Desire Next Door

2

He unpacked a few boxes, arranging his meager belongings with little care. A photo of Mirrie and him from their honeymoon caught his eye, and he froze. She was grinning, her hair windswept from the ocean breeze, her arm wrapped tightly around his waist as if she’d never let go. He set the picture on the nightstand, his fingers lingering on the frame.

“Maybe I can start over,” he said aloud, though his voice sounded hollow in the empty room.

It wasn’t just the town that was new. It was everything—the people, the routine, the way the air smelled fresher here. He didn’t know if he could ever truly let go of Mirrie, but he owed it to her memory to try.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of lavender and gold, Dannie stepped out onto the small balcony attached to his apartment. The view wasn’t spectacular—just a row of rooftops and the faint outline of a forest in the distance—but it was peaceful.

And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope.

The golden hues of the sunset painted the walls of Dannie’s new apartment, casting long, soft shadows as he sat by the window. He cradled a steaming mug of tea, though the warmth of it seemed cold compared to the memories flooding his mind. The sky outside was breathtaking, with streaks of amber and crimson fading into twilight—a palette that reminded him of her. Mirrie. His Mirrie.

The memory of their wedding night stirred within him, vivid and visceral, as though it had happened only yesterday. They had been wrapped in the intoxicating euphoria of their vows, the weight of the world forgotten as they entered the opulent honeymoon suite. The room was bathed in the warm glow of golden lamps, the faint aroma of roses filling the air from petals scattered on the bed and floor. Outside, the city lights twinkled through the tall windows, but nothing could hold his gaze like the sight of her.

Mirrie stood by the bed, her figure cloaked in a silk pink dress that flowed like liquid against her skin, catching the light and shimmering softly with her every movement. Her dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, framing her radiant face. Her lips—painted in a soft shade of rose—curved into a smile that could stop time itself. She was breathtaking, a vision of beauty so ethereal that Dannie almost felt unworthy to stand in her presence.

But then she looked at him. That gaze, deep and unwavering, as though she saw every corner of his soul and embraced it. It grounded him, reminded him that this extraordinary woman was his. His wife. His partner. His everything.

Dannie stood across the room, his heart hammering in his chest as he drank in the sight of her. He was clad in a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and dark trousers that fit his tall, muscular frame. The adrenaline of the day still coursed through him, but it wasn’t exhaustion he felt—it was anticipation. The kind that lit a fire in his veins and pulled him toward her like a moth to a flame.

Mirrie tilted her head, her smile widening as she noticed the hunger in his eyes. She took a single step toward him, her bare feet silent against the plush carpet. “What?” she asked softly, her voice teasing, but her cheeks flushed as his intense gaze lingered on her.

“You,” he replied, his voice low and husky, his steps purposeful as he crossed the room to stand before her. “You’re... everything, Mirrie. I don’t even know how I got this lucky.”

She laughed softly, her hands instinctively reaching out to him. Her fingers grazed his chest, tracing the firm lines of his torso. She felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm, strong and sure, a reflection of the man she had chosen to spend her life with. “Lucky? I think I’m the lucky one,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as her hand moved upward, brushing over his collarbone.

He leaned down, closing the distance between them. His large hand reached up to cradle the side of her neck, his fingers curling gently but firmly around her delicate skin. It wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t timid either—his touch spoke of possession, of devotion, of a man who was utterly captivated. His thumb traced small circles against her jawline as he brought his face closer to hers.

Their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and searing, an explosion of emotions that had been building all day. She melted against him, her body pressing against the hard planes of his chest as he pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist. Her toes barely touched the ground as he lifted her slightly, his strength evident in the ease with which he held her.

Mirrie broke the kiss for a moment, her eyes fluttering open to look up at him. The way she gazed at him—pure, unfiltered adoration shining in her hazel eyes—made his breath hitch. She smiled then, a playful, mischievous curve of her lips that sent a shiver down his spine. “You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mix of certainty and desire. “Forever.”

“Forever,” he echoed, his voice rough with emotion. He leaned in again, capturing her lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His fingers tangled in her hair as he tilted her head back, allowing him to explore her mouth with a hunger that was almost primal.

Her hands slid down his chest, her fingertips grazing the contours of his abdomen. She marveled at the strength beneath her touch, the sculpted perfection of his body that seemed made just for her. A heat stirred within her, spreading like wildfire through her veins. She wanted him—not just his touch, but his presence, his soul, his love. Every part of him.