Page 20 of Misconducts & Temptation

"Who are you?" I asked again, my grip firm but not painful.

For a moment, neither of us moved or spoke. Her green eyes were wide and full of secrets. She was hiding something—something big.

Her lips parted as if she was about to say something, but then she clamped them shut again. I could see the internal battle raging within her. It was as if she wanted to tell me but didn't trust me enough yet.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“You know me,” I pointed out, taking another drag from my cigarette.

“Not really,” she replied, watching the smoke curl around us.

An idea sparked in my mind, and I cocked my head to the side. “You wanna do something bad, babes?”

“I’m not going to smoke,” she said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No?” I took a long drag, feeling the warmth fill my lungs. I lowered my face to hers, close enough to see the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. To my surprise, she didn’t pull away.

Our lips touched, and I exhaled slowly, letting the smoke drift from my mouth into hers. She didn’t move; she held her breath, her eyes wide but steady on mine. The moment was charged with an unexpected sensuality, far more intense than most of the sex I'd had.

The smoke curled around our tongues and slid down our throats. Her breath hitched slightly as she inhaled. I could feel the heat of her skin through the small space between us.

When we finally pulled apart, her eyes were glassy and unfocused for a second before clarity returned. She coughed softly, trying to regain her composure.

“Better than a cigarette?” I asked with a smirk, wiping a stray strand of hair from her face.

She gave me a look that was part annoyance and part intrigue. “You’re insufferable.”

“Maybe,” I replied with a grin. “But you didn’t hate it.”

She bit her lip again and looked away, clearly unsure how to respond. For once, I felt like I had genuinely connected with someone—if only for a brief moment.

"What's your name?" I asked again, softer this time.

She opened her mouth to speak, but I silenced her with a kiss. This time, it wasn’t just a fleeting brush of lips. I dropped my cigarette, not caring where it landed, and wrapped my arms around her small frame. She was soft and petite, her warmth seeping into me as I pressed her close.

Her body tensed for a moment, then relaxed against mine. The contrast between her nervousness and the way she molded into me was endearing, stirring something deep within me that I didn’t want to examine too closely.

I licked her bottom lip, half-expecting her to pull away, but instead, she hesitated before parting her lips for me. That small act of surrender sent a jolt through me. I took the chance, deepening the kiss, tasting the sweetness of the pastry still lingering on her tongue.

Her hands found their way to my shoulders, gripping tightly as if she needed something to hold onto. I could feel the rapid beat of her heart against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. It was intoxicating—the way she responded to me, the way she seemed to melt under my touch.

I tightened my hold on her, one hand sliding up to tangle in her hair while the other rested on the small of her back. She whimpered softly against my mouth, and I swallowed the sound, pulling her even closer.

She tasted like something forbidden and sweet—a reminder of why I'd wanted to escape this world of control and expectations. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the feeling of her in my arms and the way she responded to my kiss.

When we finally broke apart for air, we were both breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide and glazed over with a mixture of surprise and something else—something that mirrored what I felt.

For a moment, we just stood there as we caught our breath. The world outside this room seemed distant and unimportant compared to the intensity of what had just happened between us.

I didn't want to let go. And from the way she clung to me, neither did she.

"How much is your family's debt?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

"What?" she replied, her confusion palpable. Her green eyes searched mine for clarity, but I held firm.

"The debt," I repeated, each word deliberate. "How much?"

"Why do you?—?"

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