TheKiss
576 Words
The city hadn’t slept, and neither had Amara.
Every thought kept circling back to that moment at the door—his voice, his eyes, the quiet promise between every heartbeat.
She told herself it was only attraction, a temporary imbalance of chemistry and proximity. But deep down, she knew better. Something about Damian Voss had slipped beneath her defenses, steady as the tide wearing away stone.
By morning, she was already behind schedule. Coffee went cold beside her sketches; every line she drew looked like him—sharp, deliberate, impossible to erase.
Her phone buzzed once.
Unknown Number: We need to talk.
She didn’t answer.
Another message came.
If I come to you, it won’t be about business.
Her pulse spiked. She typed, deleted, typed again, and finally sent: Then don’t come.
Five minutes later, a knock.
“Damian, no,” she muttered, opening the door halfway. “I meant what I—”
But he wasn’t listening. He stepped inside, his expression unreadable, his presence swallowing the small apartment. He wore no tie today, just a dark shirt unbuttoned at the throat.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” he asked quietly.
“Do what?”
“Pretend you don’t want what’s already happening.”
Amara laughed nervously. “You really think the world revolves around you, don’t you?”
“No,” he said, taking a slow step closer. “I think it’s been revolving around us since the moment you walked into my office.”
Her back brushed the wall. “You should leave.”
“Tell me you mean that.”
“I—” The word dissolved when his hand reached up, brushing a curl from her face. His fingers paused near her jaw, not touching—just waiting.
“See?” he whispered. “You don’t.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You trust what you feel,” he said. “That’s enough for now.”
The air between them thickened. The world outside the window blurred into rain again, as if even the weather knew what was coming.
“Damian…” she began, but the rest of her sentence vanished when his hand slid to the back of her neck, drawing her close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
He stopped there, not taking, not forcing, simply waiting for permission she didn’t realize she was about to give.
Her fingers rose of their own accord, resting lightly against his chest. His heartbeat answered hers—steady, certain, dangerous.
When she finally lifted her eyes, he moved closer. The kiss was inevitable.
Soft at first—question, answer, surrender.
Then deeper, hungrier, until her mind went quiet and only sensation remained.
He broke away first, breath unsteady. “You should tell me to stop.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she whispered, “You always do everything on your terms. Maybe it’s my turn now.”
He smiled faintly, the kind that looked like sin disguised as gratitude. “Careful, Amara. Power looks good on you.”
She stepped back, regaining control inch by inch. “It always has.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain against the window was the only sound left in the world.
Then Damian’s voice, low and deliberate: “This changes everything.”
She met his gaze without flinching. “It already did.”
Teaser:
One kiss began it. But what started with desire might end with destruction.
- Writer
