Night draped the villa in soft darkness. The sea's roar had softened to a steady pulse, like a heartbeat beneath the cliffs. Sharon stood by the balcony, tracing the edges of the railing with her fingertips, feeling the chill of the stone seep into her skin.
Akon appeared behind her, silent, as if he had always been there. The heat of his presence pressed against her back, though he didn't touch her. "You're restless," he murmured.
"I… can't stop thinking," she admitted, voice barely audible. "About you. About this."
"You don't need to think," he said. "Just feel."
Her stomach knotted at the weight of those words. To feel was dangerous. To feel was surrender. And yet… she wanted to surrender.
He reached out, fingertips ghosting over her shoulder, tracing the line of her collarbone. Every brush of his skin sent shivers down her spine. Her hands clenched at her sides, fighting the pull he had on her, but her body betrayed her, leaning toward him without permission.
Watching her, he saw every flicker of hesitation, every tremor of want, every quiet fight she waged with herself. Sharon's restraint made him ache more than any surrender ever could.
He closed the distance slowly, so she could step back if she chose, but she didn't. When his hand finally rested on her waist, it was light — exploratory, respectful — yet the force of his desire radiated from him like heat.
"You could walk away," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "But you haven't. Why?"
Her breath hitched. "Because…" she swallowed, "…I want to."
That single confession was enough to shatter months of control he'd built around himself. He captured her hand, intertwining their fingers. "Then stay with me," he said softly, almost reverently. "Not because I demand it. Because you choose it."
She turned in his arms, tilting her chin so he could see her face. "And if I'm afraid?"
"Then I'll be here," he said, thumbs stroking the backs of her hands. "Not to chase you, not to trap you. Just… here. Until fear becomes trust. Until doubt becomes…" His lips hovered near hers, "desire."
Sharon closed her eyes, heart hammering. Desire. The word tasted like fire and ice at once. She had never wanted someone with such intensity — and yet, it was terrifying how much she did.
The first kiss was slow, testing boundaries. His lips moved over hers like a question, gentle, reverent, asking if she was ready. She answered without words, tilting her head, leaning into him, letting the warmth of him seep through her like sunlight through a stormy sky.
Every second with her was agony and salvation. He wanted to devour her, to claim her in every way his heart demanded — but he restrained himself, savoring the moment. She was a flame, fragile and wild, and he didn't dare snuff it out.
His hands slid from her waist to her back, pulling her closer, pressing the heat of him against her. She fit into him as if he had been made for this, for her, for the quiet intensity of shared vulnerability.
"I've waited for this," he murmured against her lips. "For you to let me in."
Sharon shivered, hiding her face against his chest. "I… don't know how."
"Then I'll teach you," he whispered, voice rough with emotion. "In every touch, every kiss, every breath. You won't need to know how. You'll just feel it."
The rest of the night passed in whispers, tentative touches, and the weightless ache of closeness neither of them had allowed before. When she finally fell asleep in the guest room he had prepared for her, Akon didn't move. He sat in the dark, hand brushing a lock of hair from her face even as she slept, whispering softly:
"You'll never run from me. Not because I'll force you, but because… this—us—this will be impossible to leave behind."
And for the first time, Sharon dreamed not of freedom, but of surrender.