Why Do I Still Want Him?
I should have walked away.
I should have slammed the door in his face and told him we were done.
But instead?
I was standing here, caught in the gravity of him.
Ethan Carter.
The boy who ruined me.
The man who refused to let me go.
And the worst part?
I still wanted him.
Even after everything.
Even now.
And I hated myself for it.
Ethan watched me, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense.
Waiting.
For me to run.
For me to fight.
For me to say the words that would finally break us apart.
But I didn't.
And maybe that was the real problem.
Because deep down, I didn't want to break.
I just wanted him to pull me back in.
He stepped closer.
Slow. Careful.
Like he was afraid if he moved too fast, I'd disappear.
"Liv," he murmured.
I swallowed hard.
His hand lifted, brushing against my wrist.
I should have pulled away.
I should have shoved him back, slammed the door, walked away.
But instead?
I let him touch me.
And God help me, I leaned into it.
"I hate you," I whispered.
It wasn't true.
And we both knew it.
Ethan's lips curled into something dark.
Something knowing.
"No, you don't."
His fingers traced up my arm, leaving a trail of fire.
And I let him.
Because I was weak.
Because I was self-destructive.
Because, even after everything…
I still wanted him.
Ethan moved closer; his breath warm against my skin.
"You stayed."
His voice was low, rough. Full of something raw.
I hated the way my stomach flipped.
I hated the way I wanted to reach for him.
But most of all?
I hated the fact that he was right.
I had stayed.
Even when I had every reason to run.
Even when I knew he would drag me under with him.
He was too close now.
His hand slid up, curling around the back of my neck, tilting my head up to him.
I knew what he was doing.
I knew what was coming.
And I should have stopped it.
But I didn't.
His lips brushed against mine.
Soft. Slow.
Like he was giving me a choice.
Like he was daring me to be the one to end this.
But I didn't pull away.
And neither did he.
Because, deep down, we both knew—
There was no ending this.
The second I kissed him back, everything snapped.
Ethan's hand tightened, his other arm wrapping around me, pulling me against him.
And God help me, I melted.
Because no one had ever kissed me like this.
Like I was the only thing that mattered.
Like he had been starving for me.
Like he knew this was the only thing keeping him sane.
And I?
I let him.
Because I was just as desperate.
Just as lost.
Just as wrecked by him as he was by me.
But it didn't last.
Because the second we pulled apart, the second I saw the look in his eyes—
I knew.
This wasn't just about love.
This was about control.
Ethan didn't just want me.
He wanted to keep me.
To make sure I never walked away.
And the worst part?
I wanted him to.
I wanted him to fight for me.
To never let me go.
Even though I knew I should.
His breath was uneven.
His fingers still clung to me like he was afraid I would disappear.
"I need you," he whispered.
My stomach clenched.
Because that?
That was the problem.
Ethan needed me.
But did he love me?
Did he know how?
Did I?
I wasn't sure.
But I wanted him anyway.
And maybe?
Maybe that was worse.
Ethan's grip tightened; his voice raw.
"You're not leaving."
It wasn't a question.
It wasn't a plea.
It was a fact.
And I should have been scared.
I should have pushed him away.
But instead?
I whispered the one thing that sealed my fate.
"I know."
And just like that—
I was his again.
Liv and Ethan fall back into their dangerous cycle.
Ethan refuses to let her go, and Liv isn't sure she wants him to.
A dark realization—this isn't just love. It's obsession.
What happens when love and control blur into something even more dangerous?