Page 8

8

Fiona

The night is slipping by in a haze of laughter, drinks, and flashes from the cameras. The charity event is in full swing, and Stellan has been nothing short of perfect. He's been the model boyfriend all night—charming, attentive, a perfect gentleman in front of everyone. But underneath it all, there’s an intensity in the way he looks at me, in the way he holds my hand, that I can’t seem to shake. It's like every time I glance at him, I feel something shift in my chest—something I’m not ready to admit.

We’ve been talking, laughing, and spending more time together than I ever expected. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between the awkward poses for photos and the forced smiles for the media, something between us started to feel real. Real in a way that scares me.

The music shifts, and I glance at Stellan, who’s standing a few feet away, watching me. His eyes are dark with that look—the one that makes my breath catch every time I meet his gaze. I’m suddenly aware of how close we are, how the whole world feels like it’s disappearing as the beat of the music pulses through the room. The space between us feels electric, and without a word, he holds out his hand.

“Dance with me,” he says, his voice low and smooth, as though he knows exactly what I need.

It’s not a question. It’s a command, and one I can’t bring myself to refuse.

I let him pull me into the crowd on the dance floor, and just like that, the noise of the event fades into the background. It’s just us, moving to the rhythm of the music. His hand rests on my lower back, guiding me closer to him, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine. My heart races, a nervous energy spreading through me as his fingers gently press into my waist, pulling me even closer.

The music is slow, seductive, and his movements are smooth, like he’s done this a thousand times. I can feel the heat between us building, the space between our bodies shrinking with every step we take. His breath brushes against my cheek, and I can’t help but shiver at the closeness.

I glance up at him, meeting his eyes. There’s something raw in the way he looks at me—something unspoken, intense, like he’s fighting the same battle I am. His lips part slightly, and for a moment, all I can think about is how badly I want him to kiss me. How badly I’ve wanted this since the first moment we met.

“You’re incredible, Fiona,” he says softly, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “You know that?”

I swallow, my voice coming out in a breathless whisper. “I think you’ve had too much to drink.”

He chuckles softly, but it’s deep, and it sends a shiver down my spine. “Not enough to stop thinking about you.”

The words hit me like a sucker punch, and for a split second, I lose my rhythm. The dance floor fades away, and all I can hear is the beat of my own heart, pounding in my chest. Stellan’s hand tightens on my waist, pulling me even closer, until there’s no space left between us. I can feel his chest rise and fall against mine, the warmth of his breath on my neck, the strength in his body. It’s overwhelming, and for a moment, I lose myself in it.

His lips hover near my ear, his voice a low murmur. “I’ve never been able to keep my distance from you, Fiona. Even when I try, I can’t seem to stop.”

His words make my stomach flutter, and I don’t know how much longer I can stand this—how much longer I can ignore the tension between us, the undeniable chemistry that’s sparking every time we touch.

The music shifts again, faster this time, but neither of us moves. I’m not sure who initiates it, but suddenly his lips are on mine. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like he’s waiting for me to pull away. But I don’t. I kiss him back, and the moment I do, everything changes.

His hand slips to the back of my neck, pulling me in deeper, his mouth more insistent, more hungry. I don’t know how long we stand there, lost in the kiss, but it feels like the rest of the world falls away. The noise of the party, the cameras flashing—none of it matters. All that matters is the heat between us, the way his lips press against mine, the way his body moves against mine as we sway together in time with the music.

It’s everything I’ve been trying to ignore, everything I’ve been fighting against. But in this moment, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the feel of his lips on mine, the way his hand slides down to my waist, pulling me closer.

Finally, we break the kiss, our breaths ragged, our bodies still pressed together. I’m dazed, my mind spinning, and I look up at him, searching his eyes for answers, for something to tell me this is just part of the act.

But the look on his face tells me everything I need to know. This isn’t just acting. This isn’t just for the cameras.

It’s real.

We stand there for a moment, neither of us saying anything, both of us trying to steady our breathing. The air between us is thick with tension, and I don’t know if I’m more scared of it or more excited by it.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says quietly, his hand slipping back into mine.

I nod, unable to speak, and we make our way to the exit. The moment we step outside, the cool night air hits me like a splash of water, but the heat from the dance floor still lingers on my skin. Stellan walks me to the limo, his hand never leaving mine.

The driver opens the door, and we slide in, the doors shutting with a soft click behind us. The interior of the limo is dimly lit, and for the first time all night, it’s just the two of us. The hum of the city outside fades away as we sit in the quiet, the tension between us palpable.

As the limo starts moving, Stellan turns to me, his eyes dark with something I can’t quite place. Without a word, he leans in again, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s even more urgent than before. This time, there’s no hesitation, no waiting. It’s as if we’ve both been holding our breath, and now we’re finally letting go.

His hand slides up to my cheek, his thumb brushing across my skin, and I respond by pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. It’s messy, heated, the kind of kiss that makes my pulse race, makes my body ache for more. I feel his hand slip to my back, pulling me onto his lap, and I straddle him, not caring about anything except the way he’s touching me, the way we fit together.

The limo sways as we kiss, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. There’s nothing else in the world except him and the way he’s making me feel—alive, electric, like I’ve never been touched this way before.

When we finally break apart, both of us gasping for air, I rest my forehead against his, unable to speak for a moment. My body is still buzzing from the kiss, my head spinning with a mix of emotions I can’t begin to understand.

“I should get out,” I whisper, my voice shaky.

He doesn’t let me go. Instead, he lifts my chin, his thumb brushing against my lips. “Not yet,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Neither am I. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to pretend anymore.