part 4 : kiss of control

The night was sharp and electric, the crowd's energy thrumming through the air, vibrating against Fiona's skin as she settled into her seat in the stands. Paris was alive under the floodlights, the city that never slept pulsing with every cheer, every movement on the pitch. She had always enjoyed the game from a distance, but tonight, there was an underlying tension that she couldn't quite shake.

The match had begun, the players swift and precise, but it wasn't the game that held Fiona's attention. It was him.

Damien.

She'd seen him before, of course. He was impossible to miss with his wild, untamed energy on the field, always pushing forward, taking risks. There was an allure about him, a rawness that was hard to ignore. His eyes, though—those eyes that never seemed to stay on one place for long, constantly searching, constantly watching. And now, as the game unfolded, Fiona couldn't help but feel that same unnerving pull.

And then, there it was. His gaze.

It was quick, just a glance over his shoulder as he prepared to take a corner kick. But it was enough. It locked with hers, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The crowd's roar. The blaring horns. The flashing lights. All of it was gone, leaving only that intense look, like he could see straight through her.

Fiona felt a strange heat spread through her chest, something she hadn't expected. She quickly turned away, trying to focus on the game, but her heart was racing, her thoughts scattered.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to feel anything. She had no intention of getting tangled in whatever this was.

But then, after the game, when the players streamed off the pitch, something shifted.

Fiona was trying to make her way out of the stadium, distracted by the buzz of excitement surrounding her, when she felt a hand on her arm. She froze, looking up to see Damien standing there, close—far too close—and his eyes weren't filled with that same energy from the game. Now they were darker. Intense. And they were focused on her.

"Did you enjoy the show?" he asked, his voice low, too close to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

Fiona opened her mouth to respond, but before she could form the words, Damien stepped closer, crowding her space. His hand slid to her waist, his fingers curling possessively, as though he had every right to touch her. He didn't give her a chance to pull away, and for a split second, she wondered if maybe he was too close.

Her heart hammered, adrenaline rushing through her veins.

"Listen," she started, trying to step back, but he wouldn't let her. His grip on her tightened, and his lips curled into a smirk.

"You don't get to walk away from this," Damien murmured, his voice dark and smooth, sending a surge of heat through her. "Not yet."

Fiona tried again to pull away, but her feet felt rooted to the ground. His presence was overwhelming, like he was suffocating her with his proximity.

And then, without warning, his lips crashed onto hers.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't romantic. It wasn't a kiss of affection or desire. It was harsh. Demanding. His hand was firm on the back of her neck, forcing her head back as his lips slanted over hers, trapping her in the kiss she couldn't escape.

She gasped, her pulse quickening with the suddenness of it. The taste of him was everywhere—dangerous, intoxicating, overwhelming. His tongue brushed against hers, insistent, as if he was claiming her in front of the entire stadium. Her thoughts scrambled, her chest tight with the shock of it all. This wasn't supposed to be happening. She wasn't supposed to let him kiss her like this.

But the longer it lasted, the harder it became to pull away. Something about the force of his kiss—the dominance, the control—had her body betraying her. The world outside felt like it was closing in, and all she could focus on was Damien and the way he held her captive.

Finally, when she thought she might pass out from lack of air, Damien pulled away. Just slightly. His breath came fast and shallow, but his eyes never left hers.

"You're not going anywhere," he whispered, his lips still hovering close enough that she could feel the warmth of his words. "Not until I say so."

Fiona's heart raced, a mixture of anger, confusion, and an emotion she couldn't name curling deep inside her. She wanted to slap him. Push him away. But for some reason, she couldn't move. Couldn't find the strength to pull away from the dangerous allure he had wrapped around her.

Damien's smirk widened as he leaned in again, brushing his lips against her ear. "You'll come to me, Fiona," he murmured. "You won't be able to stay away."

Fiona's breath caught in her throat. She didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. All she knew was that somehow, despite everything, she was already tangled in his web—and he was far from done with her.