13 ❦ kiss me

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The hallway felt endless, the sharp echo of my sobs reverberating off the cold, sterile walls. His grip on my arm was firm, steady, yet strangely careful, as if he feared I might shatter under his touch. Each step dragged, every inch of progress weighed down by the unbearable heaviness of everything, this place, this nightmare, him.

My mind screamed at me to stop, to collapse, to give up. I wasn't strong enough for this. Deep down, I knew I had been on the edge for years. A lifetime of abuse, of pain, of enduring. And now, I was hanging on by a thread that this ordeal was shredding faster than I could repair.

When we reached my room, my legs gave out beneath me. Without warning, I crumpled to the cold floor, wrenching as sobs tore through me. Tears streamed down my cheeks in a torrent of fear, anger, and despair.

He stood over me, silent and unmoving, his shadow looming like a reminder of everything I couldn't escape. My head tilted up, and I met his gaze with tear-filled eyes.

"I can't do this anymore," I choked out, my voice breaking. "Just end it. Please."

His expression didn't falter, but something flickered in his eyes, a crack in the armor he always wore. He knelt, his gloved hands cupping my face.

"Lola. This isn't how it ends."

My sobs hitched. "I can't take it anymore," I whispered, shaking my head against his hands. "Please... I'm tired."

His grip tightened slightly, grounding me. "You've survived worse. You don't give up now."

I leaned into his hand, finding an unwelcome comfort in his touch. "I don't want to feel this anymore," I confessed, my voice trembling.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The space between us grew taut, filled with the unspoken. His gaze locked on mine, dark and unreadable. The warmth of his breath brushed against my skin, and something shifted in the air.

"Kiss me," I whispered, desperation lacing my voice. "Please. Just make me forget."

His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as though warring with himself.

"Please," I repeated, tugging weakly at his shirt. My body ached for any reprieve from the agony consuming me.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he hovered, caught in the pull of something neither of us could control. Then, his expression darkened, a storm brewing behind his eyes.

"You don't know what you're asking for. This won't fix anything."

"I don't care," I said, my tone sharper. "It will... just for a while."

The tension broke. His lips crashed against mine, fierce and unrelenting. The kiss was wild, consuming, an outlet for everything unsaid. His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as his other arm wrapped around my waist. I clung to him, desperate, my body molding to his as the world blurred.

He kissed me like he wanted to devour me, like he hated himself for wanting me at all. My hands fumbled against his chest, tangling in his shirt as I pressed into him. He groaned, a sound that sent heat pooling in my core, and deepened the kiss, his tongue dominating mine.

He deepened the kiss, his arm wrapping firmly around my waist, pulling me so close I could feel every hard muscle of his body pressing against mine. His free hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head back to claim my lips with hungry, demanding fervor.

Then he dropped to his knees. His hands slid down my waist, tracing the curve of my body with a reverent touch, as though memorizing every line and contour. I arched against him, wordlessly urging him closer, my soft moans swallowed by the deep heat of his mouth.

His groan vibrated against my lips, raw and deep, as his hands tightened on my hips. His body trembled with restraint even as his kiss grew more insistent, his tongue dominating mine in a rhythm that left me gasping for more.

He pulled back slightly, his lips brushing a searing path along my jawline, down the sensitive column of my neck. Teeth grazed my skin, teasing and deliberate, sending shivers down my spine.

It was like kissing the devil, dark, consuming, and impossible to resist. But I knew it wasn't just his pull drawing me in. It was my own desire, relentless and unrelenting. I craved him. All of him.

"Please," I whimpered, the urgency in my voice betraying my restraint. "Touch me... everywhere."

"Lola," he murmured, his gaze flicking up to mine. There was a fleeting softness in his eyes, but his kisses along my neck remained rough, a blend of desire and restraint.

"I can't," he confessed against my skin, his voice low and filled with regret. The words hung between us, heavy and unrelenting.

"But please," I whispered again, desperate now.

"This isn't right," he breathed, his voice strained.

My hands moved to his mask instinctively, fingers fumbling with the fabric in my need to reach the real him. Frustration boiled in me as I fought to remove the barrier, but his hand caught mine, firm yet gentle.

"Don't," he warned, his voice raw.

I froze, my breath ragged, and met his gaze. "Tell me you don't feel this too," I whispered, my voice trembling.

His jaw tightened, his grip on my hand unyielding. "We can't cross that line, Lola. I won't allow it."

"Just admit it," I pleaded softly. "Even if we can't act on it. Just... admit it."

His silence stretched like a blade between us. Finally, he let out a sharp breath, stepping back to create a distance that felt like a chasm.

"This isn't about what we feel," he said, his voice harsh. "It's about what's right. And this—" He gestured between us. "—isn't."

I swallowed, fighting the sting of his rejection. "I get it," I murmured, the disappointment clear in my tone. "But can't you at least acknowledge it? Just for me?"

He shook his head, his eyes heavy with something unsaid. "Acknowledging it doesn't change anything. You deserve more than what this could ever be."

The finality of his words hit like a blow, but I refused to let him walk away not yet. Rising to my feet, shaky but resolute, I closed the distance between us.

"Don't," he growled, his voice low and warning.

I ignored him, placing a hand on his chest. Beneath my palm, his heartbeat was rapid, betraying his cold facade. "You can't keep denying this.We both know it's real."

He pushed my hand away abruptly, his eyes hardening. "This isn't about what's real. It's about what's safe. And this? This is anything but safe."

"Safe?" I shot back, stepping closer, pressing my body against his. "Nothing about this is safe. But for once, I don't care. I want to feel alive."

For a moment, his guard slipped, and I saw it—his struggle, his longing. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the icy mask I'd come to know too well.

"You don't understand the consequences."

"Then make me understand," I challenged.

"No." His voice was rough, final. "Not here. Not now. Do you understand?"

I nodded, swallowing hard. "But this isn't over."

He held my gaze, his eyes dark with conflict. Then, with a resigned sigh, he turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

As the silence closed in, I sank to the floor, trembling from the weight of our confrontation. His absence left me hollow, but the spark of hope remained. I had seen the crack in his armor, the flicker of what he tried so hard to hide.

This wasn't over. It couldn't be.

Patience, I told myself. I could wait.

For him, I would wait.

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