Page 129 of The Bittersweet Bond

He smirked—that dirty smirk she hated, the one that made her pulse stutter anyway. “You want this as much as I do.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. The night air swirled around them, cold against her skin, but all she felt was him. The heat radiating from his body. The way he held her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The car door swung open, and before she could protest, he lowered her into the passenger seat, leaning in, his arms caging her in.

“I’m done trying to find the right words,” he murmured, voice edged with frustration, desire. “Maybe we don’t need words right now.”

Her breath hitched. “Then what do we need?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze roamed over her face—searching, tracing every unspoken thought—before he leaned in, closing the space between them. The first kiss was rough, demanding, almost defiant. A battle, not a surrender. Like he was trying to convince her of something neither of them could put into words.

Evin felt her hands move on their own, threading into his hair, pulling him closer as she melted deeper into the seat. His hands slid over her sides, firm, warm, and she lost whatever fight she thought she had left in her.

“You’re an idiot,” she murmured against his lips, breathless, fingers tangling in his hair.

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his lips trailing along her jaw, voice husky and almost desperate.

It didn’t matter that they were a mess. That nothing between them made sense. Because right now, in this moment—It didn’t have to.

___________

Sebastian

But it didn’t last long. Bas pulled away, shut the car door behind him, and strode around to the driver’s side. Sliding into his seat, he caught her questioning look and raised a brow.

“I’m driving you home, Birdie.”

She frowned, but didn’t argue.

It was late. She had training in the morning. No matter how badly he wanted her right now, she’d asked for time. So he’d give it to her. Time and space—his least favorite things. But necessary.

As he shifted into reverse, he reached over and casually switched on the seat heater for her. She didn’t acknowledge it, just kept watching him like she was waiting for something.

“Alright,” she said finally, arms crossed. “Let’s hear it.”

Bas sighed. “I want you to understand what happened with Cat.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, now you want to talk?”

That fire—still there. He forced himself to stay focused.

“You know Cat and I… we had a thing, off and on,” he started, keeping his grip on the wheel firm. “But it was never serious. Never exclusive. No feelings.”

She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah? Someone should tell her that.”

He clenched his jaw but kept his voice steady. “I know how it looked. And yeah, I was a fucking idiot for answering. But it wasn’t anything. She doesn’t mean anything.” His fingers tightened around the wheel. “Not like you do.”

Silence.

Then—Evin tilted her head, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle. “Then why did you even pick up?”

Bas exhaled, his grip tightening on the wheel. “Because I thought something had happened. It was the middle of the night… and because I was dumb enough to think ending it once and for all, right there in the club, was a good idea.”

Evin was silent for a beat before arching a brow. “So you thought handling that, in a packed bar, with me standing right next to you, was the right move?”

Bas winced. “Yeah. Not my finest moment.”

She studied him, eyes sharp and assessing. Then, with a quiet sigh, she turned toward the window.

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