I pulled away first.
The kiss had been inevitable, both of us too wound up, too lost in the heat of the moment to care about the consequences. But as soon as I broke the contact, I could feel the reality of what had just happened crash over me like a wave.
We had kissed. We freaking kissed.
Not just any kiss, either. It was raw, untamed, a kiss that carried a depth neither of us had acknowledged until now. It wasn’t just the physical reaction, though that was undeniable, it was the intensity. The way my body reacted to him, the way his mouth had moved against mine like he was claiming me, as if he were the one who controlled everything between us.
His chest heaved, his lips still tingling with the aftermath of our kiss, and I could feel his eyes on me—piercing, searching, as if he was trying to understand what had just happened. What we had just done.
I couldn’t look at him. Not like this. Not with the way my heart was pounding in my chest. I had to leave. I had to escape, to get away from this feeling before it drove me insane.
I turned and walked away, ignoring the ache in my chest, telling myself it didn’t mean anything. It was just a kiss. But as I made my way back to the cabin, the guilt started to flood in. What the hell was I doing? Was this some kind of game I was playing with myself? No, it wasn’t. I was in control. I was supposed to be the one who held the power in this.
But deep down, a part of me wondered if I had just crossed a line I could never uncross.
I stepped into the cabin, trying to slow my breathing, trying to calm myself down. I needed space, I needed time, and I needed to get my head straight. As I closed the door behind me, I leaned against it, closing my eyes and trying to steady my breath.
But before I could process the mess of emotions inside me, the door burst open.
Tristan.
He didn’t knock. He never did.
“Why the hell did you pull away?” His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the anger and confusion simmering beneath it. His eyes met mine with a burning intensity that had me feeling like I was trapped.
“I don’t know what the hell that was,” I said, my voice trembling despite myself. “But we shouldn’t have done that. We can’t keep doing this.”
He didn’t move. His stare didn’t waver. The air in the room felt thick, like we were both fighting to maintain control of something we didn’t understand. He crossed the room in three strides, standing just inches from me. I didn’t back away. I couldn’t. Something about the way he stood there, so close, made my breath catch. I wanted to look away. I wanted to leave, but my body refused to comply.
“Why?” His voice was quieter now, almost too soft, but there was an edge to it, something that made me feel like he was daring me to answer.
“Because it doesn’t make sense,” I said, swallowing hard. “You and me, this is crazy. We can’t just—”
“Why not?” His words were firm, cutting through my hesitation. “You think I don’t know this is crazy? I know exactly what this is, Mia. But I’m not going to pretend anymore. This—” he gestured between us, “—this thing between us? It’s been going on since you showed up again. It’s never going to go away. So we have two choices.”
I felt my heart skip a beat as his words sank in. “What do you mean?”
He stepped even closer, so close that his breath brushed against my cheek. “We can keep pretending it’s not happening. Or we can face it. And do something about it.”
I shook my head, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “You’re not making sense.”
“I’m not here to play games, Mia,” he said, his voice low and serious. “This thing between us, it’s not going to get any better by ignoring it. If anything, it’s just going to keep getting worse. So I’m offering you a deal.”
I looked up at him, confused. “A deal?”
“Yeah,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “A physical arrangement. No emotions. No strings attached. Just sex.”
I blinked, stunned by the audacity of his words. “What?”
He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “You heard me. We can fuck. We can scratch this itch we’ve both been dealing with, without all the bullshit. No strings, no commitment. I don’t want to get involved in your private life. I don’t want to know anything about you. We’re just two people who’ve been going at each other for too long. This is the only way to fix it. We use each other to release the frustration.”
I stared at him, my mind racing. My body was telling me one thing, but my brain was screaming at me to run, to get out of there and never look back. But at the same time, his offer was tempting. It was straightforward. Clean. No feelings. Just the two of us, getting what we wanted.
But could I really handle that?
“Do you think I’m just going to fall for this?” I said, trying to steady my voice, trying to make sense of it all. “I don’t want to be another notch in your bedpost, Tristan. You think this is just about sex for me?”
“I’m not asking you to fall for me,” he said, his voice steady. “I’m asking you to be real. To stop pretending like this isn’t happening. You’re lying to yourself if you think you don’t want this.”
I shook my head, not knowing what to say. The anger and desire inside me swirled together, each emotion fighting for dominance. I didn’t want to give in. But the way his eyes held mine, the way his body was so close, the heat radiating between us, it was hard to resist.
“I can handle it,” I said, more to myself than to him. “I can handle you.”
He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. His touch was gentle, almost teasing, as he leaned in slowly, his breath hot against my ear. “Then let’s seal the deal,” he whispered.
Before I could protest, before I could think about what was happening, he crushed his lips against mine. It wasn’t soft or gentle. No, this was a kiss that told me everything I needed to know. It was rough, demanding, an explosion of pent-up need. I opened my mouth in response, and immediately he was inside, his tongue tracing mine, claiming me in a way I hadn’t expected.
His hands moved to my waist, pulling me close, pressing me against him. I could feel the heat of him, his body hard against mine, and I hated that it felt so good. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. He moved against me, rough and relentless, as if trying to possess me in that kiss, to remind me who was in control.
I tried to assert myself, tried to push him away, but he didn’t give an inch. He kissed me harder, deeper, his hands moving over my body like he couldn’t get enough. I couldn’t stop myself from responding, from pressing closer into him. My own hands wandered up to his chest, and I could feel the muscles there, tight and powerful.
But even as I tried to take control, I could feel it, he wasn’t going to give up that easily. Tristan was in control of this moment, and he was going to make sure I knew it.
When he finally pulled away, both of us breathless, I felt the heat between us simmering. The words were left unspoken, but we both knew. This was more than just a deal. It was a dangerous game, one we were both going to play, and neither of us was going to back down.
“You think you can handle this?” he asked, his voice low, filled with something primal.
“I can handle anything,” I whispered, looking up at him. “But you’re going to regret this.”
The tension in the room hung thick. And in that moment, I realized that this… whatever it was between us, was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning.