Cherry Lips

Chloe stepped back into the grand room, smoothing her dress as she wove through the mingling guests.

Damien didn't matter, and Noah was overreacting, or so she told herself.

Inside the hall, the auction had ended, the formalities settling into an air of celebration.

The orchestra played a softer melody, couples swaying gracefully on the dance floor, laughter and the scent of rich wine settling beneath the dazzling chandeliers.

She exhaled, steadying herself. She walked slowly to the middle of the room as she sat on the stool at the bar. The night was long, from nearly getting knocked over by Ryan to being left behind by Noah, she wasn't sure she wanted to indulge in the after-party.

"Something strong please," Chloe ordered as she ran her hands through her blonde hair, then as her eyes lingered across the room. She saw him.

Damien. Her gaze locked onto him before she could stop herself. And in that moment it felt like the night they met, only this time, he wasn't alone, he didn't look dark and dangerous.

This time he was free, happy, gentle.

Chloe watched him as he moved on the dance floor, his arms wrapped around a stunning brunette, his hands gently placed on her lower back leading her effortlessly across the polished floor.

He leaned closer as he whispered something into her ear. She laughed with so much composure, her head resting on his chest as she gripped his shoulder. Her body leaned into his as though they were caught in their own little world.

Something in Chloe's chest twisted. It was ridiculous - completely ridiculous but she found herself unable to look away.

Her eyes darkened with something she could not quite place. He was just a flirt, wasn't he? A man like Damien Cross didn't settle for just one woman. He enjoyed the game….the chase, flirting with women. Touching them like they belonged to him.

And yet… she didn't look away.

She scoffed under her breath, as she tried to shake off the strange tension gripping her. Damien's grip on the woman's waist was firm yet effortless. His posture was relaxed, his dark eyes half-lidded. But it wasn't the woman in his arms he was paying attention to. As if he felt her gaze, Damien looked up and in that precise moment, he caught Chloe staring.

Heat rushed to her face. How could she have let herself get so immersed in their nonsense?

Damien turned back to the woman, his movements slowed ever so slightly as if he were deliberating something. His fingers skimmed lazily over her back before he leaned down and murmured something against her ear again. She laughed, touching his chest, as he released her into the crowd.

Then, he moved slowly, not toward the woman. Not toward anyone else. Toward her.

Panic flared in her chest as he approached her. No, she wasn't doing this. Without thinking, she threw herself off the stool as she headed for the staircase at the back of the hall.

She didn't even know where she was going, she didn't know why she was running.

She just knew she couldn't stand there any longer, waiting to see what he would say—or worse, what he would do.

Chloe heard the distinct sounds of footsteps quicken behind her.

"Chloe."

His voice was smooth, and controlled. But she didn't listen. She didn't turn back.

She quickened her steps, her heels clicking against the floor as she ascended the stairs.

"Chloe," Damien called again. His tone edged with something between amusement and warning.

She continued to ignore him as she reached the top of the stairs, her heart pounding.

When she turned a corner, suddenly a firm grip caught her waist pulling her back.

A gasp left her lips as she stumbled, colliding straight into the solid heat of his chest.

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

She looked up, holding her breath. Damien's face was inches from hers, his grip still firm but not forceful. His scent—clean, musky, rich —filled her senses. His expression was blank, but something was simmering beneath the surface. Something intense.

"What are you doing?" She said angrily, pulling away from him.

"What do you mean?"

She took a step back, "why did you let me win the bid?"

Damien looked confused. "I told you - I was just being a gentleman."

Chloe narrowed her eyes, "And were you also being a gentleman when you interrupted my dance?"

"I didn't interrupt anything, I asked and you took my hand, remember."

"My date left because of you," Chloe yelled.

"Well it's not my fault your date didn't understand simple courtesy." Damien said nonchalantly.

"Oh?" She stepped closer. The warmth of his body brushed against her skin.

Damien closed the gap between them taking hold of her wrist.

"Why were you running?" he asked, his voice quieter now, but stern.

"I wasn't—"

"Lying doesn't suit you, Chloe."

"I'm not lying," she said as she tried to pull her wrist free, but he didn't let go. Instead, he leaned in slightly, tilting his head.

"Were you jealous?"

She scoffed, masking the slight tremble in her voice. "Of what?."

A smirk tugged at his lips, slow and teasing. "I don't know, you tell me."

She hated how easily he got under her skin. How effortlessly he toyed with her emotions like they were strings he could pluck at will.

"You're insufferable," she muttered.

"Do you always fight this hard for things you want?." He asked whispering down her neck.

Her cheeks burned. She turned her head away, but he gently tipped her chin back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

The tension between them thickened, humming like a live wire.

"I don't want you" she said her voice breaking in between the lines.

Then, he murmured, "Then why were you watching me?"

She opened her mouth to respond—maybe to argue, maybe to deny—but the words never came.

Because in the next second, Damien leaned in. Pressing her chest against him as he planted his lips gently onto hers.

It was soft at first. A mere brush of lips, testing, teasing. But then she responded, whether out of impulse or something deeper, she wasn't sure and the kiss deepened.

His hand slid up her arm, fingers curling at the nape of her neck. Her pulse roared in her ears, her body betraying her mind as she melted into him. The world outside this moment faded. There was only Damien—his warmth, his touch, the way his lips moved against hers as if he had wanted to do this all night.

Then reality crashed back in. She pulled away abruptly, holding her lips as if she had just broken something sacred.

He let go of her, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the silence thick with something unspoken.

Then she whispered, almost to herself, "Why would you do that?"

Damien's expression shifted. Something unreadable flickered through his eyes before his features hardened, his usual cool composure snapping back into place.

What are you doing Damien? He thought to himself. He hated that he had let his guard down. But he didn't say anything, instead, he simply stepped back, releasing her completely.

"Go home, Chloe," he said, his voice quieter this time.

She lingered for only a second longer the gentle shock on her face now transitioning into something more intense. Dark and angry.

She took a step back as if waiting for him to say something else but when he only looked at her with those cold eyes, she turned and walked away.

Damien watched her go, his jaw tightened, and his hands clenched.

He can't go after her, hell! he should never have kissed her.

She wasn't someone he was meant to please. She was a way in. A step closer to what he wanted.

That wasn't supposed to happen.

He rubbed his fingers on his forehead trying to relieve himself but nothing happened.

As he stood in the hallway he watched her disappear. And for the first time. He didn't feel in control.

Chloe busted the back door of the hall open, a cool night breeze kissed her skin, soothing the heat still lingering in her veins. She wrapped her arms around herself, exhaling sharply as she made her way toward the valet.

The wait felt longer than it should have, her thoughts tangled in the moment she'd just escaped. Her lips still tingled, her heart still drummed against her ribs.

When the valet finally pulled up, she took the keys with a nod, slipping into the driver's seat. The car smelled of leather and faint perfume—nothing like Damien's scent, yet somehow, he was still everywhere.

The drive home was silent, she didn't bother turning on the radio. Even if she did, she doubted it could drown out her thoughts.

By the time she reached her apartment, exhaustion had settled into her bones, and sleep was the last thing on her mind. She pushed the door open, kicked her heels off carelessly, and let her body sink against the wall.

She took gentle breaths as she touched her lips. It wasn't like the first time.

No alcohol. No impulsive recklessness.

And that's what scared her.

She had let it happen. Again.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to push the thoughts away. But before she could process any of it further, a quiet exhale broke through the silence.

Her head snapped up, scanning the room.

In the dim light, a figure sat in a chair in the corner of the living room, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze distant and unfocused.

Her pulse picked up, and without thinking, she reached down, gripping one of her Chloe heels on the floor, her pals tightening around it like a weapon. She took a slow step forward, her bare feet soundless against the hardwood.

Her was was shallow, her heart hammered but as she drew closer, the figure became clearer.

Dishevelled hair, a familiar slouch. The moment her eyes adjusted to the light, recognition hit her like a wave.

"Ryan?" Her brows furrowed as she stepped forward.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?"

He didn't move, he didn't flinch. Only his eyes unfocused and heavy slowly lifted to meet hers.

She lowered the shoe, confusion and unease moving in her chest.

"What the hell are you doing here? She snapped.

Ryan didn't answer. He took a long pause, then as I'd he had just gathered the strength to speak, he parted his lips.

"There's something you need to know Chloe.