Irresistibly Yours, Enemy Mine

Chapter 8

Tokyo, Japan. Business trip.

Of course, siya na naman.

The moment her parents said, “You’ll be flying to Japan to represent Navarro Luxe,” alam na agad ni Stine kung sino ang makakasama niya. Alaric Ybañez. Sino pa ba?

She didn’t argue. She knew arguing wouldn’t change anything. Kahit pa internally naglulupasay na siya.

The Ybañez and Navarro families were co-sponsors of an exclusive international beauty and real estate expo. And because "the youth should take more initiative," ayon sa mga magulang nila, sila ang pinadala. Hindi si Theo. Hindi si Jace. Hindi si Ram. Not even her assistant. No. Just her. And Alaric.

Perfect.

Narita Airport – Arrival

They didn’t speak much after landing. Pareho silang tahimik sa van habang binabaybay ang expressway pa-Shibuya. The tension between them? Suffocating.

Alaric was on his phone the whole ride, expression unreadable. She, on the other hand, tried to sleep, kahit pa ilang ulit siyang nahuling tinitingnan niya sa gilid ng mata.

He looked tired. But still infuriatingly attractive. His black button-down was rolled just above the elbows, exposing tanned forearms. Messy hair. Jaw clenched. Eyes focused.

Tigil, Stine, she reminded herself. Hindi mo type ang playboy.

Pagdating sa hotel, she marched straight to the front desk.

"Hi. Reservation under Navarro Luxe and Ybañez Estates. Two rooms, please."

The receptionist typed, paused, then looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Only one executive suite has been booked."

"Excuse me?"

Alaric stepped beside her. "What did you expect? Our parents planned this. Of course they'd do this."

She glared at him. "You knew?"

He shrugged. "I suspected."

Tangina.

"Fine. I want another room," she told the receptionist.

"Let me check if there's one available."

She tapped her foot impatiently, arms crossed.

Minutes later, they handed her a separate keycard.

"Room 1709."

Without a word, she turned and left.

Stine stood by the huge window of her room, watching the rain pour violently. Tokyo skyline was glowing but blurred behind the curtain of water. She held a cup of tea, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

She hated being near Alaric.

Correction: she hated how being near Alaric affected her.

She shouldn’t be thinking about that kiss weeks ago.

She shouldn’t still feel the way she did when he touched her wrist during their last meeting.

She shouldn’t remember how he looked at her like he wanted to ruin her and save her all at once.

But she did.

She sipped her tea, opened her laptop, and typed out a few notes for tomorrow’s presentation. Then the lights flickered.

Oh no.

And just like that—

Total blackout.

She froze.

"No. No, no, no..."

She scrambled for her phone. 11% battery. No signal.

The wind howled. The windows trembled.

She tried to shrug it off, but the anxiety crept in fast. Not because she was scared of the dark. She’d survived worse.

But there was something about being alone in a foreign country, in a dim hotel, during a storm, that made her feel small.

She paced. Looked at the emergency flashlight—it wouldn’t turn on.

Shit.

And before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed her hoodie, her phone, and her keycard—and left.

Kumatok sya sa room ni Alaric.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Alaric was lying on the couch, shirtless, scrolling through old project files on his tablet when he heard it.

He opened the door.

She stood there, slightly wet from the misty rain, hoodie half-zipped over a loose shirt and shorts. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. Eyes defiant.

"Let me in."

He stepped aside. "Couldn’t sleep without me?"

"Don’t flatter yourself. Walang ilaw. May bagyo. Ayoko magising na basag ang bintana sa kwarto ko."

She stepped in. The room was quiet except for the wind outside.

He offered her a towel.

She took it.

Silence.

Then—

"You can take the bed. I'll crash on the couch," he said.

She looked at him. "You don’t have to."

"I know. But I will."

Stine sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, towel still on her shoulders. Alaric sat across the room, grabbing a glass of whiskey.

They didn’t talk for a long time.

Then—

"Do you always do this?" she asked quietly.

He turned. "Do what?"

"Pretend you don’t care."

He blinked. Then sipped. "Do you?"

She exhaled.

The storm outside raged louder. Thunder cracked, and instinctively, she flinched. He noticed.

He walked over and handed her the glass. "Here. Pangpasigla."

She took a sip. It burned her throat. She coughed.

He chuckled.

"Don’t laugh at me," she frowned.

He sat beside her, close enough for her to feel his warmth.

"You still think I’m just some arrogant playboy, huh?"

She looked away. "Aren’t you?"

"Not with you."

Her heart skipped.

Shit.

The tension was unbearable. Every time she looked at him, she remembered that night.

That one night in New York.

The way his hands had trembled.

The way his eyes widened when he realized.

The blood. The confusion. The guilt. The truth.

He hadn’t known.

And she hated that he was so gentle after. So careful. So... him.

She hadn’t been able to face him after that.

She stood abruptly. "I should go."

"Wala pang signal. Elevators are down."

She stopped mid-step.

Right.

He stood too. "You can stay. I won’t touch you. Unless you want me to."

She turned sharply. "Stop. Don’t say things like that."

"Why not? It’s the truth."

She clenched her fists. "Because you confuse me. One minute you’re this cold, sarcastic jerk, the next you’re... this."

"I confuse myself too, Stine."

She didn’t know what to say.

He stepped forward. Closer. But didn’t touch her.

Just stood there, inches away, breathing the same air.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

The storm outside howled, but inside, everything felt still.

His hand brushed hers.

She didn’t move.

But she whispered, "Don’t."

He paused. "Okay."

And he stepped back.

That night, they both stayed in the same room. Far but close. Silent but loud in thoughts.

She stood abruptly. "I should go."

"Wala pang signal. Elevators are down."

She stopped mid-step.

Right.

He stood too. "You can stay. I won’t touch you. Unless you want me to."

She turned sharply. "Stop. Don’t say things like that."

"Why not? It’s the truth."

She clenched her fists. "Because you confuse me. One minute you’re this cold, sarcastic jerk, the next you’re... this."

"I confuse myself too, Stine."

She didn’t know what to say.

He stepped forward. Closer. But didn’t touch her.

Just stood there, inches away, breathing the same air.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

The storm outside howled, but inside, everything felt still.

His hand brushed hers.

She didn’t move.

But she whispered, "Don’t."

He paused. "Okay."

And he stepped back.

That night, they both stayed in the same room. Far but close. Silent but loud in thoughts.

They didn’t sleep.

Because somewhere between thunderclaps and heavy silence, words turned into glances.

Glances turned into touches.

Touches into kisses.

And kisses into something raw, wild, and consuming.

They didn’t plan it. They didn’t even speak.

But it happened. Fast. Intense. Unrestrained.

They clung to each other like the storm outside was ripping the world apart and only they existed in that moment.

Too many unsaid things filled the space between them.

The soft hum of the air-conditioning was the only sound in the room until Stine’s back hit the door.

Alaric's eyes were dark—hungry.

Stine’s chest rose and fell rapidly. She knew what was coming. She felt it in the electric tension between them, in the way he stared at her like she was both salvation and sin.

“Don’t,” she whispered, chest trembling. “We said this was a mistake.”

“You’re the only mistake I’m willing to keep making,” he growled.

And then his lips crashed into hers—bruising, claiming.

Agad siyang tumugon—kumapit ang mga daliri niya sa buhok nito, umuungol habang magkahinang ang kanilang mga labi. Hindi iyon banayad na halik. Mainit. Marahas. Parang apoy at galit na pinaghalong matagal nang kinikimkim na pagnanasa at pinigilang damdamin na sa ilang segundo lang ay sumabog.

Nagliparan ang mga damit.

May mga butones na nagkalag.

Una niyang hinubad ang blouse ni Stine, lumantad ang suot nitong lace bra. Hindi na niya inabala pang tanggalin ito—agad niyang ibinaba ang mga cup, hayagang inilantad sa kaniya ang katawan nito.

“Putangina,” he hissed, mouth dropping to her chest. “I missed this. I missed you.”

Sinupsop niya ang isang u***g, pinaikot-ikot ang dila bago marahang kinagat—tama lang para mapaungol siya ng malalim.

Napaliyad si Stine, kumapit pa lalo ang mga daliri sa buhok niya, nanginginig ang mga binti.

“Alaric…” she moaned, breathless. “Please…”

Lumuhod siya sa harap nito, sabay hablot pababa ng palda at panty niya sa isang marahas na galaw. Basa na siya—sobrang basa.

Walang pasabi, isinubsob niya ang mukha sa pagitan ng mga hita nito. Dumaan ang dila niya sa pagitan ng mga labi, dinilaan, sinupsop, at tinukso ang kanyang clit hanggang sa manginig ang mga tuhod ni Stine.

“f**k—don’t stop,” she gasped, grinding against his mouth.

But he pulled back, eyes dark. “Get on the bed.”

Sumunod siya—gumapang paatras sa king-sized bed, humiga nang hubo’t hubad, nakabuka ang mga hita. Namumula ang balat niya, namamaga ang mga labi, magulo ang buhok. Pero para kay Alaric, wala nang mas perpekto pa sa kanya sa sandaling ‘yon.

Tinanggal ni Alaric ang belt gamit ang isang kamay, habang ang isa’y mahigpit na nakabalot sa matigas niyang alaga.

“Look at what you do to me, Stine.”

She bit her lip, eyes locked on him. “Then take me. I want to feel you lose control.”

Hindi na niya kailangan ng dagdag na paanyaya.

Hinawakan niya ang mga bukung-bukong ni Stine, hinila siya palapit sa dulo ng kama, at isang malakas na ulos lang—ipasok agad siya ni Alaric.

Sabay silang napaungol—malalim, magaspang, at walang pakialam kung gaano kalakas.

“Tangina… you’re so f*****g tight,” he groaned, hips snapping forward.

Sinimulan niyang umulos—malalim, madiin, mabilis—mahigpit na hawak ang balakang niya habang napapaungol si Stine sa ilalim niya.

Kumakalabog sa kwarto ang tunog ng nagsasalpukang balat.

Bawat galaw niya, umaalog ang mga dibdib ni Stine. Napapakapit siya sa kumot, halos bumaon ang mga kuko.

Pero sinalubong niya ang bawat ulos—nakapulupot ang mga binti sa baywang ni Alaric, hinahatak siya palapit, mas malalim pa.

“I hate you,” she moaned.

“Say it again,” he grunted, thrusting harder.

“I f*****g hate you—ahhh, Alaric!”

He smirked, one hand gripping her throat gently. “Then why are you dripping for me, hmm?”

He pulled out suddenly, flipping her over onto her stomach.

“On your knees.”

She obeyed.

Itinuhog niya ulit si Stine mula sa likod, marahas—isang kamay nakasabunot sa buhok niya, ang isa’y mahigpit ang kapit sa baywang.

Walang awa ang bawat ulos niya, malalakas at sunod-sunod, habang napaungol si Alaric sa sensasyon ng masikip na lagusan ni Stine na kumakapit sa kanya.

“f**k, Stine… you’re gonna make me lose it…”

She pushed her hips back, matching his rhythm. “c*m inside me.”

That broke him.

He reached under her, rubbing her clit while pounding into her. Her body tensed.

“Oh god—Alaric—I’m gonna—f**k!”

She exploded around him, body shaking violently. Her moans echoed off the walls.

He wasn’t far behind. With a strangled groan, he slammed into her one last time, spilling inside her, hips twitching.

They both collapsed—sweaty, tangled, breathless.

But he wasn’t done.

Ten minutes later, he rolled her on top of him, guiding her back onto his c**k.

“Again.”

She rode him slowly at first, grinding her hips in circles. His hands explored every inch of her—breasts, hips, ass.

“Faster,” he ordered, smacking her ass.

Sumunod siya, mas madiing gumalaw sa ibabaw niya, at nagsanib ang mga ungol nila sa hangin. Kumakapit na ang buhok ni Stine sa pawisang mukha niya, habang ang pawis ay dumadaloy sa pagitan ng kanyang dibdib.

Sinupsop ulit ni Alaric ang u***g niya habang patuloy siyang bumbounce, at nilabasan siya na may sigaw—mahigpit na kumakapit ang lagusan niya sa kanya.

Agad siyang inihiga ulit ni Alaric—isa pang round, ngayon ay missionary. Hinalikan niya ang mga labi ni Stine, ang leeg, ang dibdib, habang dahan-dahan siyang kumakadyot—punô ng damdamin. Parang galit siya sa sarili sa sobrang pagmamahal dito.

At nang labasan siya ulit, tahimik lang. Mas banayad. Mas malapit. Mas masakit.

He buried his face into her neck and whispered, “Why do you feel like home?”

But she didn’t answer.

Because her heart was breaking.

MORNING

The sunlight didn’t feel warm. It felt cruel.

Stine opened her eyes slowly, heart thudding as she saw Alaric’s arm across her waist. His breathing was steady. Peaceful.

She wasn’t.

She slipped out of bed, picked up her clothes silently, and shut the bathroom door behind her.

One night.

One mistake.

One regret they would both carry.