A Wet Mistake

The music pounded through the club, a rhythmic pulse of deep bass and electronic beats that vibrated through Amara's body. She felt light, almost weightless, the slight haze of alcohol dulling the sharp edges of her thoughts.

Leah had been right—getting out, dressing up, and letting loose had done something to her. She felt different, like the shattered pieces of her life had momentarily fused together, making her forget the chaos that had been consuming her lately.

And then there was Rafael.

Their bodies moved in sync on the dance floor, his hands firm on her waist, his presence overwhelming. The moment had blurred—her inhibitions slipping further and further with every passing second. He smelled of something dark and intoxicating, and when his lips had ghosted near her ear, she had forgotten to breathe.

Just as she tilted her head back, letting herself sink into the pull of him, Leah's voice cut through the haze like a whip.

"Amara!"

A harsh reality crashed over her, snatching her from the heat between them. Leah's eyes were wide, a mix of alarm and disbelief flashing across her face. "What the hell are you doing?"

The words barely registered before Rafael pulled away, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. The moment was gone, and so was he. In an instant, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, his retreat swift and calculated, like he had never been there at all.

Amara stood there, swaying slightly, her head spinning from both the alcohol and the aftermath of Rafael's touch. Leah grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the center of the floor. "Are you out of your mind?" she hissed. "He's your professor, Amara!"

Amara ran a hand through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts. "I—I wasn't thinking."

Leah scoffed, dragging her toward the bar. "Yeah, no kidding." She plopped onto a stool, motioning for Amara to do the same. "You need water."

"I'm fine," Amara muttered, though her voice wavered slightly.

"You're not fine," Leah shot back. "Do you have any idea how reckless that was? What if someone else saw?"

A dull throbbing settled between Amara's temples, but she couldn't focus on Leah's words. Her mind was elsewhere—on the heat of Rafael's touch, on the way he had looked at her, like she was something he wanted to devour.

"I just… I need a minute." She slid off the stool before Leah could protest and wove her way toward the balcony exit. The club air was thick with sweat, smoke, and perfume, but the cool night outside was crisp, biting against her warm skin.

She leaned against the railing, breathing in deep, trying to steady herself. The night sky stretched vast and endless above her, but even the expanse of it couldn't quiet the turmoil within her. What was happening to her? To them?

"Running away, little rebel?"

The voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She turned sharply, her breath hitching. Rafael stood a few steps away, his silhouette dark against the neon lights of the club. He looked utterly unaffected—calm, confident, dangerously composed.

"Go away," she whispered, but the words held no conviction.

He smirked. "That's not what you wanted back there."

Her pulse spiked. "That was a mistake."

He took a step closer. "Was it?"

She backed up instinctively, her spine pressing against the cool metal railing. He was too close now, his scent wrapping around her like a drug. She could still feel his hands on her, the phantom touch branding her skin.

"This is wrong," she said, her voice weak.

Rafael exhaled a low chuckle. "Then why do you look at me like you want me to ruin you?"

Her breath caught. "I don't."

"Liar."

His hand came up, fingers trailing along her jaw, tilting her face upward. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. He leaned in, slow and deliberate, his breath fanning over her cheek.

"I see the way you react to me," he murmured. "The way you tremble when I touch you."

Amara swallowed hard. "You're arrogant."

"And you're beautiful when you pretend to hate me."

Her heart hammered against her ribs, her resolve slipping like sand through her fingers. She should push him away. She should leave. She should do anything but stand here, letting him unravel her with nothing but words and a touch.

"Say it," he whispered. "Say you don't want me."

She couldn't.

Because it would be a lie.

Rafael smiled, a dark, knowing curve of his lips. "That's what I thought."

Before she could gather another breath, he closed the space between them.

His lips crushed against hers, fierce and demanding, igniting something dangerous and uncontrollable within her. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't sweet. It was a battle, a clash of desire and defiance. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, and she melted into him, all logic dissolving.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as she kissed him back just as fiercely. Every touch, every movement was electric, setting her skin ablaze. He groaned against her mouth, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat down her spine.

He deepened the kiss, his grip tightening like he wanted to claim her entirely. Her knees went weak, and he caught her effortlessly, pressing her back against the railing, trapping her between his body and the cold metal.

"Still a mistake?" he breathed against her lips.

Amara's head was spinning, her body betraying every rational thought. "Yes," she whispered.

His teeth grazed her lower lip before he pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and wild. "Then let's make another."

A thrill shot through her, her body humming with anticipation, but before she could respond, the distant sound of Leah calling her name shattered the moment.

Reality slammed into her like a tidal wave. She blinked, her breath coming in ragged pants, her lips swollen from his kiss. Rafael stepped back, his expression unreadable once more.

She opened her mouth, searching for words, but he was already turning away, disappearing into the night just as easily as he had come.

Amara pressed a trembling hand to her lips, her heart still racing.

What the hell had she just done?

Leah's voice rang out again, sharp and insistent. "Amara! Where the hell are you?"

Rafael exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. His dark eyes flickered with irritation as he turned his head toward the sound of Leah's approach. His presence alone seemed to command control, but now, there was something different—something dangerous. His gaze shifted back to Amara, then past her, where Leah's silhouette was moving closer.

"Go away," he ordered, his voice calm but laced with undeniable authority.

Leah froze in her tracks, eyes darting between Amara and Rafael. "Excuse me?"

Rafael didn't repeat himself. His eyes darkened further, a silent warning radiating from him. Leah hesitated, her mouth opening as if to protest, but the intensity in his stare silenced her. With a clenched jaw, she turned on her heel and walked away, shooting Amara one last glance over her shoulder—a mix of concern and disbelief.

Amara barely registered Leah's retreat because Rafael was already looking at her again, his gaze dragging over her face, her lips, her body. She was trembling, but not from fear. No, it was something else entirely.

"You let people control you too easily," he murmured, stepping closer, the warmth of his body licking at her skin like fire against ice. "But not me. You don't want to fight me, do you?"

She swallowed hard, her breath unsteady. "I—I don't know."

Rafael tilted his head, his fingers brushing the side of her jaw, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt of heat through her. "You do know," he whispered. "You just don't want to admit it."

Amara sucked in a shaky breath as his fingers traced down the column of her throat, pausing at the rapid pulse hammering beneath her skin. He could feel what he did to her, and he reveled in it.

"You're trembling again," he noted, his voice smooth as silk, his lips barely inches from hers. "I wonder if it's fear or anticipation."

She parted her lips, ready to speak, but he didn't give her the chance. His hands gripped her hips, firm and possessive, and he spun her around, pressing her back against the cool metal railing once more. A shiver raced down her spine, but it wasn't from the night air—it was from him.

His lips brushed over the shell of her ear, his breath hot as he murmured, "Tell me to stop."

She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Instead, her fingers fisted into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. The smirk that ghosted across his lips was filled with satisfaction.

"That's what I thought," he said before capturing her lips in a kiss so deep, so consuming, it stole the very air from her lungs.

His hands slid lower, molding to the curves of her body, pulling her flush against him. The hardness of his body against the softness of hers sent a wildfire of need racing through her veins. Her own hands moved of their own accord, fingers threading into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as she arched into him.

Rafael groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips. He kissed her harder, deeper, as if he could devour her whole. His tongue slid against hers, demanding and unapologetic, and she responded in kind, tilting her head to give him more, to let him take more.

A sharp gasp left her lips as his mouth left hers, only to trail a path down the side of her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. He bit down just enough to send a thrill of heat pooling low in her stomach.

"Rafael," she breathed, his name a plea, a curse, a surrender.

He chuckled darkly, his lips hovering just above the swell of her collarbone. "That's right, sweetheart. Say my name again."

She did.

And then she let him ruin her.

Amara barely had time to catch her breath before Rafael's mouth was on her again, his hands firm on her hips as he pressed her back against the railing. The cold bite of the metal barely registered against the heat coursing through her body. His lips were rough, demanding, coaxing a fire from deep within her that she hadn't even known existed.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer, needing him closer. The club music thumped in the distance, but it was nothing more than a distant hum compared to the roar of blood in her ears. Rafael's hands slid lower, molding to the curve of her waist before gripping her thighs, lifting her just enough that she had no choice but to wrap her legs around him.

"Fuck, Amara," he murmured against her lips, his voice a dark rasp that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "You have no idea what you do to me."

She gasped as his mouth moved to her jaw, then lower, dragging a heated path along the sensitive skin of her throat. Her head tipped back, exposing more of herself to him, and he took full advantage, nipping and sucking at her skin until she was trembling against him.

"Rafael," she breathed, her voice a mix of need and desperation.

He groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding under the hem of her dress, fingers tracing slow, torturous patterns against her bare skin. She felt dizzy, caught between the heat of his touch and the cool night air licking at the places he wasn't touching.

"This is insane," she whispered, even as her body arched into him, seeking more.

His chuckle was dark, amused. "It's inevitable."

Before she could protest, before she could even think, he crushed his lips to hers again. It was deeper this time, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming, possessing. His grip on her tightened, pressing her so firmly against him that she could feel every hard line of his body against hers.

Heat pooled low in her stomach, a delicious ache that made her fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as she let herself get lost in him. He was relentless, his kisses growing rougher, more desperate, as if he needed her just as much as she needed him.

His hands slid up her thighs, fingers teasing the edge of her underwear, and Amara's breath hitched. A sharp thrill ran through her, a mixture of anticipation and reckless abandon.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her lips, his fingers dipping just beneath the lace.

She should. She knew she should. But she couldn't.

Instead, she whispered, "Don't you dare."

A deep growl rumbled from his chest, and then he was lifting her higher, pinning her against the railing as his mouth claimed hers once more. His touch was electric, setting her skin on fire with every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers. She gasped against his lips as he pressed against her, his arousal undeniable, sending shockwaves through her already overheated body.

"Fuck," he muttered, his forehead dropping against hers, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "You're driving me insane."

She felt the same. Her head was spinning, her body aching for more, but just as she was about to tell him that, the sharp ring of his phone cut through the haze.

Rafael froze.

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark and unreadable as he pulled back just enough to reach into his pocket. Amara barely had time to process the shift in his demeanor before he looked at the screen and his entire expression changed.

Gone was the heated intensity, replaced with something colder. Sharper. Dangerous.

She shivered, suddenly hyperaware of the way he held her, of the tension that had locked his muscles tight.

"Rafael?" she whispered, her fingers still curled in his shirt.

He didn't answer. Instead, he set her down carefully, his grip lingering on her waist for just a second before he took a deliberate step back. The loss of his warmth was jarring, sending a cold chill through her that had nothing to do with the night air.

Then he answered the call.

"What?" His voice was clipped, no trace of the teasing arrogance from moments before.

Silence stretched between them as the person on the other end spoke, and whatever they said made his jaw tighten further. His grip on the phone turned white-knuckled, his entire body radiating a dangerous kind of energy that sent a thrill of unease down Amara's spine.

Then, without another word, he disappeared into the night.

Amara stood there, her heart hammering in her chest, her body still burning from his touch.

What the hell had just happened?