Miranda's heart pounded as she stared at the glowing words on her phone screen: "Miss me?"
Her pulse was deafening in her ears, her hands trembling as she gripped the device. Damian. His name alone sent a wave of heat through her, her body betraying the mental walls she had worked so hard to build. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be strong, to put the phone down and walk away. But the memory of him was too vivid, too overwhelming.
The way he had touched her, as if her body were a map he was determined to memorize, came rushing back. She could almost feel his fingertips brushing against her skin, igniting every nerve they passed over. His lips, always firm yet yielding, had a way of finding her most sensitive places, making her lose herself completely. She remembered the weight of him, the way his breath would hitch against her neck, the deep sound of his groans as their bodies moved in perfect harmony.
The ache between her thighs grew unbearable as her mind replayed those moments, those stolen hours in his arms where nothing else existed. She wanted to hate him for the hold he had over her, but all she could feel was longing—raw, unfiltered longing.
Miranda placed the phone down on her nightstand, only to pick it up again a moment later. Her fingers hovered over the screen, her internal battle raging. She didn't need him. She didn't need to answer. But the thought of hearing his voice again, of feeling his touch just one more time, was intoxicating.
She sank back into the pillows, her breathing uneven as she gave in to the memories. She thought of the nights they had spent in his bed, the way he would pull her close afterward, his strong arms wrapping around her as though he could shield her from the world. It wasn't just the physical connection—though that was beyond words—it was the way he made her feel seen, as if she were the only woman in the universe.
Her fingers brushed against her collarbone as she imagined his lips there, trailing downward with agonizing slowness. She let out a shaky breath, her body responding to the phantom sensations. She needed him. She needed the fire he ignited in her, the way he made her feel alive.
Miranda sat up abruptly, her resolve hardening. She couldn't keep drowning in memories. If she wanted to feel that way again, to experience that intoxicating high, she would have to take action. She couldn't ignore the way her heart raced when she thought of him, or the way her body yearned for his touch.
She grabbed her phone again, staring at his message. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she debated what to say. Something casual? Something biting? Or should she simply admit the truth? That no matter how much time passed, she couldn't get him out of her head.
But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she put the phone down and rose from the bed, pacing her room as she tried to think. She needed to see him, to feel him again. Even if it was just once more. Even if it meant losing herself all over again.
Miranda went to her closet, pulling out the dress Damian had always loved—a sleek, crimson number that clung to her curves and left just enough to the imagination. She ran her fingers over the fabric, remembering the way his eyes had darkened with desire the first time he saw her in it.
Would he still look at her that way? Would his hands still roam her body with the same urgency, the same hunger? The thought sent a shiver through her, and she knew she couldn't wait any longer.
She turned back to her phone, her heart racing as she typed out her response. Her words were simple, but they carried all the weight of her longing, her need, her surrender.
"Where are you?"
The reply came almost instantly, as though he had been waiting for her.
"Come find me, you know where to."
The message was as cryptic as it was enticing, but Miranda didn't care. Her body thrummed with anticipation, her mind spinning with possibilities. She was already reaching for her coat, slipping into the heels that made her feel as confident and powerful as he always said she was.
As she stepped out into the cool night, her heart pounding in her chest, Miranda knew she was walking straight into the fire. But if that fire was Damian, she would gladly burn.