dangerous to name.
Leo's thumb kept tracing lazy circles against her skin, but Aria knew it wasn't laziness. It was control. His control. The kind of control that made her wonder how long he could keep himself in check—and how long she could, too.
"You're shaking," he said softly, almost teasing, though his voice carried a heat that made her tremble even more.
"I'm not," she whispered, though her body betrayed her.
"You are." His smile was faint, but his eyes darkened as if her trembling was a secret he relished. "I could stop it, you know. If you'd let me."
Her lips parted. "And if I don't?"
His gaze dipped briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes. "Then you'll keep trembling… and I'll keep enjoying it."
The words sent a rush through her, heat curling low in her stomach. He wasn't just playing with her—he was unraveling her, thread by thread, with nothing but his voice and the ghost of his touch.
Aria tightened her grip on his hand, a silent defiance, but his smirk only deepened. He leaned forward then, so close the lamplight caught the strands of his dark hair and turned them to ink.
"Aria…" His whisper was her undoing. Her name on his lips was no longer just a name—it was a plea, a warning, and a promise all at once.
Her body tilted toward him as if pulled by gravity. She could feel the heat of his breath brushing her cheek, the sharp thrum of anticipation tightening her chest. If either of them moved another inch, the space between them would be gone.
But Leo didn't close that inch. He let it hang there, unbearable, delicious. "Tell me to stop," he said, low, rough. "Tell me to let go of your hand, to step back, to end this."
She stared at him, every nerve screaming for his mouth, his touch, his everything. But the words he asked for—the words that would stop him—refused to form.
Her silence was all the answer he needed.
Leo's hand left hers only to rise, slow as smoke, until his knuckles brushed her cheek. The lightest touch, as though he was memorizing the shape of her face. "God, you're dangerous," he murmured, more to himself than to her.
A laugh, breathless and shaky, slipped from her lips. "I'm the dangerous one?"
"Yes." His thumb skimmed the corner of her mouth, so careful she almost thought she imagined it. "Because you make me want things I shouldn't."
Her heart twisted at the words. There it was again—that shadow of something unsaid, something forbidden lingering beneath his every touch. She wanted to ask, What things? Why shouldn't you? But she couldn't. The moment was too fragile, too close to shattering if she pushed too far.
Instead, she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes for just a second, savoring the heat of his skin against hers. "Then maybe we're both dangerous," she whispered.
For the first time, his control cracked. His hand slid into her hair, fingers tangling gently but possessively. She gasped at the intimacy of it, at the way he tilted her face up to his, as though he couldn't resist anymore.
Her eyes fluttered open just as his lips hovered above hers.
"Aria…" His voice broke on her name, raw with restraint. "You have no idea how much I want to ruin you."
Her breath caught at his confession, the rawness of it striking deeper than any touch could. Ruin me. The words reverberated through her chest, equal parts fear and thrill, and she realized she didn't care if it meant falling, burning, or breaking—if it was with him.
"You say that," she whispered, her voice trembling, "as if I wouldn't let you."
His eyes flared, sharp with something wild, something hungry. For a heartbeat, he didn't move, as though the world itself held still, waiting. Then his forehead touched hers, the smallest point of contact, but it sent shivers rippling down her spine.
"Don't tempt me," he breathed. His hand tightened in her hair, not harsh, but firm, anchoring her in place as if he feared she'd disappear. "You don't know how close I am to losing it."
Aria's lips parted, aching, ready—her body begging for the kiss he still denied. The heat between them pressed like a storm about to break, unbearable in its restraint.
"Then lose it," she dared, though her voice was barely more than air.
A low sound rumbled from his chest, half a growl, half a laugh—pained, wanting, torn. His nose brushed along hers, his lips hovering a breath away, but again he stopped.
"I can't," he said, as though the words wounded him. His hand slipped from her hair to her jaw, holding her face like something precious, fragile. "You don't understand—if I start, I won't stop."
Her heart hammered so hard it almost hurt. She didn't fully understand what line he was so desperate not to cross, what secret he was hiding behind those eyes—but she knew this: she wanted him to cross it anyway.
Her fingers curled around his wrist where he held her, not to push him away, but to keep him there. To tell him without words that she wasn't afraid.
"I don't want you to stop," she whispered.
The silence that followed was a living thing, dense and electric. His chest rose and fell sharply, his grip on her tightening like a man clinging to the last thread of sanity.
Then, slowly, agonizingly, he pulled back.
Aria blinked, stunned, breathless. "Leo—"
"Not yet," he said, his voice ragged, like it cost him to say it. He released her jaw, his hand dragging down her arm, his fingers brushing hers before letting go entirely. "If I take you now, it won't be enough. And you deserve more than just my hunger."
Her chest ached with the weight of his restraint. She wanted to argue, to beg, to demand he stop torturing her with this unbearable tension—but his words disarmed her. Because he wasn't rejecting her. He was protecting her, even from himself.
And somehow, that made her want him even more.
She sat back slowly, her body still humming from the nearness of him. He leaned back too, but his eyes never left hers. The storm in them had only darkened, and she knew this wasn't over.
If anything, it was just beginning.
The silence that followed their pullback wasn't empty—it was suffocating. The room seemed to hum with everything left unsaid, every touch denied. Aria's skin still tingled where his fingers had lingered, her lips still ached for the kiss that hadn't come.
She forced herself to look away, to steady her racing thoughts, but the effort was useless. She could feel Leo's gaze on her like heat, pressing against her even as he sat across the small table, trying to rebuild the wall he'd almost let collapse.
"You always do this," she said at last, her voice softer than she meant it to be.
He tilted his head, shadows catching the sharp line of his jaw. "Do what?"
"You bring me close, so close I can't breathe…" She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "…and then you pull away."
For a moment, he didn't answer. His silence was heavy, deliberate. Then he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Because if I don't, I'll lose everything."
Her heart clenched. "Everything?"
His lips curved, but there was no amusement in it—only something pained, restrained. "You don't understand, Aria. You can't."
"Then make me understand," she whispered.
He inhaled sharply, his hand flexing on the table as if resisting the urge to reach for her again. For a second, she thought he would say it—spill whatever secret he guarded so fiercely—but then he shook his head. "Not tonight."
Frustration sparked hot in her chest. She hated the way he dangled truth like a prize she couldn't claim. And yet, she also hated how much she wanted him anyway.
"Fine," she said, pushing back her chair. The scrape of wood against the floor sounded louder than it should have, sharp in the silence. She stood, her body trembling with a mix of anger and longing. "Keep your secrets. Pretend you're protecting me. But don't think I don't see what you're doing."
Leo rose too, quick, fluid, a predator closing the space before she could take a step. He loomed over her, his height and presence suffocating and intoxicating all at once. His hand slammed against the wall just beside her head, not touching her, but caging her in.
Her breath caught, her back pressing to the wall as his shadow fell over her.
"You think this is easy for me?" His voice was low, rough, but shaking with something rawer than anger. His free hand hovered near her face, trembling before it finally brushed her cheek. "You think I don't want you? Every second I'm near you, I'm fighting myself. Fighting not to take what I shouldn't."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. His words struck her like lightning, illuminating everything she'd only guessed at before.
"You drive me insane, Aria," he whispered, his forehead lowering until it nearly touched hers. "Every laugh, every look, every time you breathe near me… it tears at me. And if I let go—" His jaw tightened, his voice breaking. "I won't stop."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. She should have been afraid of his intensity, but instead it only pulled her deeper. She reached up, her fingers brushing his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath the thin fabric.
"Then don't stop," she said, her voice shaking but certain. "Maybe I don't want you to."
His eyes slammed shut, a ragged sound escaping him. For a moment, he stood utterly still, as if her words had undone him. His hand inched lower, brushing along her jawline, tracing down her throat until his fingertips hovered at the base of her neck.
Aria's breath hitched, her entire body screaming for more, for him.
But then, once again, he stilled. His hand clenched into a fist before dropping away entirely. He stepped back, the space between them opening like a wound.
"No," he said harshly, though the pain in his voice betrayed him. "Not like this."
Her chest tightened, disappointment and confusion crashing into her. She wanted to scream, to demand why he kept torturing them both. Instead, she pressed her back harder against the wall, closing her eyes to steady herself.
When she opened them, he was staring at her with something almost broken in his gaze.
"This pull between us," he said softly, "it's going to destroy me."
Aria's throat tightened at his words, the rawness in them cutting deeper than any kiss might have. Destroy him. Was that what this was? A love that tasted like danger, like something too powerful for either of them to contain?
"Maybe," she said softly, finding her voice again, "maybe it'll destroy me too."
The admission slipped out before she could catch it, bare and vulnerable, hanging between them like a secret she hadn't meant to confess.
Leo flinched—not outwardly, not dramatically, but in the subtle tightening of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes. He looked away for the first time, dragging a hand down his face as though he was exhausted from holding himself together.
"Aria…" He shook his head, but when his gaze returned to hers, it was blazing, torn between fury and longing. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Yes, I do." Her voice wavered, but her stare didn't break. "I've known from the moment I saw you."
He stilled. His chest rose sharply, his breath ragged, as though her words had knocked the air out of him.
For a long moment, silence thickened again, heavy and suffocating. He was the first to move—stepping closer, slow and deliberate, until the wall behind her trapped her in his shadow once more.
His hand lifted, this time steady, and cupped her face. His thumb stroked along her cheekbone, gentle despite the fire in his eyes. "You're going to ruin me," he whispered.
Her lips parted, a trembling breath escaping. "Then let me."
The sound he made was low, guttural, as though he was fighting with every ounce of his will. He bent his head, so close that his breath fanned over her lips, hot and intoxicating. Their mouths hovered—an inch, a whisper, a heartbeat apart.
Aria's body screamed for him to close that last distance, to end this unbearable ache. Her hands rose of their own accord, sliding against his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt. She felt the muscles tighten beneath her fingers, the heat of him seeping into her skin.
"Say it," he demanded, voice rough against her lips. "Say you want me to lose control."
Her eyes fluttered shut, her voice trembling but certain. "I want you."
That was all it took.
Leo crushed forward, but even then—even then—his lips didn't meet hers. Instead, his mouth hovered just at the corner of her lips, grazing the edge in maddening restraint. He pressed there, once, twice, a ghost of a kiss that left her trembling more than if he had devoured her outright.
Her gasp slipped between them, raw and aching. "Leo…"
"Not yet," he murmured against her skin, his breath scalding. His mouth drifted to her jaw, pressing another barely-there kiss, then lower, to the curve of her throat. Each touch was restrained, featherlight, designed to unravel her slowly.
Her knees weakened, her body arching instinctively toward him, but his hand at her hip steadied her—held her in place, as though reminding her who controlled this dangerous dance.
"You taste like temptation," he whispered against her skin, his lips brushing her pulse but never pressing fully. "And if I start, I'll never stop."
Aria's fingers tightened in his shirt, pulling him closer despite his warning. "Then don't stop," she begged, the words spilling out before she could bite them back.
He groaned softly, his breath catching against her throat, and for a second she thought he might finally break, might finally give in and claim her the way her body craved.
But again, he pulled back.
Slowly, painfully, his lips lifted from her skin, his hand leaving her hip. The space he created felt like ice rushing in where fire had been.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her entire body still trembling. "Why do you keep torturing me like this?" she demanded, her voice breaking.
His eyes were wild, darkened to a storm. "Because I want you too much. Because if I touch you the way I want…" His throat worked, his voice raw. "There will be no going back."
Her heart clenched at the truth in his tone, the desperation and fear woven into his restraint. He wasn't just holding back for himself—he was holding back for her.
And that, somehow, made her ache for him even more.
Aria stared at him, her breath ragged, her pulse pounding in her ears. He looked like a man standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing one step further would send him into free fall.
And maybe that was exactly what she wanted—to fall with him.
"Leo," she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Stop deciding for me. If this is dangerous, if it's madness… let me choose it too."
For a moment, his composure cracked. The mask of control, of restraint, slipped enough for her to glimpse the hunger underneath. His chest rose sharply as he studied her, as though memorizing every curve of her face, every tremor of her lips.
"You'll regret it," he muttered, but the words lacked conviction.
She lifted her chin, meeting his stare. "No. What I'll regret… is walking away."
Something inside him broke then—a flicker of surrender in his eyes, a faint curse escaping his lips. He reached for her again, but this time it wasn't to kiss her. His fingers laced with hers, firm and grounding, as though tethering them both to reality.
"You drive me insane," he said hoarsely. "Every second I'm near you, I'm fighting myself. I don't know how much longer I can—"
"Then don't fight," she interrupted, her voice trembling but fierce.
The silence that followed was unbearable, thick with all the words they hadn't yet spoken, all the desires they hadn't yet unleashed.
Finally, Leo dropped his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling, hot and uneven. He didn't kiss her—he still didn't kiss her—but the intimacy of the gesture made her heart ache more than any embrace.
"I'm going to ruin you," he whispered again, softer this time. A confession, not a warning.
"Maybe," she breathed. "But I'll ruin you too."
His answering laugh was low, broken, almost disbelieving. He lingered there, forehead pressed to hers, fingers entwined, as though the simple act of being close without breaking was both heaven and hell.
Minutes—or hours, she couldn't tell—slipped by like that. The world outside ceased to matter. There was only his breath, his warmth, the maddening nearness that never tipped into satisfaction.
And in that aching tension, Aria realized something terrifying and beautiful:
The anticipation was its own kind of intimacy.
The waiting, the restraint, the aching denial—it was binding them tighter than any kiss ever could.
The silence stretched as Leo finally stepped back, though the air between them still pulsed with everything unsaid. His hand lingered at her wrist, sliding away reluctantly until only the heat of his touch remained on her skin.
The room suddenly felt too small, too charged. Aria's chest rose and fell, trying to steady itself, but every breath only drew in more of him. The faint scent of his cologne clung to the air—dark, clean, and maddeningly male.
He turned away first, dragging a hand through his hair as if to loosen the tension tightening around him. "I need… space," he muttered, though his tone was rough, unconvincing.
Aria didn't follow immediately. Instead, she watched him—watched the way his shoulders tensed, the way his body betrayed the restraint he tried so hard to cling to. He wasn't walking away because he didn't want her. He was walking away because he wanted her too much.
And that knowledge made her bold.
When he moved toward the small lamp near the couch and switched it on, the room bloomed with a muted amber glow. Shadows stretched along the walls, and the golden light carved out his features—his strong jaw, his furrowed brow, the sharp line of his mouth pressed into something dangerously close to frustration.
"Space won't help," Aria said softly. Her voice trembled, but the words came steady. She crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate, her bare feet silent against the floor. "You can put distance between us, Leo. But it doesn't change what's already here."
His back stiffened, but he didn't turn to face her. His hand gripped the edge of the table as though grounding himself. "You don't understand," he said, his voice low, heavy.
"Then make me understand."
That made him turn. His eyes—God, those eyes—met hers, storm-dark and blazing with things he wouldn't say. For a long moment, he just looked at her, his jaw tight, his chest rising sharply as though the fight inside him was at war with itself.
Finally, he spoke. "I've lost control before," he said, barely more than a whisper, but the weight of it filled the room. "With someone else. I swore I wouldn't let it happen again."
The confession sent a strange ache through her chest—jealousy, maybe, or the sting of being compared to a ghost she didn't know. But it was more than that. It was the rawness in his tone, the guilt in his eyes.
"What happened?" she asked gently, stepping closer.
He shook his head, running a hand over his face. "It doesn't matter. She left. Because I wasn't enough of what she wanted—and too much of what she feared."
Aria's throat tightened. The image of some faceless woman walking away from him felt unbearable, though she had no claim to feel that way. Still, she stepped closer until the shadows blurred around them and the only thing sharp was him.
"Leo," she murmured, her voice steady despite the storm inside her, "I'm not her. And you don't get to decide how much of you I can take."
His eyes softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the storm. For a moment, he looked younger, less guarded, almost wounded.
"You think you want this," he said, his voice trembling with restraint. "But if I let go—if I stop holding back—you'll see the worst of me."
Aria reached for him then, her fingers brushing his hand where it rested on the table. The contact was small, almost timid, but it made his whole body tense.
"Then show me," she whispered. "Because I'd rather have the worst of you than nothing at all."
The silence that followed was deafening. His hand turned under hers, his fingers catching hers, gripping tight. Not gentle this time. Not tentative. It was the hold of a man who had been starved of touch and was afraid of devouring too much.
His eyes burned into hers, and she thought he might finally give in—might finally close the unbearable distance.
But then—
A vibration cut through the moment.
Leo's phone, buzzing against the table.
Aria's gaze flicked down without meaning to, and her stomach clenched. A name glowed on the screen—Elena.
The sound seemed louder than it should have been, slicing through the intimacy, the silence, the fragile surrender he'd been on the verge of.
Leo's grip on her hand faltered. His jaw clenched as he tore his gaze away from her and reached for the phone. He silenced it without answering, shoving it face-down on the table.
But Aria had already seen.
Her chest tightened with something hot, sharp, and unfamiliar. She tried to school her expression, but the weight of it pressed too hard. Jealousy. Ugly, raw jealousy for a name she didn't know, a woman who wasn't hers to resent—but the emotion blazed anyway.
She pulled her hand back before he could notice the tremor in her fingers. "You should answer," she said, though her tone betrayed her.
"I don't want to," he replied, his voice low, clipped, final. His eyes found hers again, darker now, heavier. "She doesn't matter."
But the shadow had already seeped in between them.
Aria bit her lip, heat crawling up her throat. "Then why does she think she can call you like that?"
Leo stilled. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, and then his lips curved—just faintly, just enough for her to feel mocked by it.
"Are you jealous, Aria?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with something dangerous.
Her breath caught. She wanted to deny it, to scoff, to laugh it off. But the truth glared too brightly, and her silence was all the answer he needed.
His hand lifted, fingers brushing her jaw in a touch that was both tender and possessive. "Good," he murmured. "Because I don't like the thought of anyone else even looking at you."
The confession sent her reeling—half terrified, half exhilarated. Her jealousy had dragged his own into the open, and it was darker, sharper, more consuming than she'd expected.
And God help her, she wanted it.
Aria's breath faltered at the brush of his fingers against her jaw. The weight of his words hung heavy, simmering with danger and tenderness all at once. I don't like the thought of anyone else even looking at you.
Something inside her twisted, equal parts fear and thrill.
"Leo…" she whispered, her voice trembling under the gravity of his stare.
He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Don't look away. Not when you're burning like this."
Her pulse roared in her ears. Every nerve felt strung tight, pulled taut between the ache of wanting and the sting of restraint. She could still feel the ghost of that name—Elena—scraping at the edges of her thoughts, fanning the flames of her jealousy even as she told herself she had no right.
"You say she doesn't matter," Aria murmured, searching his face. "But you won't tell me who she is."
Something flickered in his expression—hesitation, maybe even guilt. But then his thumb brushed her lower lip, silencing the question before it could dig deeper.
"She isn't important," he said, the edge of command in his tone daring her to challenge him. "What matters is right here."
Aria's breath hitched as his touch lingered, his thumb pressing gently against her mouth until she had to part her lips. The intimacy of it sent a shiver racing down her spine, her body betraying her need even as her mind spun with doubt.
"I don't like it," she confessed softly. Her voice was fragile, trembling. "The thought of you with someone else. The thought of someone else knowing how it feels to—" She broke off, her cheeks flaming, unable to finish.
His eyes darkened, his hand slipping to cup her face fully, holding her still as if he needed her to hear every word.
"No one else has this," he said, low and fierce. "No one else has me like this."
The certainty in his voice knocked the air from her lungs. She wanted to believe him, wanted to let that reassurance sink into the cracks of her jealousy—but the intensity of it frightened her too.
"Then why are you still holding back?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
His jaw tightened, his thumb stroking absently over her cheek. "Because once I give in, I'll never let you go. And I don't know if you're ready for that."
Her heart lurched, pounding so hard it hurt. She thought of all the moments they'd shared already—the stolen glances, the almost-kisses, the unbearable restraint that had only pulled them deeper into each other's orbit.
Maybe she wasn't ready. Maybe no one could ever be ready for something that burned this dangerously bright.
But God, she wanted it anyway.
She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. "Then let me decide what I'm ready for."
The silence that followed was a battle—between his restraint and his desire, his fear and his need. His grip on her face tightened, not harsh, but desperate, as though she was the only thing tethering him to the ground.
"You don't know what you're asking," he rasped.
"I do," she insisted, her voice steady now. "I'm asking you not to hide from me."
For a moment, she thought he might kiss her at last—his gaze dropped to her lips, his breath mingling with hers, the space between them unbearable. Her whole body leaned forward in anticipation, trembling on the edge.
But then—he drew back, just barely, his hand falling away from her face as though the touch burned him.
Aria's chest ached at the loss.
"Damn it," he muttered, pacing a step away, raking his hand through his hair again. The golden light from the lamp threw shadows across his face, hardening his features, making him look like a man carved from conflict.
Her hands clenched at her sides, frustration and longing warring within her. "You can't keep doing this, Leo. Pulling me close, then pushing me away. Do you have any idea what it feels like?"
He stopped, his back to her, his shoulders rigid. When he finally turned, his eyes blazed.
"Yes," he said harshly. "Because it's tearing me apart too."
The rawness in his voice silenced her anger. He wasn't torturing her out of cruelty. He was torturing himself just as much.
Something softened in her then. She crossed the room slowly, her steps careful, her chest tight. When she reached him, she placed her hand lightly on his arm.
"Then stop fighting it," she whispered.
He stared down at her hand on him, his chest heaving. Slowly, he covered her hand with his own, pressing it against him as if he needed her touch to anchor him.
His voice, when it came, was low and rough. "If I stop… there's no turning back."
Her heart hammered, but she didn't flinch. "Then don't turn back."
The words hung between them, dangerous and irresistible. His hand tightened over hers, his eyes burning into hers, and for a moment the world seemed to fall away.
The storm between them had never been closer to breaking
Leo's grip on her hand was unyielding, his eyes locked on hers as if she was both his salvation and his undoing. The weight of his words still hung in the air—if I stop, there's no turning back.
Aria swallowed, her pulse racing. She wanted to push, to beg, to pull him across the final line of restraint—but she also saw it in his eyes, the way his control dangled by a fraying thread. One wrong move, and they'd both tumble into something neither could undo.
"I don't want you to turn back," she whispered again, firmer this time, her voice carrying a conviction that startled even her. "Not now. Not ever."
His jaw clenched, his thumb brushing absently over the back of her hand. For a man who exuded such strength, such deliberate control, there was a tremor in him now, a fracture in his calm.
"You don't know what forever with me looks like," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "You think it's all fire and heat. But there are darker parts of me, Aria. Parts that…" He broke off, his eyes narrowing, as though the admission itself was too dangerous to finish.
Her breath hitched, but she didn't step back. Instead, she reached up with her free hand, daring to touch his chest. The warmth of him seeped into her palm, steady and strong beneath her fingers. "Then show me those parts. Stop protecting me from a choice that isn't yours to make."
For a long moment, he just stared at her, his chest rising sharply under her touch. The lamp's amber glow caught the hard planes of his face, the shadow in his eyes, the rawness of his restraint.
Then, slowly, his hand lifted and cupped the side of her neck. His thumb brushed over the delicate line of her throat, not pressing, not claiming—just a ghost of touch that made her pulse leap beneath it.
"You're playing with fire," he whispered, the warning little more than a caress.
"Then burn me," she whispered back, her voice breaking on the edge of desperation.
Something snapped in him then—not fully, but enough. His hand tightened just slightly at her throat, his forehead pressing to hers again. Their breaths mingled, ragged and uneven, their lips so close it was torture.
But once again, he denied the kiss.
Aria almost cried out in frustration, her fingers curling into his shirt. She could feel the storm in him, the battle between wanting and restraint, and it left her trembling.
"You make me jealous," he confessed suddenly, his voice harsh in its honesty. "The thought of anyone else having your attention—your smile, your time—it drives me insane."
Her heart thudded violently at the confession. She'd felt his possessiveness before, hinted at in every lingering look, every subtle claim. But hearing it—raw and unpolished—sent heat rushing through her veins.
"Good," she whispered fiercely. "Because the thought of anyone else touching you makes me sick."
His breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, the control in his eyes shattered.
It was there—the brink, the edge, the place where they could both tumble into something all-consuming.
But with a shuddering exhale, he pulled his hand from her throat and stepped back just enough to leave her gasping at the absence.
"Not tonight," he rasped, his voice thick with regret. "If I take you now, I won't be able to stop. And I can't give you just a piece of me, Aria. You deserve all of it—or nothing."
Her chest ached, but beneath the ache was something steadier, something anchoring. Because for all his restraint, for all the frustration of being denied, his words carried a promise.
All of him.
And she realized she would wait—for as long as it took.
The Edge of Restraint
The silence between them swelled, thick and heavy like velvet pressing against the walls. The faint golden glow of the lamp painted Leo's sharp profile in shifting shadows, the hollows of his cheek and jawline more dangerous, more untouchable than ever.
Aria sat perched on the edge of the couch, knees drawn close, fingers knotted together to stop them from trembling. She could still feel the ghost of his earlier touch—his hand on her wrist, the rough brush of his knuckles against her thigh—as though her skin had memorized every second and now refused to let go.
Leo hadn't moved in minutes. He stood by the window, one hand braced against the sill, his shoulders broad and tense, his body locked in a restraint that both terrified and thrilled her.
"Why are you doing this?" she finally whispered.
His head turned slightly, but his gaze stayed fixed on the glass. "Doing what?"
"Keeping me here like this. Looking at me like you want to devour me one second… and then pulling back as if I'm untouchable the next."
The words tumbled out sharper than she intended, but the ache in her chest was too strong to cage. She needed to know. Needed to tear down the wall he kept building between them.
Leo's jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as if the answer cost him something to hold back. At last, he turned fully toward her. His eyes were darker than the night outside, and she felt them cut through her.
"Because if I start," he said quietly, "I won't stop."
The confession hit her like a shiver. It wasn't arrogance. It wasn't some teasing line. It was a truth—raw, restrained, and dangerous.
Aria's breath stuttered. She didn't know if she wanted him to stop. Every inch of her body screamed for him not to.
"Maybe I don't want you to," she said, her voice trembling but steady enough to draw him closer.
His steps toward her were deliberate, each one measured like a predator stalking prey, but she didn't feel fear. She felt the heat of him even before he lowered himself in front of her, one knee bent against the floor, his height still dominating the space between them.
He reached out slowly, like he was testing himself, and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. The back of his knuckles lingered, trailing down until they hovered just above her lips.
Her lips parted instinctively, a small, desperate breath escaping.
"Aria…" Her name came out low, strained, almost like a warning.
"Yes?" she breathed.
His thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, barely touching, yet it felt like fire. His control was palpable, every muscle tight, every breath measured, as though he were holding back the force of a storm inside him.
"I don't play with fire," he murmured. "I burn with it."
And still, he didn't kiss her.
The restraint was maddening.
Aria lifted her chin, her heart hammering, and let her own hand rise to cover his where it cupped her cheek. Her skin buzzed at the contact, electricity sparking along her nerves.
"You think I'm afraid of fire?" she whispered, tilting her face closer so their noses nearly brushed.
Leo's eyes narrowed slightly, his breath rough as it mingled with hers. Their lips were a breath apart, so close she could almost taste him, but still he pulled back—just an inch, just enough to make her whimper.
The sound slipped out before she could catch it, soft and desperate.
His grip tightened on her jaw, not harsh but firm enough to tell her he heard it. His thumb pressed against her chin, tilting her face up, holding her there as if he owned the moment.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he said, voice deep and ragged.
"Then show me," she shot back, surprising even herself with the force behind the words.
For the first time, his composure cracked. His gaze flickered down to her mouth, lingering there, hungry and conflicted. She swore she felt the tremor in his fingers, the war raging inside him.
But then—another crack in the silence.
A phone buzzed on the table beside them, sharp and intrusive.
Leo's hand dropped instantly, his body pulling away like a shadow retreating into itself. His eyes flashed, unreadable, as he reached for the device.
Aria's stomach twisted when she glimpsed the screen. A name lit up—female, unfamiliar.
Her chest tightened. The air thickened with something bitter, sharper than the desire curling in her veins.
Leo saw her expression and stilled, phone still vibrating in his hand. "It's not what you think," he said quickly.
But he didn't answer the call. He didn't explain either. He just set the phone down, face down this time, the light extinguished.
Her heart pounded, a different kind of ache burning now. Jealousy. Unwanted, ugly, but undeniably there.
She swallowed hard, her voice small but steady. "Do you… do you belong to someone else?"
The question lodged itself between them like a blade.
Leo stared at her for a long time, his silence unbearable. Then, finally, he leaned forward, so close that his breath warmed the shell of her ear.
"If I belonged to anyone," he said softly, "I wouldn't be here."
A shiver ran through her, both relief and something darker. His words didn't soothe completely—they only added to the mystery, the ache of wanting more answers, more of him.
Aria tried to hold his gaze, but it was too much. The tension, the hunger, the flicker of jealousy she couldn't hide. She looked away, hugging her knees tighter.
Leo's hand hovered near her again, as if he wanted to touch her but couldn't allow himself. His restraint was ironclad, yet she could see the cracks forming.
"You drive me insane," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "And I don't know if that makes me weaker… or stronger."
Her pulse jumped. She wanted to reach for him, to tear down every barrier he kept raising. But instead, she whispered the truth burning her from the inside.
"You make me feel alive. And I hate that you keep pulling it away from me."
The words hung heavy in the air, heavier than any kiss could have been.
Leo's breath left him in a sharp exhale, and he pushed off the floor, pacing a short, taut line across the narrow space. His movements were restless, like a caged animal searching for a way out that didn't exist.
Aria watched him, her chest aching with every step he took away from her. The room was too small for distance, yet every inch he claimed away from her felt like a chasm opening up between them.
Finally, he turned, his eyes burning, his jaw set hard. "You think this is easy for me?" His voice was low, rough, edged with frustration.
She blinked, startled. "Easy? You make it impossible."
"Exactly." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands as though the act could release some of the tension knotted tight inside him. "I've spent years learning how to keep control. How to never let desire rule me. And then you walk in, and every rule I've built starts tearing itself apart."
Her lips parted, her pulse loud in her ears. "And you think I don't feel the same?"
The words came out trembling but strong, driven by the ache inside her. "Every time you look at me, every time you touch me—" she faltered, biting her lip before the confession broke through anyway—"it's like I'm already yours. And I don't even know if you'll let me be."
His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and consuming. He crossed the space in two strides, standing over her with a force that made her breath hitch. His hand pressed against the back of the couch near her head, his other hand curling into a fist at his side, trembling with restraint.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he repeated, but this time it wasn't a warning. It was a plea.
Aria tilted her face up, her eyes locking onto his. "Then tell me."
Leo froze. She had thrown the blade back into his hands. His silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until finally he lowered himself again—this time slower, his body folding closer until their knees brushed, until her breath shivered against his chest.
His hand rose, hesitated, then cupped her cheek once more. But this time he didn't pull away. His thumb stroked across her lower lip, teasing, holding her there as if he needed to memorize her face.
"I've wanted you," he confessed, voice ragged, "since the moment I saw you. Every second after has been torture."
Aria's heart slammed against her ribs. She wanted to close the last inch between them, to shatter the fragile restraint. But he still held the reins, keeping her suspended on the edge of fire.
Her lips brushed against his thumb as she whispered, "Then stop torturing both of us."
His eyes darkened, his breath hitched, and for one dizzying second she thought he would finally give in. His face dipped closer, his nose skimming hers, his mouth so close she could taste the heat of him.
But again—again—he stopped.
Aria's chest tightened, frustration and longing mingling like poison. A broken sound slipped from her throat, half plea, half anger.
Leo's hand slid from her cheek to her neck, fingers curling against her pulse. His touch was firm, grounding, making her feel owned in a way that sent shivers down her spine. His lips brushed the shell of her ear as he whispered, "If I cross this line, I won't let you go. Not tonight, not ever."
Her breath shuddered out of her, her body trembling. She leaned into his touch, desperate, her voice barely audible. "Then don't."
The silence that followed was unbearable. His chest rose and fell against hers, his body vibrating with the war raging inside him.
And then—he pulled back.
Not far, just enough to leave her gasping at the loss. His hand lingered against her throat before dropping away, leaving the ghost of his touch burning into her skin.
Her eyes filled with heat—frustration, hurt, desire—all tangled together. "Why do you keep stopping?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
His jaw tightened, his gaze flickering with a storm she couldn't read. "Because once I start, there's no undoing it. And part of me still wonders if you're ready for that."
The words sank into her like a weight, but they weren't rejection. They were a challenge. A promise wrapped in fear.
Aria leaned forward, closing the space he had left. Her hands rose to his chest, flattening against the steady hammer of his heartbeat. She could feel the heat beneath his shirt, the raw strength coiled there.
"I'm not afraid of you," she whispered. "I'm afraid of never knowing what this could be."
His breath stilled.
For the first time, Leo's control wavered visibly. His eyes shut briefly, his jaw slackened, and when he opened them again, the hunger there was almost feral.
His hands came down hard against the couch on either side of her, caging her in. The motion stole her breath, his nearness flooding her senses. She could see the veins in his neck, the tension in his arms, the raw heat blazing in his gaze.
And yet—still—he didn't claim her mouth.
Instead, he lowered his head until his lips hovered against her temple, his breath rough and shaking. "You'll drive me to ruin," he murmured.
Aria closed her eyes, her throat tight. "Then ruin me with you."
The words snapped the air in half. His body went rigid, and for one dizzying moment she thought he would finally break.
But once more—he pulled back, dragging himself away with a growl of frustration, as though distance was the only thing keeping him sane.
He raked a hand down his face, then through his hair, pacing again like a man haunted. "Damn it, Aria…" His voice was harsh, low. "You don't understand. This isn't a game. If I let you in—if I take you the way I want—you'll never look at me the same again."
She rose from the couch, her knees trembling but her resolve steady. She crossed the space between them, forcing him to face her. Her hands caught his wrist, stopping his restless pacing.
"Then stop deciding for me," she said fiercely. "Stop pulling away when you know I want you just as much."
Leo froze, her touch anchoring him. His chest heaved, his eyes locking onto hers with a force that made her heart stutter.
The silence burned. Every second stretched, until the air itself felt ready to shatter.
And then—without another word—he pulled his wrist free, not harshly, but with finality. His steps carried him back toward the door, his shoulders rigid.
Aria's breath caught. "Leo—"
He turned at the threshold, his expression unreadable, carved in shadow and light.
"This isn't over," he said, voice low and dangerous. "But if we keep going tonight, I won't be able to stop. And I don't know what that will make of us."
The door closed behind him, leaving Aria trembling in the heavy silence.
Her fingers touched her lips, burning with the kiss that almost was. Her heart thudded against her chest, torn between longing and fear, between the ache of denial and the certainty of what waited on the other side of his restraint.
This wasn't the end. It was only the beginning.
The Pull of His Return
The silence was too loud.
Aria sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her knees drawn together, her hands twisted in her lap as though the pressure might stop the shivering that hadn't left her since he walked out. The door had closed quietly behind him, but its echo lingered, a dull thud that reverberated through her chest.
She told herself to breathe. To calm down. To pull herself together.
But her chest rose and fell unevenly, as if the very air conspired to remind her of him — of his scent, of the brush of his breath against her ear, of the way his eyes had burned as if they'd stripped her bare without ever touching her.
She hated how empty the room felt without him.
A small, broken laugh escaped her lips. "Pathetic," she whispered to herself. He'd left, and already her body ached as though it had been abandoned, as though she had been starved.
Aria rose to her feet and crossed to the window. The night pressed against the glass, dark and endless, the stars scattered like secrets no one dared to tell. She touched the pane, cool against her fingers, and closed her eyes.
She could still feel him.
That was the cruelest part. Her skin burned in phantom memory, recalling every almost-touch. His restraint had been a weapon sharper than desire itself. He could have had her — God, she had wanted him to — but instead he'd pulled back, left her trembling, restless, undone.
Her heart clenched.
Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he had only been toying with her, a cruel little game of push and pull. Maybe she was a fool to think the way he looked at her meant anything more than lust.
She pressed her forehead against the glass, biting her lip so hard it hurt. The ache between her thighs mocked her, the raw, restless need that refused to fade no matter how she willed it.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time blurred when the silence became too heavy.
And then—
The door creaked.
Her head snapped around.
Leo stood in the doorway.
He hadn't knocked. He hadn't even hesitated. He filled the frame as if he owned it, his shoulders broad, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm too sharp, too deliberate. His eyes locked on hers instantly — and God, they were darker than before, storm-tossed and wild.
"Leo—" Her voice cracked, her throat dry.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The air shifted.
It was thicker now, charged, as though the walls themselves knew what was about to happen. His gaze raked over her, not in idle appreciation, but with the desperation of a man who had fought a war with himself and lost.
"I tried to leave." His voice was low, rough, almost dangerous. "I thought if I walked away, it would fade. That I'd breathe and forget the way you looked at me."
Her heart thundered. "And?"
His jaw flexed, his fists clenching at his sides. "And I couldn't."
He moved closer. Not in long strides, but in measured, deliberate steps — each one stealing the air from her lungs, each one tightening the noose of anticipation around her.
She backed up instinctively, her spine pressing against the cold wall.
He stopped only a breath away, his presence drowning out everything else.
"You drive me insane," he murmured. His hand lifted, hovered by her cheek, but didn't touch. The restraint was maddening. "Every second I'm near you, I want to break. To take. To—" His voice faltered, as though the words themselves threatened to undo him.
Her lips parted. She could taste the heat between them, heavy and unspoken. "Then why don't you?"
The question hung, trembling, daring.
His hand trembled in the air, still not touching her, as if the final inch between them was the only thing keeping him from complete ruin. His eyes locked on hers, searching, pleading, warning all at once.
"Because," he said hoarsely, "if I start… I won't stop."
Aria's pulse roared in her ears. The wall was cold at her back, but she barely felt it. All she knew was the heat radiating from Leo, the storm in his eyes, the tremor in his hand that hovered so close to her skin it was torture.
If he touched her, even for a second—
Her body leaned into the air between them, begging without shame. "Leo…" His name slipped out as little more than a plea.
The sound broke him.
With a rough exhale, his palm found her cheek. The warmth of his skin against hers made her gasp. His thumb traced the edge of her jaw, slow and reverent, as though he were memorizing the shape of her face. The gentleness warred with the tension straining through his body, muscles taut, breath uneven.
"You don't know what you're asking," he murmured, though the words lacked conviction. His forehead lowered until it rested against hers, and she felt the shudder that ran through him.
Her lips brushed his as she whispered back, "I do."
The smallest touch — a ghost of contact — but it set her ablaze.
His other hand slammed against the wall beside her head, caging her in, the restraint barely holding. She could feel the restraint as a living thing, vibrating in every tense line of his body. His lips hovered over hers, the breath between them hot and shared, but he didn't close the distance.
Aria's hands lifted, trembling, unsure — until they found his chest. The hard lines of muscle shifted beneath her touch, his heartbeat a frantic drum that betrayed everything he tried to hide. She slid her fingers up, curling them against the base of his neck, urging him closer.
"Leo…"
He groaned — low, guttural, wrecked. His lips brushed hers, once, twice, teasing, tormenting. His self-control was a knife-edge, sharp enough to cut them both.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't hesitant.
It was hunger.
His mouth claimed hers with a force that stole her breath, that told her exactly how hard he had fought this — and how completely he had lost. His hand cupped her jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while his body pressed just close enough to make her ache for more.
Aria clutched at him desperately, fingers digging into his shirt, pulling him down as if she could fuse them together. Every stroke of his tongue, every tug of his lips was fire, consuming her from the inside out.
When he finally tore his mouth away, it was only to drag it down her throat, his breath hot against her skin.
"You'll be the death of me," he growled, teeth grazing her pulse.
Her knees weakened, a whimper escaping before she could stop it. "Then die with me."
The sound he made was dangerous, almost feral. His hand slid to her waist, fingers pressing hard through the thin fabric of her dress, holding her as if he feared she might vanish.
He pressed her harder against the wall, every line of his body against hers, his restraint unraveling thread by thread. His thigh nudged between hers, and she gasped at the sudden, dizzying rush of heat.
Her nails scraped his shoulders, pulling him closer still.
For one blinding moment, she thought he would give in completely. His hips shifted, his mouth devoured hers again, and the tension snapped like glass shattering—
But then he froze.
Breathing ragged, he braced both hands against the wall, caging her in but forcing himself to pull back just enough to break the kiss. His forehead slammed against the wall beside hers, his chest heaving.
"Not like this," he panted. His voice was wrecked, desperate, torn apart by the very desire he tried to deny. "If I take you now, it won't be enough. It'll never be enough."
Aria's chest heaved, her lips swollen from his kiss, her body trembling with frustration and want. "You think I care about enough?"
His eyes opened, and the look he gave her nearly broke her. Dark, tortured, reverent — as though she was both salvation and sin.
"You should," he rasped.
Silence thickened between them, broken only by their uneven breaths. His hands still bracketed her head, his body still pressed to hers, but he held himself back by a threadbare leash of control.
She reached up, brushing her fingers over his jaw. "Then stay. Don't walk away again."
His throat worked as though swallowing the plea down cost him everything. He closed his eyes, leaned into her touch for the barest second… and then stepped back.
The space he left behind was cruel. Empty.
But his eyes never left hers, burning, promising.
"I'll stay," he said finally. His voice was hoarse, stripped raw. "But not as the man who loses control. Not tonight."
Aria's chest clenched. Frustration, longing, relief — all tangled until she could hardly tell them apart.
And yet, despite the ache, she knew this was not the end.
It was only the beginning.
The Breaking Point
The room was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that hummed against the skin, heavy and thick, like a silence waiting to split. Aria stood pressed against the wall, her lips swollen from his kiss, her body trembling with the ache he had left behind. Leo had stepped back, but barely. He lingered a few feet away, his chest still heaving, his gaze locked on her like he couldn't bear to look anywhere else.
Her fingers brushed her lips. They still burned.
He had kissed her like a man starved, like a man drowning — and yet he'd stopped. Again.
The frustration twisted inside her, but so did something else. Something softer, sharper. Something she didn't want to name.
Leo dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once, twice, like a caged animal. His shirt clung to him, damp at the collar from sweat, and every movement of his muscles made her chest tighten with longing.
"Do you have any idea," he began, his voice low and ragged, "what it's costing me to stand here?"
Aria swallowed hard. Her back slid down the wall until she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees weak. "Then don't stand. Don't fight it."
His head snapped toward her, eyes blazing. "Don't." The word cracked like a whip. "You don't understand."
"Then explain it," she shot back, her voice trembling but steady enough to cut through the silence. "Because all I feel is you wanting me as much as I want you. And every time you pull away, it's like—" Her throat tightened. She hated how raw she sounded. "It's like you're tearing something out of me."
He stilled.
For a long moment, his jaw worked, but no words came. Then, slowly, he crossed the room. His steps were measured, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were fire and ruin and desperation all at once.
When he stopped in front of her, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze.
"Aria," he murmured, her name a plea, a warning, a curse. His hand lifted, brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, so gently it nearly undid her. "You don't know what I'm holding back from you. If I give in, if I take you the way I want… you won't just be touched. You'll be consumed."
Her breath hitched, her thighs pressing together involuntarily.
"Then consume me."
The words slipped out before she could think, reckless and raw.
His entire body tensed. He froze, as if those three words had ripped the last thread of his control. For a heartbeat, she thought he would finally break.
But instead, he crouched down in front of her, placing his hands on either side of her thighs, caging her in without touching further. His face was so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her knees.
"You think you're ready for me," he said softly, dangerously. "But I've seen the way you tremble. You're not afraid, but you should be."
Her pulse thundered, but she didn't look away. She leaned forward, closing some of the space, her lips hovering inches from his. "Maybe I like the danger."
His growl was low, deep, vibrating through the air between them.
One of his hands slid up, finally resting against her thigh. Even through the thin fabric, the heat of his touch seared her. His thumb drew lazy circles, a tormenting tease that had her gasping.
Her hand rose, threading into his hair, tugging just enough to force his gaze up to hers. "Leo…"
His restraint shattered in the flicker of his eyes.
He surged upward, capturing her mouth with his in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. She fell back against the bed as he followed, his weight braced on his arms, his body caging hers completely. The kiss was wild, consuming, the kind that left no room for thought.
When he tore away, their foreheads crashed together, his breath ragged. "You're going to undo me."
Her lips curved in a shaky smile, her chest heaving. "Good."
His laugh was broken, strangled, more like a groan. He pressed his mouth to her jaw, her throat, down the delicate line where her pulse thundered. Every kiss was fire, every scrape of his teeth a brand.
Aria arched beneath him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her legs instinctively parting to welcome his weight.
But just as quickly as it began, he stopped again.
His body trembled over hers, his forehead buried against her collarbone, his breaths sharp and uneven.
"I can't," he rasped, though his hips pressed dangerously close to hers, betraying every word. "Not yet. Not like this."
Frustration and longing tangled in her chest until tears stung her eyes. She curled her fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at her. "Then when? How long are you going to torture us both?"
His gaze was tormented, his voice raw. "Until I'm sure I won't hurt you."
Aria stared at him, her chest heaving beneath the weight of his words. Until I'm sure I won't hurt you.
She almost laughed, bitter and breathless. "Leo… you already are."
The silence between them splintered. His eyes widened, guilt flashing through them like lightning — and then something else, darker, hungrier, more dangerous than before.
He shifted back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, his elbows braced on his knees, his hands buried in his hair. For a moment, he looked less like the untouchable man who had stolen her breath and more like someone haunted — hunted by his own desire.
Aria slid closer, her thigh brushing his. The contact was small, almost innocent, but his body went rigid as though the touch had set him aflame.
"Look at me," she whispered.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His gaze was raw, unguarded, stripped of the walls he'd tried so hard to keep.
Aria's hand found his, her fingers threading through his trembling ones. "I don't need safe. I don't want distance. I want you. All of you. Even the parts you're so afraid of."
His jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're saying."
"Then show me," she dared, her voice trembling but steady. "Let me decide."
For one fractured second, silence pressed down again. His chest rose and fell, his breath uneven, his stare locked on hers. And then, with a growl that sounded like surrender, he crushed his mouth against hers.
The kiss was not restraint. It was not hesitation.
It was everything.
His hands claimed her waist, dragging her into his lap. She gasped as her legs straddled him, the intimate position sending sparks of heat flooding her body. His palms roamed her back, her hips, gripping like he couldn't get close enough.
She clung to him, fingers twisted in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss until she thought she might drown. Every stroke of his tongue, every desperate clash of lips was fire and hunger and years of denial combusting at once.
When he tore his mouth away, it was only to trail it down her throat, biting gently at the curve where her pulse raced.
"You don't know," he rasped against her skin, "what you do to me."
Her head fell back, her nails scraping across his shoulders, her body arching into his touch. "Then stop telling me. Show me."
He groaned — raw, broken — and his hands tightened at her waist, sliding her against him until the evidence of his desire pressed hot and hard through the fabric. The friction made her gasp, her hips rocking instinctively in answer.
His breath hitched. His hands dug deeper. His control cracked.
"Aria…" Her name was a warning and a prayer, his forehead pressed against hers. "If I go any further—"
"Then don't stop."
The plea shattered him.
With a sound that was half curse, half growl, he flipped her onto her back against the bed, his body covering hers in a rush of heat and urgency. His mouth devoured hers again, desperate, consuming, while his hands traced fire down her sides, her thighs, her hips.
Every barrier between them felt like too much, every inch of space unbearable.
She arched beneath him, her breath breaking into soft, desperate sounds she couldn't contain. He swallowed them with his kisses, his body grinding against hers in a rhythm that left them both trembling.
There was no distance now. No restraint. No escape.
Only the sharp, dangerous truth neither of them could deny any longer.
He wanted her.
And he was finally breaking.
Leo's weight pressed her into the mattress, his body hot and unyielding above hers, every line of him molded to every curve of her. His mouth was everywhere — her lips, her throat, her collarbone — branding her with a desperate urgency that made her tremble.
Aria clutched at him as though she could anchor herself in the storm he'd unleashed. Her nails raked over his shoulders, down his back, drawing ragged groans from his lips. Each sound drove her wilder, bolder, until she was arching into him, chasing more of the friction that set her nerves alight.
"You don't understand," he growled against her skin, his voice frayed to breaking. "I can't stop. I won't—"
"Then don't."
The words ripped from her in a gasp, her head thrown back, her body pleading with every restless shift. She had waited too long, wanted too much. His restraint had been torment, and now it was gone — shattered under the weight of everything between them.
He froze only long enough to look at her, really look, his gaze searching, desperate. Her lips were swollen, her breath uneven, her eyes dark with need — but beneath it all, she gave him what he had been too afraid to trust.
Permission.
And with that, the last thread snapped.
Leo claimed her mouth in a kiss that was wild and consuming, his hands sliding under the hem of her dress, fingers splaying against bare skin. The contact made her cry out softly into his mouth, her hips lifting to meet his.
"God, Aria," he rasped, his forehead pressing to hers as his hands roamed higher. "You're going to ruin me."
She pulled him down harder, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, "Then let me."
He groaned, raw and broken, and his body answered before his words did — grinding harder into her, his control obliterated, every movement speaking of hunger too long denied.
Her hands fumbled at his shirt, desperate to feel him, to strip away the barriers that kept her from the heat of his skin. He tore it off with a growl, the fabric falling forgotten to the floor.
And then he was against her, chest to chest, skin to skin, the heat of him searing her.
She gasped, overwhelmed, her fingers tracing the lines of muscle, the curve of his shoulders, the raw strength trembling under her touch. He shuddered as though her fingertips branded him, his lips finding hers again in a kiss so deep it stole her breath.
There was no distance left. No careful restraint.
Just two bodies colliding, breaking, surrendering.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him down, anchoring him to her. His groan vibrated through her chest, his hands gripping her thighs as though he couldn't bear to let go.
"Aria," he panted, his voice rough with need and reverence all at once. "Tell me to stop, and I will."
Her answer was a kiss — fierce, unyielding, final.
"Don't you dare."
The sound he made was wrecked, guttural. And then he gave himself to her completely.