Lines That Shouldn't Be Crossed
Naarah barely slept that night.
Peter's words kept replaying in her head.
"So now, you belong to me."
The arrogance of that man. The absolute nerve.
And yet…
Her fingers brushed over her lips as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The way he looked at her, the intensity in his voice—why did it make her feel something she couldn't quite name?
Frustrated, she turned over, burying her face into her pillow.
Forget it, Naarah. You're not his. You don't belong to anyone.
But the problem was, deep down, she wasn't sure if she believed that anymore.
---
The next morning, Naarah walked into her workplace, determined to shake off the lingering effect Peter had on her.
It worked—until she saw him standing in the lobby, waiting for her.
She nearly tripped.
Peter looked unfairly good in a navy-blue suit, the fabric hugging his broad shoulders like it had been tailored by the gods themselves. His cold blue eyes locked onto hers the second she entered.
Her stomach flipped.
She quickly straightened and walked past him. "If you're here to make more ridiculous claims about owning me, don't bother."
Peter fell into step beside her. "That was hardly ridiculous."
She stopped and whirled on him. "Excuse me?"
He smirked. "You're still thinking about it, aren't you?"
Her face heated.
"No," she lied.
His smirk deepened. "Liar."
Naarah scowled. "Why are you here, Peter?"
His amusement faded, replaced by something far more serious.
"Damien is going to make another move on you," he said bluntly.
She stiffened.
"You don't know that."
Peter's gaze darkened. "I do. And when he does, you need to remember something."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what's that?"
His voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper.
"That I am the only man you should be thinking about."
Her breath hitched.
His words wrapped around her like a chain, binding her in place.
The way he said it—so possessive, so certain—it sent an unexpected thrill through her.
Peter leaned in slightly, his scent—clean, rich, undeniably masculine—invading her senses.
Then, his lips quirked up.
"And judging by that look on your face, I'd say you already are."
Naarah snapped out of it.
"God, you are insufferable," she muttered, pushing past him.
Peter chuckled behind her, but didn't follow.
She could still feel his gaze burning into her back as she walked away.
And the worst part?
She was thinking about him.
More than she should.
More than was safe.