Forbidden Desire

Chapter 6: The kiss that broke everything

The air was thick with tension, the soft jazz humming through the speakers of Logan’s car doing little to ease the rapid thumping in my chest. We hadn’t said much since he’d driven me home from the gallery. His hand lingered on the gearshift longer than necessary, brushing mine more than once. Each time it happened, my breath caught, and I hated how much I loved it.

I sat in the passenger seat, stealing glances at him—his jawline dusted with faint stubble, the way his eyes flicked from the road to me, full of questions and something dangerously close to hunger.

“Thanks for tonight,” I murmured, voice low.

He parked a block away from my apartment. "You’re not going to invite me in?" His voice was teasing, but the undercurrent of seriousness was unmistakable.

I turned to him. "I have a boyfriend."

He leaned in slightly. "Then why do I feel like you’re waiting for me to kiss you again?"

I didn’t answer. My heart was screaming yes, while my conscience begged me to say no.

His hand moved to my cheek, warm and possessive. I should’ve stopped him. I should’ve opened the door and walked away. But I didn’t.

The moment our lips touched, it was like a dam broke. Every look, every teasing word, every lingering stare from our past and present came rushing in. His kiss was not gentle—it was firm, claiming, and full of intent. I responded, my hands finding their way to his shoulders, his neck, pulling him closer. I’d never been kissed like that. Not by Daniel. Not by anyone.

And then, just as suddenly, I pulled back. My breathing was ragged, heart beating like a war drum.

"This is wrong," I whispered.

Logan’s eyes were dark and hooded. "But it doesn’t feel wrong."

I shook my head, fumbling with the door. "I need to go. I... can’t."

Before he could say more, I was out of the car and walking quickly down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete like a guilty heartbeat.

Inside my apartment, I leaned against the door, sliding down to the floor, fingers trembling. I had kissed Logan. Not in my imagination, not by accident. I let it happen. Worse—I wanted it.

Daniel’s face flashed in my mind. His kindness, his patience. The way he always showed up, always tried to make me laugh even after my worst shifts.

I stared at my phone. One missed call from Daniel. A message followed: "Hey babe, just checking in. Hope you got home okay. Miss you already."

I hated myself.

I took a long shower, hoping the guilt would wash off with the steam. But no amount of water could rinse the memory of Logan’s lips from my skin. I went to bed restless, the kiss haunting me like a ghost. My body burned with the memory of his touch, while my heart wrestled with shame.

The next morning, Daniel showed up with breakfast—like he always did on Saturdays.

“Surprise!” he said with a grin, holding up two cups of coffee and a paper bag full of croissants.

“Daniel...” I stepped back to let him in, panic blooming in my chest.

He kissed my forehead. “You okay? You look... tired.”

I forced a smile. “Just didn’t sleep much.”

We sat on the couch as he chatted about work. I nodded, answered when I had to, but my mind wasn’t with him. I watched him talk, his eyes full of love, and I wanted to scream. How did I end up here?

He leaned in to kiss me. I stiffened, but let him. It was soft and sweet, and it hurt more than Logan’s rough kiss ever could.

Guilt wrapped around me like a vice.

Later that evening, Logan sent a text.

Logan: You ran. I understand. But I’m not sorry.

Me: Please don’t make this harder.

Logan: Then don’t pretend you didn’t want it too.

I didn’t reply. What could I say?

A few days passed. Daniel and I went about our usual routine. He cooked, we cuddled, we made love—but I couldn’t stop comparing him to Logan. Logan’s presence lingered, intoxicating and forbidden.

One night, I found myself outside Logan’s condo. I hadn’t planned it. My feet just carried me there.

He opened the door, shirtless, eyes widening when he saw me.

"Emily..."

“I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered.

He stepped aside. “But you are.”

I walked in.

We didn’t talk much. His touch spoke louder than any words. Fingers trailed over my shoulders, down my back. He kissed me like he needed me to breathe. And I let him.

We fell into his bed like a storm.

After, we lay tangled in silence. My mind was chaos, but my body was content.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said.

“Then don’t stop,” Logan replied, brushing my hair off my face. “Don’t go back to him.”

I sat up, gathering my clothes. “It’s not that simple.”

He pulled me back. “It is, Emily. You’re not with him right now. You’re here. With me.”

“But I love him.”

“Do you?” he asked, voice low and challenging.

I didn’t answer. Because I didn’t know anymore.

The kiss had broken everything. My relationship, my sense of self, my careful control.

And maybe... just maybe, I didn’t want to put the pieces back together.