Amira
I stood there, my body drenched, the rain pouring down relentlessly as Zayn's words echoed in my ears. Every nerve in my body screamed to get away, but I was frozen, caught between my shock and anger.
His question lingered in the air between us—how dare I hug another man?
I loosened my grip on his collar, the shock of his words momentarily disarming me. How dare I? The audacity. Before I could react, I felt the sudden and undeniable heat of his hands on my wrists, pulling me closer to him, his body trapping mine in place. The intensity in his eyes shifted from rage to something darker, more primal.
I struggled to pull my wrists free, but he was too strong. My heart raced as I glared at him, furious. "Let me go, Zayn! You don't get to tell me what to do!"
But he didn't let go. Instead, he stepped back just a few inches, enough to give us both space to breathe but not enough for me to break free. His eyes locked on mine, and for a split second, I saw something vulnerable there—something that made me think he wasn't entirely lost to whatever dark emotions were controlling him.
Then, without warning, he did something that made my stomach twist in disbelief. He guided my hands down, pressing them firmly against the front of his jeans. His arousal was unmistakable, and the moment my hand brushed against him, I gasped, trying to pull away. But he held me there, his voice low and rough.
"This is what you do to me, Amira," he said through gritted teeth. "Every time I see you, every time you're near me, this is what happens. Yet I've controlled myself around you. I've respected your space. But now—" He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Now you go around hugging other men? When you already know you have me?"
My mind reeled at his words, my pulse racing in my ears. I tried to jerk my hand away, but his grip was relentless. The rain soaked through my clothes, making everything feel heavy and cold, but his body was warm—too warm. I could feel the heat of him through the layers of wet fabric, and it only made my panic rise.
"You don't own me," I spat, struggling harder to free myself. "You have no right to—"
My words were cut short as Zayn's hand shifted to my neck, his thumb grazing the edge of my jaw. His fingers were strong, but the touch wasn't violent—it was deliberate, calculated, like he was savoring the moment. Then, without any warning, he kissed me.
It wasn't the gentle kind of kiss I had always imagined. No, this was possessive, forceful, and filled with all the frustration he had been holding back. His lips crashed against mine, and I could taste the rainwater on both of our faces. My heart raced, and I struggled against him, but it was like fighting against a brick wall.
He held my arms behind my back with one hand, pinning me in place, while the other hand gripped my neck, keeping me exactly where he wanted me. I squirmed in his hold, my chest brushing against his with every move I made, and I could feel his body responding—his breathing quickening, his grip tightening.
I tried to say "stop," but the word was swallowed by the kiss, muffled against his lips. My mind was screaming, telling me to fight harder, to break free, but my body was betraying me. Every movement I made only seemed to make things worse. The friction between us—the heat, the closeness—it was overwhelming.
I was trapped, and he knew it.
When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and his eyes were dark with desire. He didn't release me, though. His hand stayed firmly on my neck, his thumb brushing against my wet skin in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. His lips curled into a smirk, but there was something more behind it—something almost dangerous.
"You're mine, Amira, remember that," he said quietly, his voice low and steady. "You can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. I see the way you look at me. I know you feel it, too."
I stared at him, my chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch my breath. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, confusion, fear. But buried deep beneath it all, there was something else—something I refused to acknowledge.
"No," I whispered, my voice trembling.
Zayn's smirk widened, but there was no humor in it. "We'll see."
With that, he finally released me, stepping back just enough to give me space to breathe. My wrists were red from where he had held me, and my neck tingled from the ghost of his touch. The rain continued to fall around us, heavy and relentless, but the world felt eerily still in that moment.
I stood there, stunned, unable to move as Zayn turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the rain. My lips still tingled from the force of his kiss, and my body was shaking—not just from the cold, but from everything that had just happened. I didn't know what to think, what to feel.
Was I scared? Angry? Confused? All of it, and more. My mind couldn't keep up with the flood of emotions crashing over me. But one thing was certain: Zayn had crossed a line tonight. He had taken something that wasn't his to take, and I wasn't going to let him get away with it.
As I watched his figure disappear into the distance, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. My chest was tight with anger, and my mind raced with thoughts of what I would say the next time I saw him. But even as the fury burned in my veins, a small, treacherous part of me couldn't forget the heat of his body against mine, the intensity of his kiss, and the way my own heart had betrayed me in that moment.
I hated myself for it.
When I finally regained the strength to move, I turned and hurried back to the dorm, my clothes heavy with rainwater and my mind swirling with confusion. I didn't stop until I reached my room, slamming the door shut behind me. I leaned against it, my body trembling as I tried to steady my breathing.