The bathroom door had closed minutes ago.
Long enough for the noise of the bar to swallow everything that happened inside.
Kylian was already back at the counter, one elbow resting on the bar, drink in his hand, expression calm — too calm.
Anyone looking at him would think nothing had happened.
That was the point.
Control.
Always control.
The music was loud again.
Lights moving.
People laughing.
Normal.
Until she walked past him.
Ivy crossed in front of the bar like she hadn't just been pressed against a sink five minutes earlier.
Same dress.
Same face.
Same steady walk.
Only her eyes gave it away.
For a second, she didn't look at him.
Then she did.
Just one glance.
Quick.
Sharp.
Enough.
His fingers tightened around his glass.
He didn't turn his head.
Didn't call her.
Didn't move.
But his jaw flexed.
She stopped at the other end of the counter, ordering a drink like nothing had happened.
The bartender asked something.
She answered.
Calm.
Too calm.
Kylian took a slow sip without tasting it.
He could still feel her against him.
Still hear her breathing.
Still see her in the mirror.
Someone leaned next to him, talking about something he didn't care about.
He nodded without listening.
His eyes moved again.
She was laughing now.
Talking to some guy.
Not touching.
Not flirting.
Just enough to look like she could.
That was worse.
He put his glass down harder than he meant to.
The sound made her look.
Their eyes met again.
Longer this time.
No smile.
No anger.
Just heat.
Raw.
Unfinished.
She tilted her head slightly, like a silent question.
You done?
His look answered.
Not even close.
She grabbed her drink and walked past him again, slower this time.
Close enough for her shoulder to almost touch his arm.
Almost.
He spoke without looking at her.
"You like playing."
She stopped.
Turned just enough to face him.
"You started it."
"I finished it."
Her lips curved slightly.
"You sure?"
That did it.
He turned his head finally, eyes dark, voice low.
"Careful."
"With what?"
"With thinking I won't do it again."
Her pulse jumped, but she didn't step back.
"Then don't."
Silence.
Heavy.
Dangerous.
People moved around them, laughing, shouting, dancing.
But the space between them felt locked.
Like the bathroom door never opened.
He leaned closer, just enough for only her to hear.
"You keep looking at me like that…"
She didn't blink.
"Like what?"
"Like you want trouble."
She took a slow sip of her drink.
Then stepped closer.
So close her voice brushed his ear.
"Maybe I do."
He exhaled slowly.
That was the exact answer he didn't need.
He grabbed his glass again, finishing it in one go.
Then stood up.
"You coming outside."
Not a question.
Never a question.
She held his gaze one second longer.
Then smiled slightly.
And followed.
They didn't go back inside.
Kylian walked straight past the entrance of the bar, keys already in his hand.
Ivy followed without asking where they were going.
The tension between them was too thick for questions.
Streetlights reflected on the wet pavement as they crossed the parking lot.
"You're not going home," she said.
He didn't look at her.
"No."
"Where then?"
He unlocked the car.
"My place."
That should have sounded like a warning.
It didn't.
She got in without hesitation.
The drive was silent.
Not awkward.
Not calm.
Charged.
His hand stayed tight on the wheel, jaw set, like he was holding something back with effort.
She watched him instead of the road.
"You're mad."
"I'm not mad."
"You dragged me out of a bar."
"You wanted me to."
She smiled slightly.
"You didn't have to."
His grip tightened.
"Yes, I did."
The rest of the drive passed without words.
When the car stopped, she realized they weren't at her building.
Different street.
Different lights.
Different door.
He got out first.
She followed.
Inside, his apartment was darker than she expected.
Minimal.
Quiet.
Safe.
Too safe for the way he looked at her.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then he stepped closer.
Slow.
Controlled.
"You keep pushing," he said.
"You keep pulling."
His hand reached her chin, lifting her face slightly.
"You don't even know what that does to me."
"Then show me."
That was all it took.
He kissed her hard this time, one hand sliding to her waist, pulling her against him.
Not rushed.
Not drunk.
Intentional.
Like he had decided something.
He broke the kiss suddenly.
"Don't move."
Her heartbeat jumped.
"What?"
He didn't answer.
He disappeared into the bedroom for a second, then came back with something in his hand.
A strip of fabric.
Her breath caught.
"You trust me?"
She hesitated.
That alone made his eyes darken.
"I asked if you trust me."
"Yes."
He stepped behind her, tying the fabric gently over her eyes.
Darkness.
Instant.
Her breathing changed.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
"You tied my eyes."
"You could stop me."
She didn't.
His hands moved slower now.
More deliberate.
Guiding her backward until the bed touched behind her knees.
"Sit."
She did.
Her pulse was loud in her ears, every sound sharper without sight.
She felt his fingers at her wrists.
Something tightening.
Not painful.
Just enough to hold.
Her breath hitched.
"Kylian…"
"You said you trusted me."
His voice was lower now.
Closer.
Every touch felt stronger without seeing him.
Every movement unpredictable.
She tried to pull her hands once, instinctively.
He held them easily.
"Don't fight it."
That made her shiver more than the touch itself.
He moved around her, slow, controlled, like he was taking his time on purpose.
Her body reacted to every brush of his hands, every breath near her neck, every pause he let last too long.
The intensity built without rush.
Without chaos.
Just pressure.
Too much.
Too close.
Too real.
When he finally pulled her down onto the bed, she couldn't tell if seconds or minutes had passed.
All she knew was that she wasn't in control anymore.
And he was.
Completely.
Her back arched under his touch, a sound escaping her before she could stop it.
He leaned close to her ear.
"You feel that?"
She nodded, breathing uneven.
"That's why I told you not to play with me."
He kissed her slowly this time.
Not angry.
Not gentle.
Certain.
Like he knew exactly how far he could push her.
And exactly how far she would let him go.