Chapter 8 – Forbidden Desire
I knew this was wrong.
That was the first clear thought that settled in my mind the moment I was alone again.
Not confused. Not uncertain.
Just… wrong.
I leaned back against the door after closing it, my fingers still wrapped around the handle as if letting go would somehow make everything real all over again. My chest rose and fell unevenly, my breathing refusing to settle, my heart still racing like I had just run from something.
But I hadn't run.
That was the problem.
I hadn't walked away.
I slid down slowly until I was sitting on the floor, my back pressed against the door, my head falling back as I stared at the ceiling.
"What are you doing?" I whispered to myself.
The question lingered in the silence, unanswered.
Because I didn't know anymore.
I wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not over someone like him. Not this fast. Not this intensely.
It didn't make sense.
Nothing about it did.
And yet…
Every time he was close, everything inside me reacted like it did. Like it belonged there. Like it had been waiting for him.
I shut my eyes tightly, pressing my palms against them as if I could block it out.
But it didn't work.
Because the memories were already there.
The way he looked at me.
The way he spoke—calm, certain, like he already knew how I would respond.
The way his touch lingered long after it ended.
I exhaled sharply, dropping my hands.
"This isn't you," I muttered.
But it didn't sound convincing anymore.
Because maybe…
Maybe it was.
That thought unsettled me more than anything else.
The next day felt heavier than usual.
Not because anything had changed on the outside. Everything was the same—the same routine, the same surroundings, the same people.
But inside?
Nothing felt the same.
I was more aware.
Of myself.
Of my reactions.
Of the way my thoughts kept drifting back to him no matter how much I tried to focus on something else.
It was frustrating.
Exhausting.
And yet…
A small part of me didn't want it to stop.
That realization hit me unexpectedly, catching me off guard.
I paused mid-step, frowning slightly at my own thoughts.
"No," I said under my breath, shaking my head. "That's not true."
But it was.
And I knew it.
I continued walking, trying to push the feeling aside, but it stayed—quiet, persistent, impossible to ignore.
By the time evening came, the tension inside me had built into something I couldn't quite contain. It wasn't just about him anymore.
It was about what he made me feel.
What he made me realize.
And what I was slowly losing control over.
I stepped outside, the cool air brushing against my skin, grounding me just slightly. I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my mind.
For a moment…
It worked.
Until—
"You're thinking too much again."
My entire body tensed.
I didn't have to turn around to know it was him.
I knew.
Slowly, I faced him.
He was standing a few steps away, hands in his pockets, his gaze already fixed on me like he had been watching for a while.
"How do you do that?" I asked quietly.
"Do what?"
"Show up exactly when I'm trying not to think about you."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Maybe you weren't trying that hard."
My breath caught slightly.
There it was again.
That way he said things—so simple, yet so precise.
"You don't know what I'm thinking," I said, trying to hold my ground.
He stepped closer.
"You're right," he said calmly. "I don't."
He paused for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly.
"But I can see it."
My chest tightened.
"See what?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he moved closer again—slow, deliberate, giving me enough time to step back if I wanted to.
But I didn't.
I stayed exactly where I was.
And that was my mistake.
"Conflict," he said finally. "You're fighting something."
I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening.
"I'm not—"
"You are," he cut in gently, not harsh, not forceful—just certain. "And you're losing."
The words hit deeper than I expected.
Because they were true.
I looked away briefly, trying to regain control of the moment. "You think you know everything."
"I don't need to know everything," he replied. "Just enough."
"And what is that?"
His gaze held mine, steady, unwavering.
"That you feel this too."
Silence fell between us.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
I wanted to deny it.
I should deny it.
But the words wouldn't come.
Because denying it now felt pointless.
"You keep coming back," he added quietly.
My breath caught.
"So do you," I pointed out.
A small smile formed on his lips. "That's different."
"How?"
"Because I'm not pretending I shouldn't."
That hit harder than anything else.
I blinked, caught off guard.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," he said, stepping closer again, "I'm not fighting this."
The space between us disappeared slowly, inch by inch, until I could feel the warmth of him again.
And just like that—
Everything inside me reacted.
My heart started racing.
My breathing shifted.
My thoughts blurred.
I hated how easily it happened.
Hated how little control I seemed to have when he was this close.
"This isn't right," I said again, softer this time.
"Then why does it feel like it is?"
I didn't answer.
Because I couldn't.
Because he was right.
And that was the most dangerous part.
Nothing about this made sense.
But it felt right in a way I couldn't explain.
He studied me quietly, his gaze softer now, less teasing, more… understanding.
"You don't have to decide anything right now," he said.
I frowned slightly. "What?"
"You're trying to label it. Control it. Push it into something that makes sense."
My chest tightened at how accurate that was.
"And I can't?" I asked.
"You can try," he said. "But it won't change how you feel."
Silence settled between us again, but this time it felt different.
Less tense.
More… real.
I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, I didn't just see the confidence, the control, the intensity.
I saw something else.
Something quieter.
Something that made this even more complicated.
"You're not even trying to stop this," I said softly.
"No," he admitted.
"Why?"
Another pause.
Then—
"Because I don't want to."
My breath caught.
Simple.
Honest.
Dangerous.
I looked away, my thoughts spinning again, but this time it felt different.
Less like I was fighting something…
And more like I was standing on the edge of it.
And deciding whether to fall.
"This is a bad idea," I said quietly.
"Probably," he agreed.
I blinked, surprised. "That's it?"
He shrugged slightly. "Not everything that's a bad idea is wrong."
That line lingered.
Settled.
And changed something.
Because suddenly, it wasn't just about right or wrong anymore.
It was about choice.
And for the first time…
I wasn't sure I wanted to choose the safe option.
The silence stretched, but neither of us moved.
Neither of us stepped away.
And that said more than anything else could have.
Because deep down…
We both knew.
This wasn't something we could ignore anymore.
This wasn't something we could walk away from easily.
This was something else.
Something stronger.
Something dangerous.
Something… forbidden.
And the worst part?
I didn't want it to stop.