Giving In
428 Words
The storm swallowed the house.
Thunder cracked so loud it made my chest jump, and when the power died, the darkness felt intentional—like the world had decided to look away.
Mason stood in my doorway, rain dripping from his hair onto the floor, his shirt clinging to his body. His eyes locked onto mine like he’d been searching for me all night.
“Say it,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me to leave.”
I didn’t move.
The door closed behind him.
Slowly.
The sound echoed in my ears as he stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the heat rolling off him. His hand lifted, stopping inches from my face, like he was asking without words.
When his fingers finally touched me—brushing my jaw, sliding into my hair—I shivered.
“You have no idea how hard this has been,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Thinking about you. Wanting you. Pretending I don’t.”
My breath came uneven. “Then don’t pretend.”
His mouth crashed into mine.
The kiss was hungry, nothing hesitant about it now. He kissed me like he’d been starved, like every second apart had been punishment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me into him, and I felt just how much he’d been holding back.
I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, slow and relentless. When he backed me against the wall, his body caged me in—not trapping, but protecting.
“You feel too good,” he muttered against my skin, lips trailing along my jaw, my neck. “Tell me to stop.”
I tangled my fingers in his wet hair instead.
That was answer enough.
His hands moved with purpose now—confident, reverent—like he wanted to memorize every inch of me. When his mouth returned to mine, it was softer, slower, devastating in a different way.
I didn’t know how long we stood there, breathing each other in, bodies pressed together, the storm roaring outside like it knew.
Eventually, he rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard.
“If we keep going,” he said, voice rough, “I won’t be able to walk away.”
I smiled, heart pounding.
“Then don’t.”
He kissed me once more—deep, lingering, promising everything we weren’t ready to face yet.
And when he finally pulled away, leaving me trembling and breathless, I knew one thing for certain:
This wasn’t just desire.
This was the beginning of something dangerous.
- Writer
