It was getting harder to think clearly around him.
Not gradually.
Not slowly.
All at once.
I noticed it in the way my thoughts scattered the moment he got close.
The way my body reacted before I could stop it.
The way everything I used to hold onto—logic, caution, control—slipped further out of reach every time he looked at me like that.
Like I was already his.
That thought alone should have been enough to make me step back.
To create distance.
To remind myself of everything I had been trying to protect.
But instead…
It did the opposite.
It pulled me closer.
"You're doing it again."
His voice was low, steady, and far too close.
I inhaled sharply, my heart reacting instantly as I turned to face him.
"How do you always know?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
He just watched me.
Carefully.
Like he was studying every reaction, every shift, every unspoken thought.
"Because you look like you're trying to convince yourself of something," he said finally.
I frowned slightly.
"And what exactly am I trying to convince myself of?"
"That you're still in control."
My breath caught.
I crossed my arms, more out of reflex than confidence.
"I am in control."
A small, almost amused smile touched his lips.
"No," he said quietly.
"You're not."
Something in my chest tightened at how easily he said it.
How certain he sounded.
"You don't get to decide that," I replied, my voice softer than I intended.
"I don't need to," he said.
"You show me every time I get close."
My heart skipped.
Before I could respond, he stepped forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Closing the distance between us like it meant nothing.
Like he knew I wouldn't stop him.
And he was right.
I didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Didn't even try.
"See?" he murmured.
My breath hitched as the space between us disappeared completely.
This was the problem.
No matter how much I told myself I needed space…
The moment he was this close—
I forgot why.
"You're proving my point," he added quietly.
I swallowed, my pulse racing.
"Or maybe I just don't feel like arguing," I said.
"Liar."
The word was soft.
Not accusing.
Just… certain.
My chest tightened.
"Why do you do that?" I asked.
"Do what?"
"Act like you know everything I'm feeling."
He didn't hesitate.
"Because I do."
Silence.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"You don't," I said quietly.
"Then tell me I'm wrong."
My lips parted slightly.
But no words came out.
Because I couldn't.
Because he wasn't wrong.
And that was the most frustrating part of all.
"You hate that," he said softly.
I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head.
"I hate that you're right," I admitted.
A faint smile returned to his lips.
"I know."
I rolled my eyes slightly, but there was no real resistance behind it anymore.
Just… acceptance.
This was who we were now.
Constant tension.
Constant pull.
Constant… something I couldn't fully define.
But whatever it was—
It was getting stronger.
And I wasn't sure how much longer I could pretend it wasn't.
"You keep letting me in," he said suddenly.
My brows pulled together slightly.
"What?"
He stepped even closer—if that was even possible.
"You say you want control," he continued, his voice lower now, more intense.
"But every time I get close… you don't stop me."
My heart pounded harder.
"I could," I said softly.
"But you don't."
Silence.
Again.
Because he was right.
Again.
"I don't know why," I admitted quietly.
That was the truth.
The part I couldn't explain.
I didn't know why I kept letting him in.
Why I kept staying.
Why I kept choosing this—choosing him—over and over again.
But I did.
Every time.
His gaze softened slightly, just enough for me to notice.
"You don't need a reason," he said.
I looked at him, my chest tightening again.
"Yes, I do," I replied.
"No," he said calmly.
"You just need to stop pretending you don't want it."
My breath caught.
There it was again.
That truth I kept trying to avoid.
"I do want it," I said before I could stop myself.
The words hung in the air.
Heavy.
Final.
And for a second—
Neither of us moved.
Because that was it.
The truth.
Completely unfiltered.
Something in his expression shifted again.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Something deeper.
Something that made my heart race even faster.
"Say it again," he said quietly.
I hesitated.
"Why?"
"Because I want to hear you admit it."
My pulse spiked.
"You already heard me."
"Not like that," he said.
My chest tightened.
"You're impossible," I muttered.
"And you're avoiding it," he replied.
I let out a quiet breath, shaking my head slightly.
"Fine," I said softly.
I met his gaze fully this time.
No hesitation.
No hiding.
"I want you," I whispered.
The moment the words left my lips—
Everything changed.
Not subtly.
Not slowly.
Instantly.
The air between us shifted again.
Heavier.
Hotter.
More intense than anything before.
His jaw tightened slightly, his gaze darkening in a way that made my heart skip.
"That's dangerous," he said quietly.
"I know," I replied.
And I did.
I knew exactly how dangerous it was to say that.
To admit it.
To feel it this strongly.
But I also knew…
I wasn't taking it back.
Not now.
Not anymore.
His hand lifted slowly, brushing against my arm again.
This time…
The reaction was stronger.
Sharper.
Deeper.
More intense.
My breath caught as a wave of something overwhelming rushed through me.
"You don't even realize what you're doing to me," he murmured.
My chest tightened.
"What am I doing?"
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, his hand slid slightly, his fingers tracing lightly, deliberately.
"You make it hard to stay in control," he said finally.
My heart skipped.
The irony of that statement hit me instantly.
Because that's exactly how I felt.
"Maybe I don't want you to," I said softly.
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
And just like that—
The balance between us shifted again.
This wasn't just him pulling me in anymore.
I was pulling him too.
And that realization…
It changed everything.
Because now—
It wasn't just about losing control.
It was about choosing to.
And for the first time…
I wasn't afraid of that.
Not with him.
Not like this.
Because the truth was…
I didn't want control anymore.
I wanted him.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.