Chapter 3 I Shouldn’t Want Him This Much
1466 Words
Leila
Morning light creeps through the thin motel curtains like it’s trying not to get caught.
I wake up slowly, the way you do after a night that burned through your bones.
For a second, I forget where I am.
Then I feel the heat beside me.
Solid.Male.
My breath siezes.
Last night wasn’t a drunken hallucination.
I turn my head.
He’s still asleep.
And damn.
The man looks even more dangerous in daylight.
Dark hair messy against the pillow. Thick shoulders. Scars across his chest that tell stories one could dream about.
My gaze drifts lower before my brain catches up.
Right.
Clothes.
Or… the lack of them.
I press my lips together.
Well, s**t.
I sit up carefully, the motel bed creaking like it’s judging me.
Memories flash through my head in pieces.
The bar.
His hand on my waist.
The way he said my name like I was his.
The way my body.
Nope.
Not going there yet.
I swing my legs off the bed and reach for my jeans.
Behind me the mattress shifts.
A deep voice rumbles from the pillow.
“Running already?”
I freeze.
Slowly I turn around.
He’s awake now, one arm behind his head, watching me with a crooked smile that should probably be illegal.
“Morning,” he says.
Like we’re a normal couple.
Like we didn’t meet twelve hours ago in a bar and tear into each other like starving animals.
I clear my throat.
“Morning.”
He watches me pull on my shirt.
Not subtly either.
Just… openly enjoying the view.
“Most people at least say goodbye first,” he adds.
My eyebrow lifts.
“Most people don’t wake up in a cheap motel with a stranger.”
His grin widens.
“Didn’t seem like a problem last night.”
Heat rushes to my face.
I grab my boots.
“You’re very confident for someone whose name I don’t know.”
“Victor.”
He says it simply.
Like the word carries weight.
The name settles in the room for a second.
I shrug.
“Leila.”
“I replied.”
My mind was trying to drift back to last night…
Nope.
Focus.
I shove my foot into my boot.
“Look, Victor… last night was fun.”
He tilts his head.
“Fun.”
“Yeah.”
“You usually call nights like that fun?”
My stomach flips at the memory flashing behind his eyes.
I cross my arms.
“Don’t make it weird.”
He laughs.
Low and rough.
“Too late for that, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
The word should annoy me.
Instead, it sends a tiny spark through my chest.
Annoying.
Very annoying.
I grab my jacket from the chair.
“I should go.”
“Why?”
The question is simple.
But something about it lands heavier than it should.
I glance back.
He’s sitting up now.
Sheets low on his hips.
God help me.
This man was built like trouble.
“You planning on keeping me here?” I ask dryly.
His gaze drifts slowly down my body.
Then back up.
“Tempting.”
My pulse stumbles.
I force a scoff.
“You’re impossible.”
“Didn’t seem to bother you last night.”
“Okay, you really need new material.”
“Or you need better excuses.”
I grab my bag.
He watches me like a wolf watching a rabbit that wandered too close.
Not predatory exactly.
Just… interested.
Dangerously interested.
I move toward the door.
My hand touches the knob.
Then his voice stops me.
“Leila.”
I look back.
He’s watching me differently now.
Less teasing.
More… something else.
“Yeah?”
“You regret it?”
The question hangs in the air.
Simple.
But not simple at all.
Because the honest answer?
I hesitate.
And he notices.
His mouth curves slightly.
“Thought so.”
“Don’t read into it,” I snap.
He chuckles.
“Too late.”
I shake my head.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re still here.”
He’s not wrong.
I should leave.
This is the kind of man people write warnings about.
The kind that drags you into chaos before you even realise you stepped closer.
And yet.
My feet move back toward the bed.
Just a step.
Then another.
I could swear I saw His pupils change for a second.
“See?” he murmurs.
“Shut up.”
His hand reaches out slowly.
waiting.
Like he already knows I’ll take it.
And damn it.
I do.
His fingers close around mine.
Warm.Strong.
He pulls gently until I’m standing between his knees.
“You’re trouble,” I mutter.
“Yeah.”
No denial.
None at all.
His thumb brushes my wrist.
My pulse jumps.
“Then why are you still here?” he asks softly.
I swallow.
“Maybe I’m stupid.”
His eyes flicker.
“No.”
His hand slides to my waist.
Firm in a Possessive way.
“Not stupid.”
My breath hitches.
“Then what?” I ask
His voice drops.
“Curious.”
My stomach flips.
He tilts his head slightly.
“About what?” I ask again
I meet his gaze.
“About you.”
Something shifts in his eyes.
Something darker.
More complicated.
But then his smirk returns.
“Careful, sweetheart.”
“Why?”
“Curiosity gets people into dangerous situations.”
“Funny,” I murmur.
“Feels like I’m already there.”
His hand tightens slightly on my waist.
My heart thumps harder.
“You have no idea.”
There’s something in the way he says it.
A shadow behind the words.
But before I can ask—
His other hand slides into my hair.
Gentle.
My breath seizes.
“Victor—” I call
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“That look.”
He leans closer.
“So stop me.”
Our lips hover inches apart.
The air between us practically vibrating.
I should step back.
I should definitely step back.
Instead, I whisper,
“You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Only when I’m right.”
“And you think you’re right now?”
His mouth curves slowly.
“Oh, I know I am.”
Then he kisses me.
Not rushed.
Just slow,
Like he has all the time in the world.
Like he’s learning the shape of my mouth.
My hands slide to his shoulders before I can stop them.
Muscle shifts under my fingers.
His grip tightens slightly.
The kiss deepens.
And—
I stop myself before it goes further.
I just lay down and he held me for a minute.
Later…
I’m lying on my back staring at the motel ceiling.
My hair is a mess.
My heart is still racing.
Elias sits on the edge of the bed pulling on his boots like this was the most normal morning in the world.
“You always this quiet after?” he asks.
I snort.
“You always this cocky after?”
He glances over his shoulder.
“Worked, didn’t it?”
I throw a pillow at him.
He catches it easily.
Laughing.
Then his phone buzzes on the table.
The shift in him is instant.
The teasing disappears.
He checks the screen.
Jaw tightens.
“Problem?” I ask.
He slips the phone into his pocket.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
That answer does not inspire confidence.
I sit up.
“Sounds reassuring.”
He stands.
Something about him changed the moment he put on his jacket.
“You heading back to the bar?” I ask.
“Somewhere like that.” He replies
I watch him.
“You always this mysterious?”
“Only on Tuesdays.”
“It’s Saturday.”
“Then you’re getting the deluxe version.”
I roll my eyes.
But something inside me twists.
“Guess this is goodbye then.”
He studies me for a moment.
Like he’s deciding something.
Then he reaches into his pocket and places a small card on the nightstand.
Black.
Simple.
Just a number.
“No name?” I ask.
“You already know that part.”
“And if I don’t call?”
His smile is slow.
Dangerous.
“Something tells me you will.”
He walks to the door.
Then pauses.
Glances back.
“One more thing, Leila.”
“Yeah?”
His gaze lingers a second longer than it should.
“You might want to stay away from bars.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Why?”
His smile sharpens.
“Because you never know who you might meet?”
I freeze.
Then he leaves.
And for some reason…
I have the strangest feeling I did something I would come to regret.
- Writer
