As soon as the meeting ended, everyone filed out one by one, leaving only the quiet hum of the room and the lingering papers scattered across the table. I leaned back slightly in my chair, smirking as I watched Karthiel, who stayed seated, fingers lightly tapping on the table, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance—or maybe on me, I couldn't tell.
I tilted my head and leaned forward slightly, brushing my fingers across the edge of the table. "You know," I began casually, "you could at least say I did a good job today. Grandpa was impressed, so I know I did amazing." I giggled, leaning my elbows on the table, chin in my hands.
Karthiel didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't say a word. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, locked onto me, and somehow that silence made my teasing heart race.
I slid my chair closer to him, still grinning. "Are you even listening? Or are you planning on giving me that cold, unbothered look the entire day?" My foot brushed against his leg under the table, teasing, testing.
Still nothing. His eyes pierced me, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch—intense, commanding, and entirely intoxicating.
I couldn't help it. I giggled, leaning closer, whispering, "You know, your gaze is kind of scary… but also… kind of hot." My fingers idly traced the rim of a glass, my eyes darting up to catch his reaction.
Finally, a small movement—a twitch of his lips, almost imperceptible. His hand, just above the table now, tapped once, sharp, deliberate, making my stomach flutter. He didn't say a word, but the tension in the air screamed louder than anything.
I let out a playful sigh, leaning back in my chair with a teasing pout. "Hmpf… you're impossible, Karthiel. Always so serious, so cold… but I know you're paying attention. Admit it."
His eyes never wavered from mine. Slowly, impossibly slowly, he leaned forward, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence so sharp and intimate it made my pulse race. His voice, when it came, was calm, low, and dangerously smooth.
"I'm always paying attention," he said, each word deliberate, heavy, and leaving my heart pounding.
I giggled uncontrollably, leaning closer, brushing my fingers along his arm. "Mmm… then you're being mean, holding all that attention in and not saying anything else."
His gaze softened just slightly—just enough to make me shiver—and he leaned back just enough to regain composure. "You think teasing me will make me lose control?"
I smirked, leaning even closer, teasing him with every move, letting out a little laugh. "Maybe… maybe I want to see what it takes for you to finally react."
Karthiel's lips twitched upward, almost a smile, and the tension between us was electric, unspoken, and intoxicating. He didn't move, didn't speak, yet every sharp glance, every pause, every subtle exhale was a silent acknowledgment that this little game of ours… had only just begun.
I leaned back again, heart racing, unable to hide the grin on my face. "Oh… this is going to be fun," I whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
And he, impossibly composed as ever, let his gaze linger, sharp, intimate, and full of a promise that made my knees weak.
I'd had enough of his silent, sharpening stare. I stood up slow, making sure every move read sexy and deliberate—heels clicking, hips swaying, my fingers trace along the line of his jaw, teasing, running down to the base of his neck. He stayed quite and watching me the whole time, every breath measured, every eye flick a promise.
His hand tightened at my wrist the instant I slid onto his lap, fingers catching my shirt and pulling me flush against him. I curled my hands around his face and started kissing—small, teasing pecks at first, all over his mouth, his jaw, his cheekbones, tasting him like I was mapping him out. He stayed still for a beat, letting me claim him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding just moments ago, softened fractionally, betraying the storm of desire he was keeping in check.
"Mm… you're impossible," he murmured, voice low and rough, but his hands were tight on my waist, pulling me closer and more closer. The cold, untouchable air he usually carried melted under my touch, and I could feel the warmth of his body pressing into mine.
I leaned forward, letting my lips brush against his, just teasing, whispering, "Not until you show me what's beneath all that cold." I nibbled lightly at his lower lip, tugging just enough to make him respond.
His hands slid from my waist to my back, gripping firmly, holding me against him as if he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go.
"Now stop being so cold," I teased, voice low. "Or don't. Keep being that frozen statue… I'll just melt you in the meantime." I smiled, all mischief.
He stared at me and finally let his coldness melt as his mouth covered mine.
Not slow this time. Not gentle. Firm and deep, like a promise and a warning all at once. His hands—cool, exact—went from my hips to the small of my back, hauling me closer until there was nowhere left between us. He kissed me like he'd been storing up every restrained thing he'd never said.
My knees went weak. I threaded my fingers into his hair, tugging, needing. His thumbs traced little circles at my hips beneath my shirt, careful and owning. The world narrowed to the press of his mouth and the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm.
He pulled away just a fraction, forehead against mine, breath hot and slow. His voice was velvet. "You're distracting."
"Good," I breathed, smiling into the curve of his mouth. "I want to be your one and only distraction." I giggled.
His jaw flexed. For the first time in forever, that glacier of composure cracked—just a hair—enough for desire to show. One hand slid to my throat, gentle, possessive; the other found the line of my thigh and squeezed, claiming.
"Be careful," he murmured, lips ghosting mine. "You'll make this very difficult."
"Make it more difficult then," I dared, grinning.
He answered by capturing my lips again, harder in a deep, demanding kiss, as if determined to prove who would give in first.
No hiding now—just heat, control, and raw intensity. His tongue met mine, exploring, claiming, and I responded eagerly, hands threading through his hair, tugging him closer.
Every brush of his lips, every press of his body against mine made my heart race faster. I could feel him shiver just slightly beneath my touch, a small crack in his composed armor. My hands traced down his chest, fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his shirt, feeling the muscles tense under my touch.
He broke the kiss only to whisper against my lips, low and intimate, "You're reckless…"
I giggled breathlessly, pressing my forehead against his. "And you love it…"
His hand slid up my thigh, fingers grazing my skin in a deliberate, teasing way, making me shiver. "Do I?" His voice was husky, controlled yet undeniably wanting.
I leaned closer, pressing every inch of me against him, teasing his lips with soft, lingering kisses again. "Yes… and I'm going to enjoy melting every last bit of that cold heart of yours."
His grip tightened on my waist, pulling me impossibly close, and I could feel the tension between us—a storm of heat, desire, and longing—ready to consume us both.