Alyssa's POV
The air between us was electric, charged with a raw, primal hunger that didn’t need words, our bodies did the talking, and fuck, did they speak volumes.
Her lips crashed into mine like a fucking hurricane, all teeth and tongue and desperation, her nails raking down my back like she was trying to carve her name into my flesh.
My hands found her hips, gripping them hard enough to leave bruises as I spun her around and pinned her against the wall.
Her breath hitched, and I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingertips as I kissed a searing trail down her neck. She arched into me, her ass grinding against my dick, and I fucking lost it.
Her skirt was up around her waist in seconds, her panties shoved to the side as I slid into her with one rough thrust.
She cried out, her back pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped around my waist like a fucking vise. Her pussy was soaked, tight and hot and perfect, and I couldn’t get enough.
I fucked her hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room like a goddamn symphony.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, her breath coming in ragged gasps as I pounded into her. “Fuck me,” she whimpered, her voice a broken whisper. “Don’t stop.”
Like I fucking would. I reached between us, my thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in tight, relentless circles. She shuddered, her walls clenching around me as she came, her head thrown back in ecstasy. I didn’t let up, driving into her with everything I had until I was right on the edge.
“Cum for me,” she begged, her eyes locking with mine. “I want to feel you.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. With a guttural groan, I buried myself deep inside her, my cock pulsing as I filled her up. She trembled in my arms, her body still quivering with aftershocks as we collapsed against the wall, both of us panting and fucking wrecked.
Tangled in each other’s arms, our skin slick with sweat and our breaths slowly evening out, I lay there beside Hayden, the sheets twisted around our legs.
The silence was louder than anything in that moment, and I couldn’t stop myself from watching his face. His jaw was relaxed, his eyes slightly closed, and for a moment, he looked at peace. But inside me? Chaos.
Regret prickled at my skin like thorns. I kept replaying the earlier scene in my mind, the slap, the yelling, the accusations.
My chest tightened.
Why did I react like that?
I shouldn't have.
It wasn’t just about Sireen. It was something deeper. Something I hadn’t admitted to myself. Was it because... I liked Hayden?
"Do you like me?"
His voice broke the silence like a hammer shattering glass. My entire body froze, heart slamming against my ribcage. My lips parted, but nothing came out.
Instead, I turned my face to him and whispered, "Do you like me?"
He looked away.
My heart sank.
The silence that followed was unbearable. The tension curled around us, a stark contrast to the warmth we’d just shared. I tried not to read too much into it. Maybe he was just thinking. Maybe it was complicated.
Then, he spoke again. "Have you heard the story of the Mafia Princess, Julie? The one who died in a car accident a few years ago?"
I shook my head. "No. I don’t... really relate with other Mafia princesses. I stay out of the loop."
He nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "She was my first love."
That sentence hit me like a truck.
He exhaled deeply, like the story was something he’d locked away for a long time. "She left home to visit her parents. It was supposed to be a short trip. But... she never made it back. Her car was found crushed at the bottom of a hill. Police said it was an accident. Brakes failed or something."
I remained silent, letting him speak, my fingers subconsciously brushing against the back of his hand.
"But I know better. Or at least, I think I do," he continued. "I always suspected my enemies had a hand in it. The timing, the way it all happened... it didn’t sit right. But even after all these years, I haven’t found proof. Nothing concrete. Just a hunch."
I turned to face him fully, propping myself on my elbow so I could see his expression. The shadows in his eyes were dark and heavy. She meant something to him. A lot.
"Was she your first love?" I asked, my voice softer than a whisper.
He was startled by the question, like I’d pulled him from a deep memory. His eyes met mine, and slowly, he nodded.
"I’m sorry," I said, genuinely. "I can’t imagine what that felt like."
He didn’t say anything immediately. Just stared at me, unreadable.
I reached out to hug him, but he stopped me. His hand gently touched my hair, then slid to my cheek. His thumb brushed against my skin.
"I love your eyes," he said softly.
That made me smile. A small, shy curve of my lips that I didn’t even realize was forming.
He leaned in and kissed me. It was slow. Intentional. Like he was trying to tell me something through that kiss.
And then, against my lips, he whispered, "I think I’m falling for you, Alyssa."