His Dangerous Desire

NICO

I shouldn’t have come.

I told myself that all the way to his bedroom. Told myself again as I stepped past the threshold. And I was still saying it in my head when I let him pull me onto the bed like I belonged there.

But I didn’t stop him.

Ares was already shirtless, the muscles of his chest glowing faintly in the warm light. His skin was cool silk over hard steel. My hands landed on his shoulders, not to push him away—but to steady myself.

To brace for impact.

He didn’t rush. That was the worst part.

He touched me slowly. Possessively. Like I was something expensive he’d just purchased and intended to fully enjoy.

Fingers slid beneath my shirt, pushing it up, grazing my skin. When it cleared over my head and hit the floor, he let out a quiet sound—half approval, half hunger.

“You were made for obedience,” he murmured.

“No,” I said, breath hitching. “I wasn’t.”

He smirked. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Then he kissed me.

God. The man could kiss.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was dominance in motion—his mouth slanting over mine, tongue pushing past my lips, teeth dragging over my bottom lip like he owned it.

I kissed him back with everything I had.

His hand gripped the back of my neck, holding me there. The other skimmed down my chest, fingers spreading wide over my abdomen.

“You’re holding back,” he whispered.

I glared at him. “I’m not one of your playthings.”

He chuckled. “No. You’re better. You fight.”

His palm slid lower, fingers grazing the edge of my waistband. “But I’ll win.”

I grabbed his wrist. “Don’t.”

He froze.

I met his eyes—black and burning—and for a moment, we didn’t move. His breath ghosted against my cheek. His voice dropped, low and sharp.

“When you say no,” he said, “I stop.”

Silence stretched.

Then I let go of his wrist.

He didn’t move.

“You’re still testing me,” he said, watching me.

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe I want to see if you mean what you say.”

He leaned in, mouth brushing mine.

“Test me all you want, Nico. Just know I’ll test you back.”

This time, when his hand slid into my pants, I didn’t stop him.

I let him touch me.

I let him take control.

And somewhere in the mess of sweat and breath and whispered curses, I realized something I didn’t want to admit.

He wasn’t breaking me.

I was letting him.

ARES

He was beautiful like this.

Laid out under me, shirtless, breath ragged, jaw clenched in defiance and desire. His body obeyed even when his mind resisted. His pulse spiked when I bit down on his collarbone. His hips lifted when I palmed him through his pants. His hands fisted the sheets but didn’t push me away.

He wanted this.

He just hated that he did.

I didn’t need words from him.

His body told me everything.

When he came undone, it was with my name gritted between his teeth, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin. I didn’t kiss him after—didn’t offer comfort.

I just watched him.

Watched the way his walls cracked a little more.

And the hunger behind his eyes stayed.

Good.

This was only the beginning.

NICO

I didn’t sleep.

Not because I was ashamed.

But because I was furious.

Furious at him for being so calm after what we’d done.

Furious at myself for needing more.

I left his bed at 4 a.m., dressed in silence, heart hammering.

And just before I stepped out, I looked back at him.

He was already watching me.

Lying there in the dark, one hand under his head, those damn eyes locked on mine like he already knew I’d return.

“Go ahead,” he said softly. “Run.”

I didn’t answer.

I just walked out, closing the door behind me.

But I knew he was right.

I’d be back.