CHAPTER 19

Drowning in Desire

The kiss was unlike anything Naarah had ever experienced.

Peter wasn't soft.

He wasn't hesitant.

He kissed her like a man who had finally lost control.

And she—

She kissed him back.

Because this—whatever it was between them—had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

The rain poured over them, drenching their clothes, making everything slick and heated. But they didn't care.

Peter's fingers curled at the back of her neck, deepening the kiss, demanding more.

Naarah gasped against his lips, overwhelmed by the sensation of him.

He tasted like danger. Like dominance. Like something she should resist—

But couldn't.

Her fingers fisted in his wet shirt, clinging to him, unsure if she wanted to push him away—

Or pull him closer.

Peter growled low in his throat, as if he could feel her hesitation.

"Let go, sweetheart," he murmured against her lips.

Naarah shivered.

She didn't know if it was from the cold rain—

Or from him.

But just as she thought she might actually surrender, reality came crashing in.

What was she doing?

This was Peter.

The man who was supposed to be untouchable. The man who teased her, toyed with her, challenged her.

And here she was—kissing him in the middle of the street like she belonged to him.

Panic flared in her chest.

"I—I can't," she gasped, tearing herself away.

Peter's grip on her tightened for a second, as if he wasn't willing to let her go.

But then, slowly, his hands fell to his sides.

His expression was unreadable.

Naarah stepped back, her heart hammering.

She was breathing too fast.

Everything felt too much.

"I have to go," she whispered.

Peter didn't stop her.

But as she turned and ran into the night—

She could feel his gaze burning into her.

---

Later That Night – Naarah's Apartment

Naarah paced her bedroom, her arms wrapped around herself.

Her lips still tingled.

Her body still ached with the memory of Peter's hands on her.

This wasn't good.

She was supposed to be resisting him.

So why did she feel like she was losing?

She groaned, throwing herself onto the bed.

Maybe if she slept, she could forget about it.

Forget about him.

But the moment she closed her eyes—

All she could see was Peter.

The way he looked at her before kissing her.

The way he felt against her.

The way he made her feel.

She was doomed.

---

Meanwhile – Peter's Penthouse

Peter stood by the window of his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

He hadn't moved since he got home.

Since she ran.

His jaw tightened.

He had known it would scare her.

Had known she would fight it.

But he also knew the truth.

She wanted him.

And sooner or later—

She would admit it.

Peter took a slow sip of his drink, his mind already calculating his next move.

Because one thing was certain.

This wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.

---

The Next Day – At Work

Naarah was determined to act normal.

To pretend last night never happened.

But the moment she walked into the office—

She felt it.

The shift.

The air was heavier.

More charged.

Because Peter was watching her.

He stood near his office, hands in his pockets, his gaze locked onto her.

Naarah swallowed hard.

He knew.

He knew she hadn't stopped thinking about it.

Knew she was affected.

And worst of all—

He was amused.

She squared her shoulders and walked past him without a word.

But just as she reached her desk, a deep voice rumbled behind her.

"Naarah."

Her heart jumped.

Slowly, she turned.

Peter was closer than she expected, standing just behind her chair, his presence overwhelming.

"Yes?" she managed, keeping her tone steady.

His lips twitched.

"I need you in my office. Now."

A command.

Not a request.

Naarah hesitated.

Going in there meant being alone with him.

And after last night, that felt… dangerous.

But she couldn't refuse.

So she nodded, rising to follow him.

Peter led her inside, shutting the door behind them.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Just watched her.

Then—

"Did you sleep last night?"

Naarah's breath caught.

Because he knew.

He knew she had spent the entire night thinking about him.

She lifted her chin. "Of course."

Peter hummed, stepping closer.

"Really?"

Her pulse skipped.

He was too close.

Too warm.

Too much.

She took a step back—only to find herself pressed against his desk.

Trapped.

Peter's hands landed on either side of her, caging her in.

"You ran last night," he murmured.

Naarah swallowed hard. "I—"

He leaned in, his breath brushing against her ear.

"You won't run forever."

A shiver shot down her spine.

"Peter—"

He pulled back slightly, his gaze dark.

"You want me, Naarah," he said, voice low. "Say it."

Her lips parted, her breath uneven.

She wanted to deny it.

Wanted to lie.

But she couldn't.

Because the truth was—

She did want him.

Desperately.

And Peter knew it.

Which meant…

This war between them was only just beginning.