Eve took two steps away from the table before she felt it—his presence right behind her.
Fast. Unrelenting.
Before she could react, Damian caught her wrist, his grip firm but not forceful. The heat of his touch sent a shiver up her spine, betraying her.
"Let me go, billionaire." Her voice was steady, but her pulse was anything but.
Damian didn't let go. He stepped in closer, his body nearly brushing against hers, his voice dark and smooth. "You're afraid."
Eve tensed. "Of what?"
"Of this." His other hand lifted to her jaw, tilting her face toward him. His fingers were warm, steady—commanding without caging her in. "Of me."
Eve's breath caught.
Damian's eyes searched hers, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "You can run, Eve. But don't lie to yourself." His thumb brushed against her cheek, sending a rush of heat through her veins. "You want this."
She clenched her jaw, trying to summon the walls she always relied on. But they weren't working-not with him.
Damian leaned in slightly, his breath grazing her skin. "Tell me you don't feel this, and I'll walk away."
Eve's nails dug into her palms. The air between them was thick, electric.
Say it.
Lie.
But she couldn't.
Damian smirked. "That's what I thought."
Then, slowly, he released her wrist, his fingers lingering for just a second before pulling away. "You can leave now."
Eve inhaled sharply, something foreign twisting in her chest.
He was letting her go.
No chase. No demand.
And somehow, that made it even worse.
She turned away quickly, striding toward the exit without another word.
But as she stepped into the cool night air, her hands trembled.
Because for the first time in her life—she wasn't sure if she wanted to run anymore.
A Moment of Weakness
Eve buried herself in work, in distractions, in anything that kept her mind off him.
But it didn't work.
Days passed, yet she still felt the ghost of his touch, the way his voice had curled around her name, the way he had let her go—as if he knew she'd come back.
Damn him.
So when he found her again, she should have been prepared. Should have walked away.
But instead, she let herself be pulled into his orbit just one more time.
It happened in his penthouse. A mistake, she told herself. A trap she knew she shouldn't have walked into.
But here she was.
Damian leaned against the bar, watching her with that same knowing smirk. "You didn't come here to talk, did you?"
Eve clenched her jaw, ignoring the way her skin burned under his gaze. "I came to end this."
His smirk deepened. "You sure about that?"
She was.
Until he took a step forward, slow and deliberate. Until his hands found her waist, pulling her into him with just enough force to make her knees weak.
Eve gasped as her back met the plush couch behind her. Damian's body pressed against hers, his weight, his heat, him.
A battle raged inside her.
She should stop this. Should push him away.
But then his hands skimmed down her sides, teasing, testing, making her ache.
And when his lips brushed her ear, his voice dark and knowing, she broke.
"Let go, Eve."
Her resolve snapped like a frayed thread.
She grabbed his collar, pulling him down to her. Their mouths collided, fire and desperation tangling between them.
She didn't think—didn't hold back.
For once, she let herself feel.
And it was devastating.
But She Pushes Him Away Harder Afterward
The second it was over, reality crashed into her like a tidal wave.
She shoved him off, breathless, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her ears. "This was a mistake."
Damian's eyes darkened, but he didn't move. "No, it wasn't."
Eve's chest heaved. "It was." She forced herself to stand, to run. "This doesn't mean anything."
She turned toward the door, but his voice stopped her cold.
"Keep lying to yourself, Eve." His tone was calm, almost amused. "But we both know you'll come back."
She hated that he was right.
And that terrified her most of all.
No More Running
Eve didn't avoid him.
Not because she didn't want to—but because she couldn't.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. Felt him. The way his hands had gripped her, the way his mouth had owned hers.
She had spent her whole life believing love was a lie, that desire was just another illusion.
But Damian Cross wasn't an illusion.
He was real.
And that scared her more than anything.
When he found her again, there was no smirk this time. No teasing.
Just cold determination.
Eve had barely stepped into her apartment when a familiar voice sent a shiver down her spine.
"You've been running long enough."
She turned sharply, heart pounding. Damian was leaning against her kitchen counter like he belonged there, his gaze unreadable.
"How the hell did you get in here?" she snapped.
He smirked, but there was something dangerous beneath it. "You're asking the wrong question, sweetheart."
Eve swallowed hard. "Then what's the right question?"
Damian stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "Why do you keep running when we both know this"—he gestured between them—"is inevitable?"
Her breath hitched. "I told you, Damian. This doesn't mean anything."
His jaw tightened. "Liar."
Before she could react, he closed the distance between them, his hand gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You felt it," he said, voice rough with something dangerously close to emotion. "Tell me I'm wrong."
Eve's chest rose and fell rapidly.
She couldn't tell him that.
Because he was right.
Damian's fingers brushed against her lips, his eyes dark and unrelenting. "I'm done playing nice, Eve." His voice was a low growl. "You're mine. And I don't let go."
Eve's pulse thundered.
She should push him away. Should fight.
But deep down, she knew.
She had already lost.
Falling Without Fear
Eve had spent her entire life building walls.
Brick by brick, lie by lie—until no one could get close enough to break them.
But Damian had torn through them like they were made of paper.
And she was done pretending.
Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, his hands still cupping her face, his dark eyes burning into hers.
She didn't run.
Didn't fight.
Instead, she reached up and pulled him down to her, her lips crashing against his in a kiss that wasn't just passion—it was surrender.
Damian groaned against her mouth, his arms locking around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He kissed her like he had been waiting for this moment forever—like he knew she was his.
Eve melted into him, her hands threading through his hair, her body pressing against his like it belonged there.
And maybe it did.
Maybe she had always been meant to fall for him.
And now, she was.
Completely.
Irrevocably.
Damian pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his breath uneven. "You're not running this time."
Eve shook her head, her fingers tracing his jaw. "No."
A slow, devastating smile spread across his lips.
"Good."
Then he kissed her again, and this time, there was no hesitation.
No fear.
Just them.
And for the first time in her life, Eve wasn't afraid of falling.
Because she knew Damian would catch her.