Dangerous Desire

Breaking Distance

The storm had rolled in unexpectedly, sheets of rain drumming against the conservatory windows. Evening classes were canceled, the hallways eerily quiet.

Mya lingered in the practice room long after Sonya left, her voice echoing softly through the storm’s roar. She didn’t expect anyone else to be there—until the door opened.

Chris.

Water glistened on his coat, his hair damp from the rain. He stepped inside without a word, setting down a stack of papers.

“You should be gone by now,” he said, his tone low, as though the storm itself had followed him inside.

Mya smiled faintly, her pulse quickening. “And miss the chance to sing while the thunder keeps rhythm? No chance.”

He glanced at her, expression unreadable, but she caught it—the brief flicker in his eyes, like her audacity amused him against his will.

She turned back to the piano, her fingers brushing the keys. “Stay. Tell me if I’m sharp on the high phrase.”

“Mya.” His voice was a warning.

But she sang anyway. Her voice climbed, filling the small room, pouring all her longing and defiance into the notes. When she finished, she spun toward him, breathless. “Well?”

Chris didn’t answer right away. His gaze pinned her, sharp and unyielding, yet his silence felt heavier than any critique.

“You’ve improved,” he said finally, his voice rougher than usual. “But you rely too much on emotion. It’ll destroy your control.”

She tilted her head, stepping closer. “And what if emotion is what makes me stronger?”

His jaw tightened. “Then you’ll crash.”

She stopped in front of him, so close she had to tilt her chin up. The storm rattled the windows, thunder rolling like a drumbeat between them.

“Or maybe you’re afraid,” she whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Of what?”

“That I might unravel you.”

The air thickened. Chris didn’t move, didn’t speak, but the tension crackled like lightning.

Mya’s heart hammered. She reached out, reckless, her fingers brushing his sleeve. The fabric was damp, his arm taut beneath.

“Tell me to stop,” she dared softly.

For a long, unbearable moment, he didn’t.

Instead, he stepped forward, backing her toward the piano until she felt the cool wood press against her hips. His hand came up, bracing beside her head.

“You think you’re clever,” he murmured, his voice dark, dangerous. “Poking at the cracks, seeing how far you can push.”

Her breath shuddered. “Maybe I want to see what happens when you finally break.”

His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there, hungry. For a second, she thought he’d give in. His hand hovered near her jaw, fingers twitching as though aching to touch her.

But then—he pulled back just enough, his restraint trembling.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Once I start, I won’t stop.”

Mya’s pulse roared in her ears. She leaned closer, her lips brushing the edge of his words. “Then maybe I don’t want you to.”

Chris’s breath caught, his control fraying. His hand finally touched her—just a fleeting stroke along her jaw, hot enough to scorch. She gasped, her knees weakening.

But as quickly as it came, he dropped his hand, stepping away like distance was the only thing saving him.

The storm outside crashed louder, as if echoing his struggle.

“You’re reckless,” he said, his voice cutting but trembling beneath. “And if you keep pushing, Mya, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” she whispered, her eyes burning into his. “Punish me? Or finally admit you want me too?”

The silence that followed was thick, unbearable. His chest rose and fell hard, his eyes blazing with everything he wouldn’t say.

Finally, he turned toward the door, his voice clipped. “Go back to your dorm. Before I prove just how little control I have left.”

Mya’s lips curved into a slow, daring smile, even as her pulse rattled through her veins.

“You’re already proving it.”

He froze in the doorway at her words—but didn’t look back. Then he was gone, swallowed by the storm.

---

That night, Mya lay awake, the storm still raging outside. Her skin still burned where his hand had touched her, her heart racing with the truth she saw in his eyes.

Chris Hale could be as cold, as dominant, as untouchable as he wanted.

But he was cracking.

And Mya was going to be the one to break him open.