Chapter 22

‎From his upstairs bedroom balcony, Ryan watched the scene unfolding below with narrowed eyes. His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of jealousy passing through him as he observed their interaction. The way they smiled at each other, the comfortable closeness, it tugged at something he didn’t quite want to name. But then, he remembered his plan. His lips curved into a sly smirk. With renewed confidence, he turned back into his room, heading toward the couch like a man with a mission.

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‎As Cleo reached the second floor, Thomas made his way back out toward the compound, his steps purposeful but unhurried.

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‎“I’m coming,” Ryan called out from inside the room, his voice calm and measured as he heard the knock on the door. He was still shirtless, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, the well-defined muscles and sharp V-line of his abdomen on full display. There was an ease to the way he moved, almost as if he was entirely unaware of the impact his appearance might have. But he was very aware.

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‎“Eveni—” Cleo began, but her words faltered the moment her eyes landed on him. She froze at the threshold, her greeting caught somewhere between her throat and her thoughts.

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‎There he stood, casually leaning, the soft lighting from the room casting shadows across the sculpted lines of his body. Her eyes instinctively traced the shape of his chest, the hard ridges of his six-pack, the cut of his torso that looked like it had been carved with care. Her breath hitched. She tried to swallow, but even that felt like effort. For a brief second, all she could think about was how it might feel to run her fingers along those lines, but she quickly pushed the thought away, unsure if someone like him would ever see someone like her that way.

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‎“Are you done staring?” Ryan asked, the corners of his lips tugging into a playful, knowing smile. He didn’t miss the effect he was having on her. If anything, it fed his confidence and pushed his plan forward with more certainty.

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‎“I—I’m sorry, sir. I got a little… carried away,” Cleo stammered, embarrassed. She averted her eyes, her cheeks burning as she stepped inside, clutching the bag of medicine a bit too tightly. She moved toward the couch and sat down carefully, placing the bag beside her. Her eyes wandered briefly around the room, marveling at how spacious and tastefully furnished it was. But before she could take in much more, Ryan walked toward her.

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‎“Sorry for the trouble,” he said smoothly, now seated beside her, his tone effortlessly calm. “Thomas isn’t around. He just came back not long ago, right after I called you,” he added with a straight face, lying with practiced ease.

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‎“You’re not bothering me, sir. It’s my pleasure to help,” Cleo replied quickly, trying not to meet his eyes. She could feel the heat rising in her face again, and the closeness between them was almost too much. A part of her feared that if she looked directly at him, she might lose all self-control and do something reckless.

‎"What's wrong?" Ryan asked, his brow furrowing as he noticed her gaze fixated on her legs, her fingers nervously intertwining. He sensed her hesitation, a subtle shift in her demeanor that betrayed her composure.

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‎"Nothing, sir," she murmured, the formality a thin veil over the turbulent emotions swirling within her. If only he knew the extent of his impact, the way his proximity made her breath catch, the unsettling thrill that rippled through her at his mere presence.

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‎He reached out, his right hand gently tilting her chin upwards, his touch sending a shiver through her. Her eyes met his, and he was surprised to see a spark of raw desire reflected there, a hint of vulnerability that ignited something primal within him.

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‎Without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a silent acknowledgment of the connection that had been building between them. She responded, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she leaned into his touch. His hand, which had been gently holding her chin, moved to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin as the kiss deepened, a shared moment of intimacy and unspoken emotion.

‎After what felt like forever, they finally pulled apart, breathless, flushed, and slightly dazed. Cleo kept her gaze locked on his, searching, almost desperately, for any flicker of regret or hesitation in his eyes. But there was none. Instead, she found a glowing warmth and a deep, unspoken intensity that made her heart race even faster.

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‎"You're red," Ryan murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion as he looked at her flushed cheeks. The sight of her like this, vulnerable, beautiful, and real only intensified the desire swirling inside him. It made him hungry to kiss her all over again.

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‎Still catching her breath, Cleo’s brows furrowed slightly as her curiosity took over. "Why did you kiss me?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady. She hadn’t expected it. Not really. And now, the air between them was crackling with something fragile and uncertain. Did he feel the same way she had felt for so long? Or was it just a heat-of-the-moment impulse?

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‎"I didn't mean to be so forward," Ryan said, his voice an uneven blend of apology and excitement. "I just... I couldn’t help myself."

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‎He looked at her, reading her expression, and misread her confusion for rejection. Panic flickered across his face. "I'm sorry," he said patiently, eyes darting between hers. "I thought you wanted it too... I shouldn’t have—"

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‎But before he could finish, Cleo silenced his spiraling thoughts with action. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling onto his lap, straddling him. Her legs braced against either side of his thighs, grounding her in the moment. And then she kissed him, firmly, deeply, with no hesitation.