Chapter 7; Dirty Reunion 1.1

Nadia spotted Kai across the terrace the moment she stepped out of the shuttle, and it felt like someone had punched the air out of her lungs.

Two years.

Two full years since he’d walked out mid-sentence, suitcase already in hand, voice flat as he said, “I can’t keep pretending this is enough for me.”

She’d screamed after him until her throat burned, until the door slammed and the hallway echoed with silence.

She’d spent the next twenty-four months rebuilding—new apartment , promotion at the agency, dates with men who were polite and safe and forgettable by morning.

She told herself she was over it.

She told herself she didn’t care.

But seeing him now—leaning against the railing in that stupid white linen shirt, sleeves rolled to show the forearms she used to trace with her tongue, laughing low at something Tom said—made every lie she’d told herself crack open.

He looked good. Too good. Like the last two years had only sharpened him. Hair a little longer, curling at the nape. Jaw harder. Eyes still that deep, dangerous brown that used to make her weak.

She hated how her pulse jumped.

Hated him more.

She turned on her heel, black sundress swishing against her thighs, ready to disappear back to her villa and drink alone until the wedding was over.

Too late.

“Nadia.”

His voice sliced through the chatter, low and certain, the same tone he used to use when he wanted her attention.

She froze. Forced herself to turn slowly. Crossed her arms tight over her chest like armor.

“Kai.” She spat his name like it tasted bad. “Still breathing, I see.”

He pushed off the railing, closed the distance in three easy strides until he was right in front of her—too close, invading her space like he still had the right.

His eyes dragged down her body—slow, deliberate—lingering on the way the sundress clung to her hips, the bare skin of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts.

Like he was cataloging every inch he used to own.

“You came,” he said.

“Not for you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” His mouth curved—just a flicker, not quite a smile. “That dress looks like revenge.”

“Fuck you.”

Tom appeared like a lifeline, all grins and tequila shots, pulling them both into a back-slapping hug before the air could ignite.

“Finally! The gang’s back together!” Tom shoved a shot glass into each of their hands. “To love, to marriage, to not killing each other before the ceremony.”

They drank.

She drank harder.

Salt on her wrist, tequila burning down her throat, lime bitten between her teeth.

Each shot sharpened the hate, made it bright and hot and impossible to ignore.

By the fourth, the terrace lights blurred at the edges. Music pulsed from inside. Couples swayed on the dance floor.

Kai hadn’t left her side.

He didn’t speak much—just watched her, eyes dark, like he was waiting for her to crack.

When the party started thinning, he found her near the torch-lit path that led down to the beach.

“Walk with me,” he said. Not a question.

She laughed—cold, sharp. “Why? So you can leave me standing there again?”

“So we can finish what we started two years ago.”

She should’ve slapped him. Should’ve turned and walked away.

Instead she followed—heels clicking, heart hammering, hate coiling tighter with every step.

The beach was empty. Torchlight flickered far behind them.

They stopped at the water’s edge, sand cool under her bare feet—she’d kicked off her sandals somewhere along the path.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“Save it.”

He grabbed her wrist—firm, not rough. “I fucked up. I know.”

She yanked free so hard her shoulder burned. “You left me like I was nothing. Like three years meant jack shit.”

“You were everything,” he growled, stepping closer until their chests almost touched. “That’s why I ran. I was scared I’d ruin you. That I wasn’t enough. That you’d wake up one day and see it.”

“Too fucking late.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance—low, warning.

She shoved him—hard—palms slamming into his chest. “I hate you.”

He caught her arms, pinned them to her sides in one swift move. “Then why are you still here?”

She stared up at him—breathing hard, chest rising and falling, hate and want twisting together until she couldn’t tell them apart.

She kissed him first.

Angry, biting, punishing.

He groaned into her mouth and shoved her back against the smooth wall still warm from the day’s sun.

He lifted her dress in rough handfuls, exposing her thighs, her hips.

Fingers hooked her lace panties, ripped them aside like they offended him.

Two thick fingers plunged into her, rough, no gentleness, no warning.

“You’re soaked,” he snarled against her neck, teeth grazing her pulse. “Still fucking wet for the man you hate.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” she hissed, nails digging into his shoulders.

He freed his cock—thick, hard, veins standing out—angry and ready.

One brutal thrust buried him to the hilt.

She cried out—sharp mix of pain and pleasure—walls clenching around him like they remembered every inch.

He didn’t let her adjust.

He pounded her against the rock—hard, fast, punishing. Hips snapping forward, cock stretching her wide, slamming that spot that made her vision white.

“Take it,” he growled, voice wrecked. “Take every fucking inch you hate so much.”

She clawed his back through his shirt—nails leaving red trails. Bit his shoulder hard enough to taste salt and skin.

“Harder—fuck me like you mean it, you bastard.”

He did—relentless, deep, balls slapping wet against her with every thrust.

The boulder dug into her back. The waves crashed louder. Thunder rolled closer.

She came first, shattering, walls clamping down like a vice, pulsing around him, soaking his cock and dripping down her thighs.

She screamed his name like a curse—loud, raw, echoing over the water.

He thrust twice more, hard, then buried himself deep, cock throbbing, spilling hot inside her with a guttural groan that sounded like it hurt.

They stayed locked together, panting, shaking, sweat and rain starting to mix on their skin.

Hate still thick in the air, heavy as the storm clouds overhead.

He pulled out slow deliberate, watching his cum drip down her inner thigh, marking her.

She slid down the boulder until her feet hit sand, legs trembling.

“I still hate you,” she whispered, voice hoarse.

“Good,” he said, tucking himself away, eyes never leaving hers. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Lightning cracked overhead—bright, blinding.

Rain started—hard, sudden, sheets of it hammering the sand.

They ran back up the path—clothes soaked in seconds, hearts pounding louder than the thunder.

The wedding planner met them at the villa entrance, hair plastered to her head, clipboard clutched like a shield.

“Nadia, you’re in Villa 7… with Kai.”

Nadia’s stomach dropped like a stone.

Kai’s jaw clenched so tight she heard the grind of his teeth.

One room.

One king bed.

One night.

And the hate between them was nowhere near finished.

Nadia looked at him—rain dripping from his hair, shirt clinging to every muscle, eyes still burning with that same dark fire.

“Fuck it,” she muttered under her breath.

She walked past the planner, straight toward Villa 7.

Kai followed.

The door clicked shut behind them