143. BURN with DESIRE
Maximilian's POV — The Bedroom
The second she appeared, I felt my control slipping like sand through my fingers. Every instinct screamed at me to push her away, to assert dominance, to crush the reckless audacity blazing in her eyes—but I couldn't. She had this… pull. A gravity all her own, and it dragged me in, slow, torturous, irresistible.
Her gaze lingered on me like a predator tasting its prey, and my own pulse betrayed me. I could feel heat crawling across my skin, each drop of water still clinging to my body making her presence burn even hotter. That smirk—the one I hated and yet could not resist—pierced me deeper than any blade.
"What are you doing here?" I managed to choke out, though my voice sounded sharper to my own ears than I intended. Cold. Controlled. A warning.
And she… she brushed her fingers along my skin like I was a canvas she intended to ruin, teasing, taunting, breaking down every ounce of restraint I'd built. She pressed closer. Her breath tickled my lips, soft, sinful, and every instinct in me screamed to pull her into me, to dominate, to claim—but I forced myself to stay still, to breathe, to survive her proximity.
Her finger traced the air near my collarbone, and something primitive, dangerous, animalistic inside me reacted. I felt the tension coil tighter in my chest. Her voice, low and playful, licked at my mind.
"You can't scare me. You only make it more… entertaining, babyness."
I wanted to crush her lips with mine. I wanted to drag her to the floor and devour her. I wanted to remind her who owned the space she dared to invade. But I couldn't. Not yet.
Every muscle in my body screamed with need and rage. My aura radiated steel and frost, an invisible wall pressing against her fire, and yet hers danced through it, velvet and flame, intoxicating, maddening.
I told myself: Maximilian Brooks, CEO of SolarVex, master of every boardroom and battlefield… control yourself.
I clenched my fists. I ground my teeth. Every second she remained here, my composure was being stripped away, layer by layer. And I hated it. I hated that I wanted this. I hated that my mind raced with dark, sinful thoughts, imagining her beneath me, her every motion fueling a desire I could barely acknowledge.
"Leave."
Cold. Commanding. Knife-sharp.
Her grin widened.
"After appreciating the scenery? Not yet."
I swallowed the curse threatening to escape my lips. My body flared instinctively, dominance clashing against her audacious fire. I stepped closer. She did not step back. The air around us was thick, electric, dangerous—a war of wills and desires without a single word.
And just as I leaned forward, a threat in every inch of my body, the door burst open.
Kyron.
The assistant's presence shattered the spell momentarily, and I felt the subtle tug of responsibility return. I shot him a glare that could have frozen fire itself. He froze. I did not have to say a word. His retreat was instantaneous, humiliating, and almost satisfying in a cruel way.
Once the door slammed, leaving us alone again, I exhaled sharply. My chest rose and fell, muscles taut, eyes smoldering. Every second she lingered, every provocative whisper, every trace of her wicked energy… it was torture. But I couldn't deny it. I wanted the torture.
She was here. She was real. And she was mine to either banish or burn with desire.
I had never met anyone like her. Not in all my life.
And yet… I already knew I would follow her anywhere, no matter how dangerous, no matter the cost.
Because she wasn't just a challenge. She was a storm, and I had just stepped into the eye.
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