Chapter 12: Caught Between Fire and Sin
1391 Words
Lyra's POV
Mira’s soft breathing was the only thing keeping me sane.
She lay curled beneath the blankets, her tiny hands gripping the edge of the pillow, her lips slightly parted as she slept. I envied her peace. She didn’t know the chaos unfolding around her, the tangled war I had been pulled into.
I watched her, trying to absorb her stillness, trying to convince myself that everything was normal. That I was just a nanny in a beautiful estate, taking care of a little girl. That my world hadn’t tilted on its axis the moment Leo Weston touched me.
But I knew better.
The moment Leo kissed me, everything changed.
The heat of his mouth was still imprinted on my skin, his touch lingering like an invisible brand. No matter how hard I tried to push it away, it stayed. Just like he did.
Leo was a storm—powerful, relentless, impossible to ignore. He entered a room, and everything shifted. People either feared him, respected him, or tried to stay out of his way. I had been one of the latter. I had promised myself that whatever history lay between us, whatever dangerous chemistry crackled in the air when he was near, I wouldn’t let it pull me under.
But then he kissed me.
And I let him.
I should have pulled away. Should have reminded myself of the boundaries, the rules I had set in place. But the second his lips touched mine, logic ceased to exist. There was only warmth and longing and the aching truth that, despite everything, I had never stopped wanting him.
Now, everything was different.
I couldn't just pretend it hadn't happened, couldn't erase the way his hands had framed my face as if I were something precious, something worth holding onto. The way his breath had mixed with mine, heavy with restraint, like he was holding back from taking more.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine.
I wrapped my arms around myself, glancing back at Mira. She sighed in her sleep, shifting slightly, unaware of the war raging inside me.
I wished I could be like her: innocent, untouched by the weight of complicated emotions. But I had lived too much, felt too deeply. I knew what it meant to get too close to a man like Leo Weston.
Danger. Temptation. Heartache.
And Adrian…
Adrian wasn’t going anywhere either.
I was caught between them, between two men who refused to let me go, like a rope being pulled from both ends, fraying under the tension.
How had I let this happen?
I was stronger than this. I wasn’t the kind of woman who let men dictate her fate. And yet, every time Leo looked at me with that dark, knowing gaze, every time his body pressed too close, my own betrayed me.
I needed air.
With a final glance at Mira, I turned and slipped out of her room, my bare feet silent against the cold hardwood floor. The house was quiet, but it was a deceptive kind of quiet.
Leo’s presence was everywhere.
Even when I wasn’t with him, I felt him.
He had taken root inside me, weaving himself into my thoughts, into my breath, into the way my pulse quickened at the sound of approaching footsteps.
I hated it.
I hated him.
I hated the way my body didn’t seem to agree with me.
I moved downstairs, my fingers trailing along the banister, trying to steady myself. When I reached the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of water, drinking deeply, desperate for something: anything,to calm my nerves.
It didn’t work.
Nothing did.
Then
The kitchen door swung open.
I spun around, my breath catching.
Leo.
His dark gaze locked onto mine, and instantly, the air shifted.
I felt it in my bones, in my pulse, in the way my skin prickled with awareness.
He didn’t say anything at first.
He just watched me.
And just like that, my body betrayed me all over again.
"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was low, rough around the edges.
I swallowed, setting the glass down before my fingers could tremble. "No. I... I just needed some air."
He stepped closer. Slow. Intentional. Like a lion closing in on its prey.
"Air?" He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the word. "Or space?"
My stomach clenched.
He knew.
He always knew.
"You think I don't notice the way you avoid me?" His voice dropped, dark and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. "You pretend like nothing happened. Like you don’t feel this."
I took a step back, but he followed.
Every step I took, he matched it.
Until my back hit the counter.
Trapped.
I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to hold my ground. "Leo, this—"
"Don't." He shook his head, his eyes burning into mine. "Don't stand there and tell me you don’t want this."
I opened my mouth to protest, to throw out some lie about how this wasn’t real, how he didn’t affect me
But then he reached out.
His fingers brushed my jaw, tilting my chin up, forcing my eyes to stay on his.
My breath stilled.
"Look at me," he commanded softly.
I did.
I hated myself for it.
Because the moment our eyes met, the moment I saw that dark, consuming hunger in his gaze, I knew.
I was already lost.
"This is real," he murmured.
I hated him for being right.
Hated him for the way my heart raced at his touch.
Hated him for the way my body leaned in without permission.
"Leo..."
I didn’t even know what I was about to say.
But I never got the chance.
Because then
He kissed me.
And I fell.
I gasped against his lips, but he swallowed the sound, taking control of the kiss in a way that made my knees weak.
His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, like he needed me as much as I needed air.
I should have fought.
I should have pulled away.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
The way he kissed me: like he was branding me, claiming me, set fire to every nerve in my body.
My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, desperate for something to hold on to as the world spun out of control.
He groaned into my mouth, his grip tightening.
Then
In one swift motion, he lifted me onto the counter.
I gasped, my legs instinctively wrapping around him as he stepped between them.
The heat between us was suffocating.
His mouth left mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jaw, my throat, my collarbone.
"You feel that?" His voice was thick with need, his breath hot against my skin. "Tell me you don’t want this."
I couldn’t.
Because I wanted him.
I wanted him too much.
His hands slid under my thighs, gripping tightly, making me gasp.
"I tried to be patient," he murmured against my skin, his lips trailing lower. "Tried to let you come to me on your own."
His teeth scraped against my pulse point, and I whimpered.
His smirk pressed against my skin.
"But you just love running, don't you?"
"Leo," I breathed, my hands clutching at his shirt, trying to ground myself.
But he wasn’t done with me yet.
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes.
“You’re mine, Lyra.”
His words sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and pure, unfiltered desire.
I opened my mouth: to argue, to say anything,but then
A noise.
A creak.
The hallway.
We both froze.
Panic slammed into me like a wave of ice.
Mira.
My heart lurched.
I shoved against Leo’s chest, scrambling off the counter, my breath ragged.
"I need to check on Mira," I whispered, guilt and panic clawing at me.
Leo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop me.
He just watched. Watched as I ran.
As I fled up the stairs, my pulse hammering in my ears.
At Mira’s door, I pressed my forehead against the wood, trying to breathe.
Trying to erase the feel of his hands.
His mouth. His claim. But I couldn’t.
Because no matter how hard I fought it: Leo Weston had already won again.
And i wasn’t sure if I even wanted to escape.
- Writer
