The room was heavy with the aftermath of their struggle. Ishani's chest heaved, muscles taut, hair falling wild across her face. Dante stood mere inches from her, smirk sharp, eyes dark and gleaming, like a predator that had just discovered a new thrill.
"You fight beautifully," he murmured, voice low, dangerous, every word laced with a promise.
"I'm not here to fight you," she snapped, spinning, shoving him, teeth bared in pure defiance. "Stay out of my way!"
He caught her wrist in one hand, holding her in place, his other hand bracing lightly against the table, caging her. "You think you're in control, bella? You've been mine the moment you stepped into this room."
Her glare burned hotter than any storm. "I'll never be yours!"
"Not with words," he said softly, leaning closer, the heat of him pressing against hers. "Maybe with… this."
Before she could push him away, his chest brushed hers as he leaned in, the space between their lips shrinking until it was barely a whisper. The air trembled. The fight still raged—her hands scrabbling at his shoulders, her teeth gritted—but something had shifted.
Ishani's eyes narrowed, pulse racing. Fury and something far hotter tangled in her chest. With reckless defiance, she pressed forward, closing the gap—not to submit, but to challenge him. Her lips hovered against his, breath mingling, hearts colliding, the almost-kiss charged with fire and hate and desire all at once.
Dante froze, a flicker of surprise crossing his otherwise controlled expression. Her defiance was intoxicating. His hand remained on her wrist, steadying, restraining, but he let the moment linger, letting her teeter on the edge of surrender without ever crossing the line.
Her chest burned, her knees weak. She jerked back slightly, rage flaring as her lips brushed his just barely—enough to set her world on fire, but not enough for him to claim her.
"You're insufferable," he breathed, voice low, husky, a growl hiding behind the words.
"I'm not yours!" she spat, stepping back, fists still trembling.
He only smirked, leaning back just enough to let her escape—but his eyes never left hers, holding her, daring her to try again. "Not yet," he murmured, dark promise curling around the words. "But soon, bella. Soon, you'll beg me to stop playing."
Ishani's chest heaved, heat and fury warring in her veins. She had almost kissed him, defied him, teased him—and survived.
But both of them knew the storm was far from over