Pov author
Arin flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing the ember beneath his shoe as he stepped closer.
Anna stiffened instantly.
The air shifted as he closed the distance, his presence heavy, deliberate. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, shoulders tense.
"I don't like the smell of smoking," she said, her voice steady—but just barely.
A slow smile spread across his lips, amused, almost soft.
"Don't worry," he murmured. "I'll quit if you want." He tilted his head slightly, eyes fixed on hers. "Only started a few days ago anyway."
Anna gave a small nod, unsure what to say.
"What else don't you like?" he asked, his tone casual, but his gaze sharp—watching, memorizing.
"Seafood," she replied. "I'm allergic."
He nodded once, like it mattered. Like every word she said mattered.
"Anything else?"
She shook her head.
Arin studied her for a moment longer, then leaned in just slightly, enough to make her breath hitch.
"Is there anything else I need to know?"
Again, she shook her head.
A pause.
Then—he tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"How about telling me," he said quietly, "that you're getting married to my cousin?"
Anna froze.
Her breath caught, her eyes widening as the words hit her.
"What—"
She swallowed hard, throat dry, panic flickering across her face.
Arin's smile didn't fade. If anything, it deepened—calm, dangerous.
"Get in the car," he said smoothly, stepping back and opening the door.
His eyes locked onto hers.
"Love."
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The kiss pinned her to the hotel door—cool wood against her back, his mouth bruising, breathless. His hand cupped her jaw, thumb pressed to the hollow beneath her ear, and he swallowed her gasp as his tongue swept in. Not a kiss. A claiming. Messy. Desperate. Their breaths fusing into one humid rhythm.
He fumbled behind her. The lock snicked open. They stumbled through, a tangle of limbs and need, until the back of her knees hit the mattress. She fell with a soft gasp. The comforter yielded.
They parted for a heartbeat. Air charged. Chests heaving. His eyes—dark, intent—held hers. Not savoring. Staking claim. Erasing every other name that had ever touched her lips. Alex. Anyone else. Just the force of his stare.
Then he was over her, lowering down, his mouth finding hers again. Nothing gentle. A declaration.
His hands slid beneath her shirt, knuckles grazing ribs, pushing fabric up. She arched into his touch, fingers frantic on his buttons—each one slipping free to reveal warm, taut skin. He pulled her shirt over her head. A brief eclipse. She tugged his shirt from his shoulders. It hit the floor. Skin met skin. The world outside ceased.
The world narrowed to the space between them.
His hands—rough, sure—traced down her sides, fingers hooking into the waistband of her jeans. He paused. Forehead against hers. Breath a hot, uneven whisper against her lips. A question. A final breath before the plunge.
She lifted her hips. Answer enough.
He made a sound—half groan, half growl—and made quick work of button and zipper, peeling denim down her legs in one swift motion, taking her underwear with it. Bare skin met cool air. A fleeting shock before the heat of him covered her again.
Laid bare beneath him. But his gaze didn't linger. He moved with focused intensity, his mouth trailing fire down her throat, over the hollow of her collarbone, the swell of her breast. Each kiss a brand. Seared. Possessive. His hands mapped her waist, the flare of her hip—memorizing her by touch.
Her fingers, clumsy with want, found his belt. Metallic clink. Deafening in the quiet. She worked it open, knuckles brushing the rigid plane of his stomach, feeling the muscles jump beneath her touch. He helped her push his trousers down. His body settled against hers—warm, solid, inevitable.
For a moment, still. A tangle of limbs and ragged breaths. City lights from the window cast slanted shadows across the bed, cutting the sharp line of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes. He looked down at her. Raw. Unwavering. No Alex. No anyone else. Only this.
He braced a hand beside her head, fingers sinking into the pillow. When he moved, it was deliberate. Consuming. Slow enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Her hands found his back, nails grazing taut muscles, pulling him closer—trying to close any space left between them.
He dipped his head, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Say it." His voice a low vibration that resonated through her entire body.
Her mind was a blur of sensation. But she understood.
The word came out breathless. Broken. "Yours."
Only then did he let go of the last shred of control.
The word hung in the air between them—a promise sealed the moment it left her lips. His response was immediate. A shift in his rhythm. Deeper. More urgent. Her admission had unlocked something raw and unguarded inside him.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back, anchoring him to her. She wanted to feel every inch of him. Wanted to disappear into the heat building between them. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down. He came willingly, mouth finding the sensitive spot just below her ear—teeth grazing, tongue soothing.
A moan escaped her. Low. Involuntary. He swallowed it, lips crashing back to hers. Messier now. Less coordinated. All teeth and desperate breath. He tasted of salt and want, and she couldn't get enough.
His hand slid beneath her, palm flat against the small of her back, arching her up to meet him. The new angle drew a sharp gasp from her throat. Her nails dug into his shoulders. He groaned her name—not Anna, but the shortened version only he used, the one that felt like a secret between them.
The room faded to nothing but sensation. The headboard knocked softly against the wall. Sheets twisted beneath her, tangled around their legs. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed. Another world.
She felt the tension coiling in her core—a wire pulled taut, threatening to snap. Her breaths came short, uneven. Her hands clutching him—shoulders, back, anywhere she could reach. He seemed to sense her nearing the edge. He slowed, pulling back just enough to look at her.
His face barely visible in the dim light, but she could feel his gaze. Heavy. Searching. Sweat sheened his skin, a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead. He looked undone. Like a man who had finally found something he'd been hunting for a very long time.
His hand slid between them. Fingers found the center of her. Her hips bucked involuntarily.
He watched her come undone beneath his touch. Quiet intensity in his eyes. More possessiveness than any words could hold.
"Look at me." His voice strained. Barely a whisper.
She forced her eyes open. Met his gaze just as the wave crested. Her body arched off the bed. A cry tore from her throat—half his name, half something wordless and primal. He followed her over the edge moments later, his composure finally shattering, forehead dropping to hers as a shudder ran through him.
For a long moment, neither moved. Ragged breaths mingled in the small space between their lips. Hearts pounding in tandem against the sweat-slick press of their chests.
Slowly, the world reassembled itself. Distant traffic. Cool breeze from the cracked window. The weight of his body, still half covering hers. Warm. Grounding.
He shifted, pulling out and rolling to the side, but his arm immediately found her waist, drawing her against him. She turned into his chest, cheek resting over his heart, listening to its frantic rhythm steady.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare hip. A stark contrast to the urgency of moments before. A question lingered in the silence between them—the unspoken acknowledgment that something had shifted, that they had crossed a line from which there was no return.
She tilted her head up. Found his eyes already on her. In the half-light, his expression was unreadable, but his arm tightened around her, pulling her closer.
His thumb traced her lower lip. A touch so tender it made her chest ache after everything that had come before.
"Stay." Not a question. But a command.
She didn't answer with words. She let her eyes drift closed, hand curling over his heart, and felt the steady beat of it beneath her palm.
Outside, the city hummed on. But in the quiet dark of the hotel room, time seemed to hold its breath, waiting to see what would happen when morning light finally slipped through the curtains and demanded they face whatever they had become.
Arin pushed himself up from the bed, the sheets falling loosely around his waist as he ran a hand through his messy hair. His gaze shifted to Anna, steady and searching.
"When are you going to tell your parents that you don't want to marry Alex?"
Anna sat curled against the headboard, fingers gripping the blanket as if it could shield her from everything pressing in on her. She avoided his eyes, her voice softer than usual. "I don't know… I don't want to disappoint them."
A quiet scoff left Arin as he bent down, picking up his shirt from the floor. He shook it once before pulling it over his head, his movements sharp, restless. He turned back to her, eyes darker now.
"So what? You're just going to marry him?"
There was something in his tone—half disbelief, half something more dangerous. He let out a short, humorless chuckle. "Anna… I may love Alex a lot, but my hands won't tremble if I choke the life out of him."
Anna inhaled slowly, her chest tightening at his words. She knew he didn't mean it lightly, and that made it worse. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her thoughts a tangled mess of guilt, fear, and something she refused to name.
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed on the bedside table.
The sound cut through the tension like a blade.
She quickly pulled the blanket tighter around herself before reaching for it, her fingers hesitating for just a second when she saw the name on the screen.
Lily.
Her brows furrowed. Lily never texted her this early—never like this.
There was a photo attached.
A strange uneasiness crept up Anna's spine as she opened it.
And then—
Her breath hitched.
The phone nearly slipped from her hand.
It was a picture taken at the school gate.
Clear. Sharp. Undeniable.
Arin… standing close to her.
Too close.
Her eyes widened, her pulse pounding violently in her ears as she stared at the image, trying to make sense of how—when—why—
Slowly, she lifted her gaze toward Arin.
Everything had just changed.
To be continued…