Zain leaned in, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot and low.
"Little rabbit… you're testing my patience. You're fierce… too dangerous… and your beauty—" he exhaled heavily. "I swear, I could lose control and claim you anytime."
Lara snapped back into awareness. Her usual instinct would've been to pull away, to deny, to retreat. But not this time. A spark lit in her chest—dangerous and deliberate. She tilted her chin upward, eyes daring, lips barely inches from his.
"Oh?" she said softly. "Is that so? Try me, Casanova."
It was fire meeting fire, and Zain felt it instantly. His breath hitched, his chest tightening, pulse racing beneath her touch. When her fingers slid over his bare skin, the heat that flared inside him was immediate—sharp, almost painful.
His eyes locked onto hers, pupils blown wide, every nerve wound tight with restraint. Instinct screamed at him to pull her closer, yet he held back, muscles coiled, fingers digging into her waist as if control were a fragile thread he refused to snap. Her boldness—the fire in her gaze, the unfiltered audacity on her lips—was intoxicating. Maddening. Impossible to contain.
And by the time Lara realized the danger her touch had awakened, it was already too late.
He was trembling beneath her, caught between control and collapse, undone by the very challenge she'd thrown at him.
A gasp tore from her throat as her body reacted before her mind could stop it—skin sparking where it met his, breath catching, pulse wild. Before she knew it, her hands were on him, sliding slowly up his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. She drew him closer, lips trembling, the space between them vanishing—
"Knock, knock!"
The spell shattered.
"Kids, it's 9 a.m.! You've already missed the sunrise. At least have your breakfast," called the elderly lady from outside.
Lara jerked away, her pulse racing, breath tangled in her throat. The air felt too thin, too hot. Zain didn't move. He lay there, shoulders tight, chest rising and falling as if he'd just walked through fire.
Lara tried to look away, to gather herself, but her body felt unsteady, her skin still humming with phantom heat where he'd touched her. Zain's jaw tightened, his eyes flicking to her lips before lifting back to her face. He swallowed hard, a low exhale slipping out—half a curse, half surrender.
The silence stretched. Neither of them spoke.
It was too much. Too raw.
And they both knew that whatever line they'd almost crossed wasn't gone.
It was waiting.