Hearts of the Bosphorus

Chapter 29

Unspoken Truths

The rain lashed against the windows of Isabella's office, creating a rhythmic thrum that matched the pounding of her heart. Omer's hands pressed firmly against her hips, his fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path up her thighs. She was perched on the edge of her desk, the cool wood biting into the backs of her legs, but all she could focus on was the heat of Omer's body, the way his breath brushed against her skin.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the city lights, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Outside, the storm raged, but inside, another storm was brewing—one that had been simmering for far too long.

He moved between her legs, his strong frame caging her in, blocking out everything but the charged space between them. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and turbulent, as if searching for something deep within her soul. The intensity there almost too much to bear. Isabella's hands rested against his chest, but she couldn't bring herself to push him away. Instead, she found herself leaning into him, drawn by a magnetic force that she couldn't explain, couldn't resist.

His body loomed over hers, a silent testament to his frustration and desire. He had chased her for so long, always just a step behind, and now, finally, he had her cornered. Alone. The air between them crackled with tension, the kind that made every breath heavy with unspoken words.

Then, slowly, reverently, he leaned in and kissed her. The touch of his lips was soft, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid she would pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she melted into the kiss, her arms sliding around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Omer," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

But the gentleness quickly gave way to something more urgent, more demanding, as his hands slid higher, slipping beneath the fabric of her skirt. Isabella shivered, arching into him, her fingers curling into the open collar of his shirt. She could feel the strength in his arms, the way he held her with a mix of possessiveness and tenderness that made her head spin.

For a moment, there was nothing else—no past, no future, just the here and now, the undeniable connection that had always been there. Omer's hands slid up her thighs, under her skirt, his fingers trailing along her skin, setting it ablaze. Her breath hitched, and she gasped into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders, and then with a sudden, desperate motion, she tore it open. Buttons flew across the room, scattering like tiny beads . Buttons flew everywhere, pinging off the desk and scattering across the floor like tiny, forgotten promises, but neither of them cared. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air, mingling with the soft gasps and sighs that escaped between their kisses.

Omer groaned as she raked her hands over his bare chest, the heat of her touch searing through him, leaving him breathless. He kissed her harder, more deeply, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt, for hesitation. His hands gripped her thighs, pulling her closer, and Isabella's mind went blank, lost in the sensation of his mouth against hers, the way his body pressed against hers with a desperation that matched her own.

In the frenzy of their movements, the glass of wine she had left on the edge of the desk tipped over, crashing to the floor and sending a cascade of deep red liquid over the carpet. The documents she had been working on were swept off the desk, fluttering to the ground like forgotten leaves. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was the heat, the way their bodies seemed to find each other even in the darkness they had both tried so hard to hide behind.

For a moment, it seemed like nothing could break the spell that held them together, the rush of desire that had brought them to this point. But then, just as Omer's hands slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, as his lips traveled a scorching path down the curve of her neck, he suddenly stilled.

He pulled back, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps, and for a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression raw with emotions he could no longer contain. His hands remained on her thighs, but the heat in his gaze shifted to something more vulnerable, more uncertain.

"Isabella," he said, his voice rough and edged with a plea he hadn't meant to reveal. "Tell me... what am I to you?"

His question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. Isabella's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. Her chest tightened, the words she had kept buried clawing at the edges of her mind, but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Her hands, still resting against his bare chest, trembled, but she held his gaze, unable to look away from the storm of emotions she saw there. She couldn't answer that question—not without revealing everything. Not without admitting the truth that lay buried deep within her heart.

Omer's insecurity surged up, threatening to drown him. He had been chasing her for so long, wanting nothing more than to claim her, to make her his own. But now, as he looked into her eyes, he realized that conquering her physically would never be enough. He wanted more—he wanted to be with her forever, to build a life together. But fear gripped him suddenly, squeezing tight around his heart. What if she left again? What if she had never really loved him at all?

Omer's jaw clenched, and he released a breath that sounded almost like a laugh—bitter, filled with self-recrimination. "You can't even say it, can you?" he murmured, his tone turning harsh with frustration, with a hurt that cut through the heat between them like a knife. "You'll let me touch you, let me kiss you... but when it comes to telling me what you want, you freeze."

Isabella tried to speak, to find the words that would make sense of the confusion, the yearning that twisted inside her, but all that came out was a shaky breath. She opened her mouth, then closed it, feeling the weight of everything she had hidden pressing down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe.

How could she admit that she loved him, that she had never stopped loving him, even as she ran away from him time and time again?
Omer's jaw tightened, his patience fraying. "Isabella," he almost shouted, "did you ever love me? Did you ever regret leaving me?"

Omer's expression darkened, and he took a step back, pulling away from her warmth, from the promise that had hovered between them only moments before. He grabbed his torn shirt from the floor, his movements sharp, his eyes never leaving hers. "What are you so afraid of, Isabella?" he demanded, his voice rising with a desperation that matched the wild beat of his heart. "Are you really going to throw me away again? Is that what you want?"

Her silence was answer enough, and he shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips as he shoved his arms back into the ruined sleeves. "Fine. If that's how you want it, I won't beg."

But she could see the hurt in his eyes, the way it cut through the anger, and for a moment, she thought he might say something more—something that would break through the walls between them. But instead, he turned on his heel, yanking his jacket from the back of a chair, his footsteps echoing through the quiet office as he stormed toward the door.

Omer paused just before he reached the threshold, his back to her, his shoulders tense with barely restrained emotion. "You think you're protecting yourself, Isabella," he said, his voice so low she almost missed the words. "But all you're doing is keeping yourself alone."

And then he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Isabella alone in the wreckage of her office, with the broken glass on the floor and the taste of his kiss still lingering on her lips.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, as if trying to hold back the sob that threatened to break free, but it was no use. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she sank down to the edge of the desk, her shoulders shaking with the force of everything she had tried so hard to keep hidden.

She had never meant for things to go this far, never meant to let him back in. But now, as she stared at the empty space where he had stood, she couldn't help but wonder if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life.