Chapter 32 – When the Walls Crumble

Celeste swallowed hard. Her heart pounded so fiercely she feared Alistair could hear it.

"I could kiss you now, but I want you to ask for it," he whispered, his voice low and tempting.

Celeste should refuse. She should step away and rebuild the walls she had so carefully maintained. But her body refused to move. She could still feel Alistair's fingers resting against her chin—a touch so light, yet somehow impossibly strong.

Their eyes remained locked. Alistair's gray gaze traced every detail of her face, as if ensnaring her completely.

"I..." Celeste parted her lips, but the sound barely escaped.

She couldn't think clearly. Not when he was this close. Not when his intoxicating scent surrounded her senses, or when the warmth of his body felt so undeniably real.

Alistair seemed to catch her hesitation. Instead of waiting, he tilted her chin slightly higher, bringing their faces even closer.

"Then I'll do it without you asking," he murmured.

And before Celeste could respond, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was soft. Unlike before—not demanding, not forceful. This time, Alistair kissed her as if afraid she would run if he pushed too hard.

Celeste froze. Heat spread through her body. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her dress, searching for something to ground herself.

As Alistair drew her closer, his hand slid to her waist, pulling her in just a fraction more. His lips moved with a slow, deliberate patience, teasing her with a tenderness that sent shivers down her spine.

She should stop this. She should pull away before things became even more dangerous.

But instead, she did the opposite.

Without realizing it, her fingers lifted, grasping the collar of his shirt. She didn't push him away. She didn't resist. Instead, she allowed him to deepen the kiss.

A quiet sound escaped Alistair's throat—whether from surprise or satisfaction, she wasn't sure.

A few moments later, Alistair slowly pulled back, though not far. His lips hovered just inches from hers, his breath unsteady.

Their eyes met again.

"Celeste," he murmured, his voice thick with something unreadable.

Celeste shut her eyes briefly, trying to gather her senses. She didn't even know what had just happened. All she knew was that the walls she had built between them were starting to crumble.

"I have to go," she whispered quickly, before he could say anything more.

She stood, turning toward the door.

But before she could reach for the handle, Alistair's voice stopped her.

"Don't run from me, Celeste."

She bit her lip, refusing to turn around.

"I won't let you go that easily," he continued, his voice softer now, but still carrying that same commanding edge that made something tighten in her chest.

Celeste closed her eyes.

She knew—after tonight, nothing would ever be the same again.

Celeste stood frozen in front of the door, her fingers hovering in the air, hesitating between reaching for the handle or staying where she was.

"Don't run from me, Celeste."

Alistair's words still echoed in her ears, his voice deep—almost a whisper that haunted her.

Don't run…

What had just happened? What had she allowed to happen?

Her heart was still pounding. Her lips could still feel the soft imprint of Alistair's kiss—something different from before. There was no force, no dominance. It wasn't the kiss of a man trying to claim her. It was the kiss of a man who… wanted her to trust him.

Celeste shut her eyes, trying to steady her breath.

"Celeste."

His voice was closer this time.

She turned quickly, and sure enough—he was standing just a few steps away. His gray eyes held hers with an intensity that sent shivers through her, as if he was reading every emotion flickering across her face.

"You still haven't answered me," he said softly.

Celeste bit her lip, refusing to respond.

Alistair exhaled, and without warning, he reached for her waist, pulling her into his embrace.

"Ngh—" Celeste gasped, her hands instinctively pushing against his chest. But he didn't let her go.

"Celeste, if you truly want to leave… tell me you mean it," he whispered near her ear.

Celeste stiffened. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, the way his arms encircled her waist—firm but never hurting.

If she really wanted to leave, she could. So why wasn't she moving?

"Don't lie to me," Alistair murmured, his hand lifting to her face, his thumb brushing her cheek in a gentle caress. "You're trembling… What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid," Celeste replied, her voice quieter than she expected.

Alistair tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. "Then why are you running?"

Celeste had no answer.

Alistair didn't give her time to think. His lips pressed against her cheek, trailing slowly down to her jaw, before pausing at the curve of her neck.

Celeste held her breath.

"I can feel your body relaxing in my arms," he whispered, his voice deep and certain. "Don't deny it, Celeste."

She shut her eyes tightly. Why did this man always make her lose her reason?

But she knew.

It wasn't because of Alistair. It was because of herself.

Celeste was simply too tired to fight anymore.

With reluctance, she finally lifted her hands, letting her fingers brush against Alistair's arm, gripping it lightly.

He tensed for a moment, then, without hesitation, tightened his embrace, pulling her even closer and allowing her to rest her head against his chest.

"I won't force you to accept my feelings, Celeste," he murmured, resting his chin atop her head. "But I won't let you keep hiding from me either."

Celeste didn't answer.

She simply stood there, letting Alistair's warmth surround her.

For the first time, she didn't feel the need to run.