Chapter 3: The Kiss That Haunts Us
Mila's breath hitched as she stared at him in the quiet hallway. The weight of what happened last night pressed down on her like a storm she couldn't outrun.
The kiss. The way his lips had brushed hers—soft but electric—replayed in her mind on an endless loop, stealing her focus. She swallowed hard, trying to steady the wild thudding in her chest.
"You don't have to pretend with me," he said, voice low and rough, breaking the silence like a blade. His gaze flickered over her lips, lingering just a heartbeat longer than it should.
She blinked, caught off guard. "Pretend? I'm not pretending." But even as the words left her mouth, she knew the lie tasted bitter. Pretending wasn't exactly new.
He stepped closer, too close—close enough that she could see the tiny flicker of doubt in his eyes and feel the heat radiating from him. "Mila, you know what that was last night. It wasn't just a mistake."
Her pulse quickened, and for a moment, all she wanted was to reach out and touch him again. To feel that reckless warmth. Instead, she shook her head, forcing the words out through tight lips. "It was… confusing. You're her fiancé. I shouldn't want this."
He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Neither should I." His gaze locked on hers, searching, as if trying to find an answer between the chaos. His voice dropped an octave, smooth and dangerous. "But wanting doesn't always listen to reason."
Mila's fingers curled into fists at her sides. "Why did you kiss me if it meant nothing?" she demanded, voice cracking.
He hesitated, like every word cost him. Then, "Because I didn't want to stop. Because something about you… it pulled me in." His eyes darkened, almost hypnotic.
A rush of heat spread through her, but so did fear. "You don't even know me."
"Maybe I do. More than you think." His eyes held hers, heavy with secrets. "And maybe that's the problem."
The hallway suddenly felt too small, the space between them charged with everything they weren't saying. Mila's heart slammed against her ribs, loud enough she was sure he could hear.
Her voice barely above a whisper, she asked, "What now?"
He stepped back, the tension snapping just enough to give her room to breathe. "Now? We pretend this never happened."
She bit her lip, swallowing the ache that twisted her insides. "Pretending is the hardest thing I've ever done."
He gave a crooked smile, a flicker of something almost like hope and something dangerously tempting. "Maybe we don't have to pretend."
Mila's breath caught again, torn between the past and what could be.
Then, without warning, his phone buzzed sharply. He glanced at the screen, then back at her, his expression unreadable.
"This isn't over," he said, voice low, almost a promise. "Not by a long shot."
And with that, he turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Mila alone with the kiss—and the questions—that haunted her most.
End of chapter 3.
The truth that haunts them wasn't going anywhere. Neither were they.
What does he really want from Mila?
Can Mila trust him, or is he hiding something dangerous?
Will the kiss change everything between them — or destroy them both?
How far will Mila go to keep her secret buried?
Is this forbidden attraction worth the risk?
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