You still taste the same

Leyla slammed the fitting room door shut behind her, gripping the fabric of her dress tightly. Her heart was racing—not from fear, but from something far more dangerous.

"This is madness," she whispered to herself. "I can't let him control me like this."

She quickly changed into her usual clothes, desperate to shake off the feeling of Ozan's hands on her waist, his breath against her skin. But even as she tried, his words lingered in her mind.

"My bride."

The thought sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

—

Later That Night

Leyla sat by her window, staring at the moonlit sky. She needed to think, to find a way out of this. But deep down, she knew the truth—there was no escape. Her parents had made their decision, and Ozan… Ozan wasn't the type of man to let go of what was his.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. She hesitated before picking it up.

Ozan: Are you asleep?

She sighed, debating whether to respond. Before she could type anything, another message came in.

Ozan: I'll take that as a no. Come outside.

Her heart skipped a beat. Outside? At this hour?

Leyla: Why?

Ozan: Because I said so. Don't make me come upstairs and drag you out myself, princess.

Leyla's fingers trembled as she typed. Go home, Ozan.

Ozan: Step outside. Now.

She clenched her jaw. He was impossible. But something told her that if she didn't go, he would come up, and she didn't want to risk waking her parents.

Sighing in frustration, she grabbed a shawl and quietly made her way downstairs, slipping out into the cool night air.

Ozan stood near his car, leaning against it casually, but his eyes burned with something unreadable.

"What is it now?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

Without answering, Ozan took slow steps toward her. The closer he got, the more intense his presence felt.

He stopped just inches away, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I missed you."

Leyla's breath caught in her throat. "You saw me this afternoon."

Ozan tilted his head, his lips curving into a smirk. "And? That wasn't enough."

His hand moved, tracing the side of her jaw. "Do you know what I've been thinking about all night?"

Leyla swallowed hard. She had a feeling she didn't want to know. "Ozan—"

"Your lips." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I wonder if they're still as soft as I remember."

Before she could step back, Ozan's hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Let me remind myself, hmm?"

And with that, his lips crashed against hers.

Leyla's mind went blank the moment Ozan's lips touched hers. His kiss was demanding, possessive—completely overpowering her senses. She wanted to push him away, to fight back, but her body betrayed her. The warmth of his touch, the way he held her as if he would never let go—it sent a shiver down her spine.

She gripped his shirt, unsure if she was pulling him closer or trying to push him away. But Ozan wasn't giving her a choice. He deepened the kiss, his fingers tightening around her waist, pulling her even closer.

When he finally pulled back, Leyla gasped for air, her lips tingling from the force of his kiss. Ozan smirked, his thumb brushing against her lower lip.

"You still taste the same," he murmured. "Sweet. Addictive."

Leyla's heart pounded in her chest. "You—You can't just do this!" she hissed, shoving at his chest.

Ozan chuckled, completely unfazed. "I already did, aşkım."

Her face burned at the pet name. "Stop calling me that."

"Why?" He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You'll be my wife in a few days. Should I start calling you karım instead?"

Leyla's stomach dropped. "That's not happening."

Ozan's smirk faded, his eyes darkening. "It is happening, Leyla." He leaned in, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And you better start accepting it."

She clenched her fists. "You think you can control me? That I'll just obey you like some puppet?"

Ozan's gaze locked onto hers, unreadable. Then, suddenly, he let her go.

"We'll see," he said simply, stepping back.

Before she could react, he turned and drove his car away, disappearing into the night—leaving Leyla standing there, heart racing, breath unsteady.