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First Kiss

Author: Ava
last update Last Updated: 2025-01-14 21:51:58

Amara’s POV

A soft warmth fell across my face, pulling me from a deep sleep. Blinking, I opened my eyes, taking in unfamiliar surroundings. It took me a moment to realize where I was. Caden’s room.

My heart skipped a beat as I sat up, memories from the night before flooding back. The forest, the fainting spell, Caden carrying me here, staying by my side…

My eyes landed on him, still sleeping in the chair beside the bed. He looked so different, relaxed in sleep, his features softened in a way I’d never seen before.

The morning sunlight touched his face, casting golden hues over his cheekbones and making his lashes look even darker. I couldn’t help but stare, mesmerized. He was so… beautiful. And vulnerable, like all his usual walls were down.

A strange tug pulled at me, something I couldn’t name. It was as if I could feel his presence in the room, like a heartbeat just beneath the surface. I’d spent years hating him, hating all of them, but right now… I couldn’t deny there was something different. Something I couldn’t ignore.

He stirred, and I snapped my gaze away, my cheeks heating as I realized how closely I’d been watching him. Gently, I slipped off the bed, careful not to wake him. Just as I reached the door, I glanced back, catching one last look at him. A strange ache filled my chest, but I pushed it down and left.

---

After showering and getting ready, I slipped on my usual jeans and sweater, hoping a simple outfit would make me feel more like myself. I wanted to forget last night—the rejection, the curse, and the strange, unexplainable bond that lingered between us. I wanted to push it all away.

Waiting outside for the bus, I hugged my backpack to my chest, forcing myself to take steady breaths. Everything felt different now, as if the air itself was thicker, weighted with unspoken things.

But as soon as I began to feel some semblance of calm, a sleek, black Lamborghini pulled up right in front of me. My heart skipped a beat as I watched the door swing open, and Ryder stepped out, his expression intense, purposeful. He moved toward me with long, deliberate strides, his eyes fixed on mine.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low and firm.

---------

Ryder's POV

She didn’t hesitate when she looked me in the eyes, her voice sharp as a blade. "No, I won't . I hate you, Ryder." she said simply, defiantly. Her gaze was unyielding, fierce even, and I couldn't help the thrill that surged through me. Amara was always fighting me, challenging me—and, damn it, I loved every second of it.

But the way she said it… "I hate you, Ryder." The words cut through me, louder than any curse, sharper than any wound. She hated me—yet here I was, craving her with every bone in my body.

I stepped closer, watching as she instinctively stepped back, her eyes widening, her walls rising. But I wasn’t letting her go that easily. I grabbed her wrist, feeling the slight tremor in her pulse beneath my fingers, and pulled her toward the car, sliding her in beside me.

Once I was seated, I leaned in, taking in the sight of her face, the tension in her jaw as she refused to meet my gaze. "What… what the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her voice filled with both anger and something else—a flicker of something uncertain.

I smirked, my hand moving to click her seatbelt into place, fingers grazing her shoulder, relishing in how her breath hitched just slightly. I drove off, the engine roaring beneath us as I pushed the car faster. Maybe if I drove hard enough, I could drown out her voice in my mind, erase that "I hate you" that kept clawing at me.

But it didn’t work. She was there, next to me, her presence practically setting the air between us on fire. Her words echoed in my mind, challenging me, haunting me. I tightened my grip on the wheel, feeling that familiar heat building inside, twisting me in ways I didn’t fully understand.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I slammed the brakes, the car jerking to a stop, and saw her flinch, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat as she turned to look at me, shock written on her face.

My eyes fell to her lips, full, parted, tempting me with the anger and challenge they held. I knew I shouldn’t, knew this was madness—but something in me snapped. I leaned in, my gaze holding hers for a heartbeat before I closed the distance, crashing my lips against hers.

For a moment, she froze, and I thought she’d pull away, slap me, spit that hatred in my face. But instead, I felt her yield, her body softening against mine, her lips moving in sync with mine. Her hands clutched my jacket, caught between pulling me close and pushing me away, her own inner battle raging as fiercely as mine.

I felt her anger melt into something deeper, something raw and unfiltered, like we were both suspended in this charged, dangerous moment where nothing else mattered.

I deepened the kiss, pulling her closer, my hand sliding to the back of her neck, anchoring her as if she were the only thing grounding me.

She tasted of defiance and fire, every brush of her lips a reminder of all the times she’d fought me, all the words she’d thrown at me. And now, here we were, wrapped up in something we both hated and couldn’t resist.

I could feel her fingers tangle in my hair, hesitant at first, then tightening, pulling me closer as though she were letting herself fall into the same madness that had taken me over. The kiss was rough, unrestrained, each of us pouring everything into it—anger, desire, fear, and that damnable pull between us that neither of us could seem to break.

Finally, I pulled back, breathing heavily, our foreheads pressed together as we tried to steady ourselves, tried to find something to say. But there was nothing. We’d both crossed a line, and we both knew it.

Her gaze was filled with a mixture of fury and something softer, something unspoken. She opened her mouth as though to say something, but the words died on her lips.

"Still hate me?" I murmured, a trace of that smirk slipping back.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she just looked away, her hand still resting on my chest, as if she wasn’t ready to let go… even if she couldn’t admit it.

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