Too Close
814 Words
Aria was halfway through brushing her teeth when the bathroom door swung open.
She choked on a mouthful of foam, spinning around. “Damian!”
He stood in the doorway, towel slung casually over his shoulder, fresh from the shower. His hair was damp, his shirt open at the collar, and his expression infuriatingly calm—as if barging into occupied rooms was perfectly natural.
“This is my house,” he drawled. “And that’s my bathroom.”
Her jaw dropped. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“Ever heard of locking?” His lips twitched into a smirk.
She spat into the sink, glaring at him. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re in my way.”
Before she could argue, he moved past her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. She froze, toothbrush in hand, as he leaned into the mirror, running a hand through his hair.
Aria’s heart hammered. The scent of his soap—clean, sharp, undeniably male—wrapped around her, dragging traitorous thoughts into her head. She stepped back quickly, nearly tripping on the bathmat.
“Relax, princess,” Damian murmured, eyes catching hers in the mirror. “I don’t bite.”
Her pulse spiked. “Good. Because if you tried, I’d bite back.”
Something flickered in his gaze then—something darker, hungrier. For one breathless moment, the bathroom shrank to nothing but them, locked in a silent challenge neither was brave enough to admit.
Aria broke it first. She shoved her toothbrush into the cup, stormed past him, and slammed the door on her way out.
---
The day didn’t get easier.
At work, their rivalry burned hotter than ever. Aria tore through reports, challenged his strategies in meetings, and matched his arrogance with sharp, cutting wit.
Damian only smiled. Always smiling. Always provoking.
By the time evening fell, her nerves were frayed. She needed space. Distance. Oxygen.
But fate had other plans.
The storm hit without warning, rattling the windows with thunder and sheets of rain. Power flickered once, twice—then died.
The house plunged into darkness.
Aria froze at the top of the stairs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Damian’s voice came from below, smooth and steady even in the dark. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Carter.”
She gripped the railing tighter. “Of course not. But I don’t exactly enjoy being trapped in a blackout with you.”
His laugh was low, warm, and maddeningly close. “Then tonight’s going to be fun.”
A match flared. For a moment, the golden light illuminated his face, sharp and beautiful, shadows cutting across his cheekbones. He lit a candle and handed it to her.
“Don’t drop it,” he murmured, his fingers brushing hers.
The spark between them was instant. Heat licked up her arm, settling in her chest. She pulled away too quickly, the flame trembling.
“You enjoy this, don’t you?” she accused.
“What?” He tilted his head, amused.
“Watching me squirm. Pushing my buttons. Acting like you know everything.”
Damian stepped closer, the candlelight dancing in his eyes. “Maybe I do know everything.”
She lifted her chin. “Then tell me—what do you know about me?”
He studied her, gaze unwavering. The air thickened with silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dangerous.
“I know you work twice as hard as anyone in that office. I know you’d rather break than bend. I know you hate losing, and you hate me for making you lose.”
Her chest tightened.
“And,” he added, eyes burning into hers, “I know you’re lying every time you say you don’t feel this.”
Before she could reply, thunder boomed overhead, shaking the walls. The candle flickered violently. She stumbled, and his hand shot out, gripping her waist, steadying her.
Too close. Far too close.
Her breath caught as she looked up, their faces only inches apart. His hand was firm on her waist, his gaze locked on her lips. For one dizzying heartbeat, the world outside—the storm, the blackout, the hatred—disappeared.
There was only him.
And the terrifying truth that she wanted him to close the distance.
But Damian didn’t. He released her slowly, stepping back with a smile that looked more like surrender than victory.
“Careful, princess,” he murmured. “You almost let me win.”
Aria’s heart slammed against her ribs. She turned sharply, gripping the candle tighter, forcing her voice steady.
“In your dreams, Hale.”
But when she finally escaped to her room and shut the door, she leaned against it, chest heaving, face flushed.
Because for the first time since meeting Damian Hale… she wasn’t sure she wanted to keep losing.
- Writer
