Temptation and Control
771 Words
Ryland
I knew Krystal wasn’t some f*****g damsel in distress. I knew it the second I saw her shove through that club door, shoulders squared, bare feet against the pavement like she was daring the night to f**k with her.
And now? Now she was looking at me like I was the problem. Like I was the danger. The temptation.
Maybe I was.
Her palm was still pressed against my chest, and I could feel the way her fingers trembled—barely, but enough. Enough to know she wasn’t just drunk off cheap liquor. She was drunk off something else. Something that had her pulse hammering, her lips parting just enough to make me wonder how they’d feel if I tilted my head just right.
She exhaled, closing her eyes for half a second before snapping them open again. “You’re drunk,” she muttered, almost like she was reminding herself rather than me. “I’m drunk. This is stupid.”
I tilted my head, watching her with something between amusement and pure, raw f*****g hunger. “Yeah? Then go inside. Go back to the crowd, the noise. Back to whatever the hell you were trying to drink away.”
Her jaw tightened. “I—”
“Or,” I interrupted smoothly, stepping even closer, just enough to feel the way her breath stuttered, “you can admit what we both f*****g know.”
She stiffened. “And what’s that?”
I smirked, slow and deliberate. “That you want me.”
Krystal scoffed, but I caught the flicker of something wild in her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re a f*****g coward.”
That did it. Her whole body went rigid, eyes flashing. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I leaned in just a fraction, close enough that my breath ghosted over her lips. “You won’t do s**t, Krys. You can’t. Because if you touch me, if you actually f*****g let yourself have what you want—” I grinned, the taunt razor-sharp. “You’ll lose.”
Her nostrils flared. “Lose what?”
“Control.”
The second the word left my mouth, something in her snapped.
I wasn’t ready.
She let out a growl—an actual, frustrated f*****g growl—before she fisted my shirt and yanked me forward so hard I nearly lost my footing. Then, before I could process, before I could do anything but let her have her goddamn way—
She kissed me.
She kissed me like she was starving, like she’d been dying of thirst and I was the first drop of water in days. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was raw, desperate, f*****g furious. Teeth clashed. Tongues fought. Her nails raked up my chest, gripping me like she wanted to make sure I couldn’t pull away—not that I had any f*****g intention of doing so.
A groan tore from my throat, my hands moving instinctively, one gripping her waist, the other tangling in her hair, tilting her head to take her deeper, harder. I swallowed the little sound she made, that breathy, wrecked f*****g whimper that sent a bolt of heat straight through me.
Jesus f*****g Christ.
I felt her everywhere. Her body pressed tight against mine, her lips searing, her hands frantic as they roamed over me like she was trying to memorize the shape of me. And f**k, I let her, because I was doing the same damn thing. Mapping her curves with my fingers, feeling the way she shivered, the way she melted and fought me at the same f*****g time.
Then, just as fast as she’d yanked me in, she tore herself away.
The cold hit me instantly. My chest heaved, my brain short-circuiting as I stared at her, disoriented as f**k.
She licked her lips, gaze flickering over me like she was memorizing the damage she’d just done. Then, with a smirk that was way too f*****g pleased, she whispered, “Told you I shouldn’t.”
I clenched my jaw, dragging a hand through my hair as I tried to fight the irritation crawling up my spine. “You’re a f*****g menace.”
She laughed, a breathy, wicked sound that only made my blood burn hotter. “And you f*****g love it.”
I didn’t get the chance to answer before she spun on her heel, bare feet against the pavement as she sauntered off like she hadn’t just left me wrecked.
Fucking hell.
I swore under my breath, staring after her, jaw tight, hands still curled into fists.
Yeah.
I was so, so f****d.
- Writer
