Forbidden desires

Marcus I honestly deserve an Oscar for the number of times I’ve watched entitled assholes walk around with their devil-may-care attitudes without punching them in the face. I’m not a good man. I never claimed to be. But one thing I’ll always draw the line at is abuse. Maybe it’s because I grew up surrounded by too much toxicity. Maybe it’s because I know exactly what helplessness looks like. Whatever the reason, I’ve never been able to ignore it when I see someone going through the same thing. Trust me, I’m no hero. But I’m not the villain either. Which is exactly why sitting here in this bar and watching some pathetic excuse of a man force himself on a woman has my blood boiling. Before I can stop myself, I’m already crossing the club toward their table, stepping into a situation that has absolutely nothing to do with me. “I’m pretty sure the lady already told you she’s not interested,” I say coldly. The asshole ignores me completely. I sigh. “I really hate repeating myself.” Slowly, he looks up at me with a smug grin. “You could’ve just admitted you wanted a taste too instead of acting like some b***h in heat.” That was the final straw. My fist connects with his jaw before he can say another word. “What the hell, man?” he shouts, stumbling backward before trying to throw punches at me like an amateur. I dodge easily and land another hit straight to his stomach, sending him crashing into a nearby table. Seriously, this guy needs to hit the gym. An unsurprising crowd gathers around us, and I already know security will throw him out any second now. I’m not exactly a regular here, but I tip well enough for the staff to stay out of my business. Turning away from the chaos, I start heading back toward the bar when suddenly a hand lands on my arm. I freeze instantly. Not because I’m surprised—but because everyone knows better than to touch me unexpectedly. Slowly, I turn around, fully prepared to break someone’s fingers. Instead, I’m met with the strangest club outfit I’ve ever seen. Then I notice her eyes. Hazel. Bright. Expressive. Beautiful. I study her more carefully, and God help me, there’s something about her that feels both innocent and fierce at the same time. Dangerous combination. “I’m really sorry for bothering you,” she says softly, avoiding my eyes. “I just wanted to thank you for helping me over there.” I stare at her a second too long before realizing she’s waiting for a response. “It’s no big deal,” I finally say. “The guy was being an ass.” She nods quickly but still refuses to look at me. For some reason, that annoys me. “You know it’s normal courtesy to look someone in the eye while speaking to them, right?” Immediately, she starts rambling nervously. “I—I’m sorry, I just—” I place a hand gently on her shoulder to calm her down, but she jerks away from my touch like I burned her. The reaction hits harder than it should. “Are you scared of me, angel?” I ask quietly. Her eyes widen immediately. “No! I mean… no, not at all. I’m just feeling overwhelmed.” Finally, she looks up at me properly. And suddenly, I forget how to breathe. There’s something so open and vulnerable in those hazel eyes that it pulls me in instantly. “I’m sorry if I made you think I was afraid of you,” she says softly. “I didn’t mean it that way.” “It’s okay, angel,” I murmur. “I get it.” Without thinking too much about it, I slowly lift my hand toward her face, giving her enough time to pull away if she wants to. She doesn’t. Carefully, I brush my fingers against her cheek. To my surprise, she leans into my touch slightly, almost like she’s craving it. My pulse kicks harder. I lean closer— “Everybody out! Club’s closed for the night!” She jumps away from me instantly. “I’m really sorry, but I have to go,” she says quickly. “Thank you again for helping me.” She turns toward the exit, leaving behind the faint scent of fruit and vanilla that’s already driving me insane. Before she can disappear, I reach for her hand, stopping her gently. “Let me drive you home.” She gives me an apologetic smile. “Thank you, but I’ll decline. You’ve already done enough for me tonight, and we don’t even know each other.” “I’m not asking for anything in return,” I tell her. “That guy was a jerk, and I stepped in because I wanted to. Now come on before security throws us both outside.” A small smile tugs at her lips, and somehow that feels like a victory. I take her hand and lead her outside. The cold night air hits my face immediately as we step into the parking lot. When I turn toward her, I realize she’s already staring at me. Something shifts between us. Maybe it’s the alcohol barely buzzing through my system. Maybe it’s the adrenaline from the fight. Or maybe it’s just her. Before I can stop myself, I lean in and capture her lips with mine. Her breath catches instantly. I can feel her pulse racing beneath my hand as she freezes for a second, like she’s afraid to move. But I’m already too far gone to pull away now. I deepen the kiss carefully, giving her every chance to stop me. Instead, she lets out a shaky breath and grips the front of my shirt. That tiny reaction is enough to destroy what little self-control I have left. I brush my tongue softly against her lower lip, silently asking for permission. After a brief hesitation, she lets me in. And suddenly, the kiss turns desperate. Hungry. Addictive. A soft sound escapes her throat as her fingers slide into my hair, pulling me closer. Every nerve in my body lights on fire. And before I can think better of it, the words leave my mouth. “Come back to my place.”