CHAPTER 437: NO INTENTION OF STOPPING

Evaline:

The soft glow from the bedside lamp pooled across the room, wrapping everything in a sleepy golden hue. My phone buzzed one last time before I sent a quick reply to Mallory’s frantic text - something about Kyros threatening to send a search party if I didn’t answer soon.

I’m fine. Just went out somewhere with Kieran.

I hit send, then sighed, leaning forward on the desk, elbows resting on its cool wooden surface. My hair slid down over my shoulders like a silver curtain, pooling beside my arms as I typed one last message.

The underground house was warm and quiet, so quiet that I could hear the faint hum of the washing machine somewhere down the hallway.

The door opened softly behind me. I didn’t even need to look to know who it was. His footsteps were calm, measured... the kind that didn’t need to announce themselves to be felt.

"You are still awake?" Kieran’s voice was low, threaded with that steady calm that could both soothe and unsettle me at the same time.

"I was just texting Mallory," I said, not turning around. "They were about to send a rescue team."

There was a quiet sound behind me - the faint rustle of fabric, the subtle shift of air as he moved closer.

"You should be in bed," he murmured, the edge of command softened by something else... something heavier, warmer. "You said you were tired earlier."

I smiled faintly, still staring at my phone screen as I checked the photos of others Mallory just sent "I was," I admitted. "But after dinner, I don’t know... I feel oddly awake."

It was supposed to sound casual, harmless... but the silence that followed told me it hadn’t landed that way. I was just about to turn when I felt him.

He stepped in behind me, his presence folding over mine like a shadow. His hands came down on either side of me, palms pressed against the desk, caging me in. My breath caught. The faint heat of him seeped through the air between us... barely an inch, maybe less.

"So," his voice came, a whisper against my ear, rich and low. "You are feeling awake?"

The air left my lungs in a slow, shaky exhale. The shift in his tone sent a tremor down my spine. It wasn’t teasing... not entirely. It was a kind of hunger that was quiet, restrained, and yet... burning.

I tried to straighten, but his hand came to rest gently but firmly on my shoulder, keeping me where I was.

"Stay," he whispered.

I froze.

His other hand brushed against the back of my thigh... just above the hem of the shirt I was wearing. His shirt. The realization hit me like a storm - the loose fabric, the bare skin underneath, the way I had bent over slightly while leaning on the desk.

Heat rushed to my face.

It wasn’t intentional. None of this was supposed to be. But the way his touch trailed up, pausing just at the edge of my waist... it was enough to scatter every thought I had.

"Kieran..."

"Do you have any idea what you look like right now?" His voice was unsteady, a blend of restraint and want. "You... leaning over my desk, wearing my shirt, your hair down like that..."

He let out a quiet laugh... low, breathy, the kind that came from someone losing control.

"I didn’t know it was possible to crave someone this much," he whispered.

The words alone made my heart stutter.

My body reacted before my mind could. I tilted my head slightly, enough for our gazes to meet from the corner of my eye. His were dark - not in color, but in intensity. There was no professor in that look, no quiet scholar. Just the man... my mate... fighting himself.

He leaned in, his breath brushing the edge of my ear.

"Should we continue what you started this afternoon?" he whispered.

My pulse jumped.

His teeth grazed my ear, just a faint nip - playful and dangerous all at once. My fingers curled against the desk to keep myself steady. Every inch of me was trembling, alive in a way that made it impossible to think.

I opened my mouth to say something - maybe a yes, maybe a no - but he didn’t wait.

In one swift move, he turned me around. His strength was effortless. The world blurred until my back hit the desk. Before I could catch my breath, his lips were on mine.

The kiss wasn’t gentle.

It was hungry - a collision of heat and longing, of everything we had both been holding back since that moment in the car, since the very first time we had crossed that fragile line between curiosity and need.

I felt the desk dig into the small of my back, but I didn’t care. His hand came to my waist, the other sliding behind me as if afraid I might slip away. He kissed me harder, deeper, until my knees threatened to give in and all that kept me grounded was him.

I reached for his shirt, my fingers tangling in the fabric, but he caught both my wrists midair and pinned them gently behind me. The move sent a rush of helpless heat through me.

His lips slowed... no less deep, but softer now, exploring, memorizing. His thumb traced slow circles along my wrist, easing the tension he had just created.

The world fell away - the desk, the quiet hum of the underground house, the faint scent of earth and pine outside the walls - everything disappeared until there was only him.

When he finally pulled away, both of us were breathing hard.

His forehead rested against mine, our breaths mixing in the tiny space between us. His voice came out rough, hoarse, like he was holding back every instinct that told him not to stop.

"Love," he whispered, his eyes staring right into mine, "Do you want to stop? Because if we continued..."

He leaned closer until his mouth was right next to my ear, and when he spoke, his voice was deep... and carried promises.

"... I have no intention of stopping."