Yara |18+|

15

VICO

One week later

I can't stop thinking about her.

To say I was distracted by the thought of her was a sickening understatement.

I glanced over at the clock on the wall, finding that I had been sitting at my desk for the past two hours. Breathing in deeply, I let out a sigh as I closed my laptop. Just do it. No, I shouldn't.

Opening my laptop, I stared at the blank screen while I tried to think about anything else that wasn't her. It didn't work. I shut my laptop, pushing it away and I let my elbows rest on my desk. Why the fuck was she in my head? She left without a word and I still thought about her.

One night. One fucking night. And her memory had etched itself into my brain.

I pursed my lips, annoyed and irritated by everything. Especially by my duties that didn't seem to stop. It could be so easy—tracking her and finding where she'd been for the past few days. That's if she was still using my car. I doubted it, but the idea never left me. Maybe she didn't want to be found and there I was, infatuated and trailing after her like a puppy on an invisible leash.

You think too much.

But how could I not when the vivid image of her legs around my waist kept me awake at night?

Apart from that, I couldn't stop questioning whether she was alive or not. Mario had been quiet, and I couldn't help but wonder if Yara got to him. I need to stop. It was midnight and I had work in the morning. First, I needed to shower.

My day was spent interrogating men who fucked up and men who wanted to and couldn't. It was an outlet, almost. An outlet for everything I felt. I gazed down at my fist, clenching and unclenching and feeling the amount of damage I'd done. It wasn't too bad. Could be worse. Bruises and cuts were littered across my knuckles but that was all.

I stood up, yawning as I grabbed my phone and checked the time for the umpteenth time.

"What's wrong with me?" I muttered under my breath, quickly heading to the shower.

Twisting the knob, I set the temperature right and undressed myself while I waited. The bathroom steamed up and I opened the glass door, stepping into the one place that washed away the day. I groaned, leaning both hands on the tiled wall while the water cascaded down my back. With my eyes closed, I saw her pretty face and immediately, I felt myself harden.

Stop. How can my imagination have my dick hard?

Gritting my teeth, it took everything in me to not reach down and stroke myself. How fucked up would that be? Touching myself to nothing but my thoughts? I pushed the image away, but she came back and I nearly rolled my eyes. Can you fuck off, perhaps?

I let go of the wall and stood up straight, running my hands over my wet hair as I leaned my head back. I stood there for a while, letting the hot water run over me while I attempted to ignore my hard self. It was painful, but it wasn't unbearable and I paid no attention to it while I cleaned myself. I didn't understand it. Not at all.

What was it about her that had me hooked?

After a while, I decided to step out. Switching off the water, I pursed my lips as I thought about my next move. I should. No, I shouldn't. I wrapped a towel around my waist and dried my hair with the other, walking out of the bathroom and passing my office.

I paused at the doorframe. What harm could tracking my own car bring?

Fuck it.

I walked straight to my laptop in nothing but my towel and held it at the waist, using one hand to type in the short code I needed to find my car. I waited, gazing down at the screen until a map popped up. First, it showed my neighbourhood. I frowned, watching it zoom in on my street until it locked in on my house. I stepped back, confused.

The car is here?

"Tracking me?"

I couldn't turn around fast enough.

Locking eyes with Yara, my lips parted as I found her standing behind me. She's here. My heart rate spiked and for a second, I couldn't move. Or say anything.

Yara grinned, stepping closer and I struggled to take my eyes off her face.

"Yara," I breathed.

She looked...different. A good different. Her hair was curly. Not straight. And the clothes she wore was casual. An off black jeans was tight on her legs. I almost forgot that I was a tiny bit mad at her. I glared at her, turning around and shutting my laptop. Fucker.

She had me missing her and I hated it. But her hand curled around my neck and I melted, giving in quicker than I could blink. Her touch was...euphoric.

I missed it, and I barely knew anything about the woman other than I liked the way she touched me. And her name. And that she spoke Arabic fluently and spent the last ten years of her life being an assassin. Oh, and she was lover of white wine instead of red.

Asshole.

"Vico."

She walked around me, returning back to my vision and I stared down at her, finding all the reasons why I couldn't forget her. Everything about her was unforgettable. Her brown eyes traced over my chest and down to the white towel covering myself.

Yara let out a sigh and I watched her, having no intention of making the first move even when I wanted to kiss the fuck out of her. Or hug her. Or fuck her for making me miss her.

When she held my jaw and stood on the tips of her toes, I looked at her dead in her eyes.

And then she kissed me.

And like a weak man, I caved in.

• • •

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(Im sorry this is sooo late 🫶🏽)