Want
834 Words
Kai didn’t come back the next night.
That should have been a relief for her.
Instead, Ava spent the evening restless, pacing her apartment like something unfinished lived in the corners. His absence felt deliberate—calculated in the same way everything about him seemed to be. She told herself she should be grateful for the space.
Her body disagreed.
By midnight, the quiet pressed too hard. Ava stood by the window, city lights glowing below, her reflection faint against the glass. She barely recognized herself anymore—the tension in her posture, the awareness humming beneath her skin. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.
A knock broke the silence.
This time, she smiled before she could stop herself.
Kai stood there without a jacket, sleeves rolled up, dark shirt clinging just enough to make the restraint feel intentional. His gaze moved over her with quiet approval—not hungry, not rushed. Assessing.
“You waited,” he said.
“I didn’t,” she lied.
His mouth curved faintly. “You did.”
She stepped back, letting him in again. The door shut softly behind him, sealing them inside the charged quiet of her apartment. Kai didn’t hesitate this time. He crossed the space between them, stopping close enough that she had to tilt her head to look up at him.
“You’re restless,” he murmured.
Ava swallowed. “You don’t get to decide that.”
His hand lifted, thumb brushing just beneath her chin, tipping her face upward. The touch was light but commanding, sending a shiver through her.
“I do,” he said, “when your pulse gives you away.”
Her breath hitched. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Yes,” he admitted without shame. “And so are you.”
He kissed her slowly, deeply, like he had all the time in the world. Ava melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling into fabric as if anchoring herself. The kiss grew heavier, warmer, filled with unspoken need. Kai’s hand slid to her waist, fingers spreading, holding her steady as her body leaned instinctively closer.
When his mouth moved from hers to her jaw, then lower, Ava gasped softly. His lips lingered at her throat, not biting, not rushing—just enough to make her ache. She felt the restraint in him like a live wire.
“Kai,” she breathed.
He stilled at the sound of his name, forehead resting against her collarbone. “Say it again.”
She did.
That broke something.
His hands tightened at her hips, pulling her flush against him. The closeness made her dizzy, the awareness of his body undeniable. He kissed her again—harder this time, deeper, stealing her breath. Ava responded without hesitation, her body arching into him, heat blooming low and insistent.
He broke the kiss abruptly, breathing hard.
“Look at me,” he said.
She did.
His eyes were dark now, intent, stripped of humor. “This isn’t casual,” he said again, voice rough. “This isn’t a moment you forget in the morning.”
“I know,” she whispered.
His thumb brushed her lower lip, gentle despite the intensity burning behind his eyes. “You’re shaking.”
“So are you,” she said.
That earned her a quiet laugh, sharp and real. “Good.”
Kai guided her backward until the backs of her knees met the couch. He didn’t push her down. He let her choose.
Ava sat.
He followed, settling beside her, close but not touching for a heartbeat that felt like torture. Then his arm came around her shoulders, pulling her into him, her head resting against his chest. The intimacy of it was unexpected—quiet, grounding, intimate in a way that made her chest ache.
She could feel his heartbeat. Strong. Steady.
“This,” he murmured into her hair, “is harder than the rest.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Then why do it?”
“Because I want you,” he said simply. “And because I don’t want to hurt you.”
The honesty undid her.
Ava tilted her head up, kissing him again—slower, softer, but no less charged. This kiss wasn’t about restraint. It was about consent, about want spoken without words. Kai’s hand slid along her back, warm and steady, making her sigh against his mouth.
They remained like that for a long time—kissing, touching, learning each other’s reactions without crossing the line he’d drawn. Every brush of skin felt deliberate. Every breath felt shared.
When Kai finally pulled away, Ava felt the loss sharply.
“Soon,” he promised quietly.
She believed him.
As he left later, Ava stood in the doorway, watching him disappear down the hall. Her body still hummed, her heart full and unsettled.
She closed the door and leaned back against it, eyes closed.
She wasn’t falling.
She was choosing.
And that made all the difference.
- Writer
