Confessions
Mikha's breath hitched, her grip tightening around Aiah’s waist. She searched Aiah’s face, as if trying to find a loophole in what she just heard. But there was none. Aiah had said it—clear, firm, undeniable.
"I care about you."
The words hung between them, heavier than the tension they’d built for months.
Mikha swallowed hard. “You’re playing dangerous, Aiah.”
Aiah tilted her head, her smirk unwavering. “And?”
Mikha’s fingers twitched against her waist, her body betraying the restraint in her expression. “And you don’t get to say things like that if you don’t mean them.”
Aiah stepped closer—too close. She felt Mikha’s breath on her lips, saw the flicker of uncertainty in her usually unreadable eyes. “Who says I don’t mean it?”
Mikha sucked in a sharp breath. Her hands flexed against Aiah’s waist, but she didn’t pull away.
Didn’t want to pull away.
But she couldn’t let this happen. Not when Aiah was so infuriatingly good at messing with her head.
She clenched her jaw. “You’re jealous. That’s all this is.”
Aiah’s smirk faltered for a second before she composed herself. “And you’re not?”
Mikha scoffed, but Aiah caught the flicker of hesitation. She pressed on.
“I see the way you look at me, Mikha,” Aiah murmured, her voice a dangerous whisper.
“The way you get so tense when someone else is near me. The way you hate Jeremy just for existing.”
Mikha’s nostrils flared, her fingers digging into Aiah’s sides. “I don’t hate him.”
Aiah leaned in, lips barely brushing Mikha’s ear. “Liar.”
Mikha’s eyes fluttered shut for a second before snapping open, dark and conflicted. “You—”
“Do it,” Aiah interrupted, her voice nothing more than a taunt. “Tell me you don’t care. That I don’t make you this insane. That Denise is just business to you.”
Mikha clenched her fists, her breath coming out unsteady. “You’re impossible.”
Aiah smiled against her skin. “And yet, you can’t walk away.”
Mikha didn’t respond. Because she couldn’t.
And that terrified her more than anything else.
Mikha exhaled sharply, gripping Aiah’s waist like it was the only thing keeping her from losing control.
But she had to regain it. Had to end this madness before it swallowed her whole.
Her voice was low, almost a warning. “You want to talk about jealousy? Fine. Let’s talk about the real problem here.”
Aiah arched a brow, feigning amusement, but her grip on Mikha’s arm said otherwise. “And what’s that?”
Mikha scoffed, shaking her head. “The fact that you’ve been avoiding me ever since La Union.”
Aiah’s entire body went rigid. The playful arrogance in her eyes flickered—barely—but Mikha saw it.
“That’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Mikha snapped, her patience unraveling. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Aiah’s jaw clenched, but she stayed silent.
Mikha wasn’t letting this go. Not this time.
“You got drunk that night, Aiah,” Mikha continued, her tone rough with something dangerously close to hurt. “And you kissed me.”
Aiah’s breath hitched, her nails subtly digging into Mikha’s wrist.
Mikha leaned closer, her voice lower, sharper. “And then you just forgot about it.”
Aiah forced out a laugh, but it was hollow. “I was drunk, Mikha. It didn’t mean anything.”
Mikha’s expression darkened. “Bullshit.”
Aiah’s eyes snapped to hers, startled by the sudden bite in Mikha’s voice.
Mikha’s patience had officially run out.
“You think I didn’t notice?” she pressed, her grip firm on Aiah’s wrist now. “The way you couldn’t even look at me after? The way you ignored my calls, my texts—”
Aiah pulled away, taking a step back as if she needed space to breathe. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”
Mikha let out a dry laugh. “Oh, really? Then what do you call disappearing for weeks?”
Aiah looked away, lips pressing into a thin line.
Mikha inhaled deeply, willing herself to stay composed. “You kissed me, Aiah.”
Silence.
“You kissed me like you meant it,” Mikha continued, her voice softer now, but no less intense. “And then you pretended it never happened.”
Aiah’s fingers curled into fists. “I had to.”
Mikha narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
Aiah swallowed, her throat bobbing, but no words came out.
Mikha took a slow step forward. “Why, Aiah?”
Aiah’s eyes flickered with frustration, conflict, something unreadable. “Because you don’t get to do this to me.”
Mikha froze, her breath catching. “What?”
Aiah’s hands trembled slightly, but she crossed her arms over her chest, like she was trying to keep herself together. “You make me crazy, Mikha.”
Mikha just stared, her heart pounding.
Aiah laughed, but it was strained, bitter. “I’ve spent years controlling everything in my life. Keeping my emotions in check.
But you—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “You make me lose control, and I hate it.”
Mikha was still, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Aiah’s voice wavered. “I kissed you because I wanted to.” She exhaled shakily, finally meeting Mikha’s eyes. “And that scared the hell out of me.”
For the first time tonight, Mikha saw it—the vulnerability Aiah had been desperately trying to hide.
And it broke her.
Aiah’s words hung between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long.
She wanted to be angry. She should be angry. But all she could focus on was the raw, unguarded look in Aiah’s eyes—like she was terrified of her own feelings.
Mikha swallowed hard. “Aiah…”
Aiah shook her head, forcing out a bitter chuckle. “You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice wavered, thick with frustration.
“You’ve always been so sure of yourself, Mikha. You walk into a room, and people just gravitate toward you. Like it’s easy. Like it’s nothing.”
Mikha’s brows furrowed. “Aiah—”
“But it’s not easy for me,” Aiah continued, her voice breaking. “I don’t let people in. I don’t trust people like that. And yet…” She exhaled shakily.
“And yet, you—you—walked right in like you belonged there, like you weren’t afraid of me.”
Mikha took a slow step forward, her chest tightening. “I was never afraid of you, Aiah.”
Aiah let out a dry laugh. “Maybe you should have been.”
Mikha reached for her wrist—gentle but firm. “Why?”
Aiah hesitated, her breath unsteady.
“Because you make me feel things I don’t want to feel.”
Mikha’s grip tightened slightly. “Like what?”
Aiah’s lips parted, but she looked away, biting the inside of her cheek.
Mikha wasn’t letting her go this time. “Say it.”
Aiah’s fingers twitched. “Mikha—”
“Say it, Aiah,” Mikha pressed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aiah squeezed her eyes shut, as if gathering every ounce of courage she had left. And then, finally—
“I love you.”
The words crashed into Mikha like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of her lungs.
Aiah’s voice trembled. “I love you, and I hate that I do.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Because loving you means I can’t be in control.
It means I can’t stop myself from wanting you, from needing you.”
Mikha stared at her, stunned, her heart hammering.
Aiah inhaled sharply. “And it scares me, Mikha. Because what if I’m not enough? What if I mess this up? What if—”
Mikha didn’t let her finish.
She surged forward, cupping Aiah’s face with both hands and crashing their lips together.
Aiah froze for a split second, but then—then—she melted into it, her hands gripping Mikha’s arms like she was holding on for dear life.
It wasn’t just a kiss. It was every suppressed feeling, every stolen glance, every night spent pretending they didn’t want this—didn’t need this.
When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingling, Mikha rested her forehead against Aiah’s. “You think you’re the only one scared?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Aiah, I’ve been in love with you too.”
Aiah’s breath hitched. “Mikha…”
Mikha let out a soft, shaky laugh. “And yeah, maybe you drive me insane. Maybe you piss me off more than anyone ever has. But damn it, Aiah—I’d rather fight with you than love anyone else.”
Aiah let out a choked laugh, tears brimming in her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”
Mikha grinned, wiping a stray tear from Aiah’s cheek. “You love it.”
Aiah sighed, her lips twitching. “I do.”
Mikha cupped her cheek, pressing a softer, lingering kiss to her lips. “Then stop running.”
Aiah exhaled shakily, leaning into her touch. “Only if you promise to stay.”
Mikha smiled against her lips. “Always.”
Aiah didn’t know if she was trembling from the weight of her own emotions or from the way Mikha was holding her—like she was something precious, something irreplaceable.
It was terrifying. It was exhilarating. It was everything.
Mikha let out a breathless chuckle, brushing her thumb over Aiah’s cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”
Aiah swallowed hard, her hands still gripping Mikha’s arms as if letting go would make this moment disappear. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mikha sighed, her forehead still pressed against Aiah’s. “Because you weren’t ready. Because I wasn’t sure if you’d ever let yourself feel this.”
Aiah’s chest ached at that—at the thought of Mikha waiting, at the thought of all the times she had pushed her away, all the times she had convinced herself that what she felt wasn’t real.
But it was. It always was.
Aiah’s fingers tightened on Mikha’s sleeves. “And the kiss?”
Mikha froze.
Aiah pulled back slightly to look at her. “The one in La Union. The night I was drunk.”
Mikha sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment before meeting Aiah’s gaze again. “You remember?”
Aiah bit her lip. “Not all of it. Just flashes.”
Mikha hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “You kissed me first.”
Aiah’s breath caught in her throat.
Mikha gave a small, almost self-deprecating smile. “You were drunk, and I thought you wouldn’t remember, so I didn’t bring it up.
But you kissed me, Aiah. And for a second, I let myself believe it was real.” Her voice wavered. “That we were real.”
Aiah’s heart twisted painfully. She had spent so much time running, so much time convincing herself that what she felt for Mikha was just rivalry, just frustration, just anything but love.
And in doing so, she had hurt her. Over and over again.
Aiah took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
Mikha’s brows furrowed slightly. “For what?”
“For making you wait. For making you doubt,” Aiah whispered. “For being so stupid when it came to you.”
Mikha let out a soft laugh, but there was no bitterness in it—only warmth. “You’ve always been frustrating.”
Aiah rolled her eyes, despite the emotions choking her. “And you’ve always been insufferable.”
Mikha smirked. “Guess we’re even.”
Aiah stared at her for a long moment, then let out a slow, shaky exhale. “I don’t want to fight this anymore, Mikha.”
Mikha’s expression softened. “Then don’t.”
Aiah swallowed the lump in her throat, her fingers sliding down to tangle with Mikha’s. “Just… don’t let me go, okay?”
Mikha squeezed her hand, her gaze steady, unwavering. “Never.”
And this time, when Aiah kissed her, it wasn’t desperate, wasn’t reckless. It was a promise.
Mikha kissed her back with everything she had—with every moment she had held herself back, with every ounce of restraint she had forced upon herself all these time
But now, there was no holding back. No second-guessing. No more pretending.
Aiah sighed into the kiss, her grip on Mikha tightening, as if afraid she’d wake up and this would all be a dream. But it wasn’t. It was real—so real that her heart ached from it.
When they finally pulled away, foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingling in the space between them, Aiah let out a shaky laugh. “So… what now?”
Mikha smirked, but the tenderness in her eyes softened it. “You tell me.”
Aiah bit her lip, her hands still cradling Mikha’s face. “I want this.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “I want you.”
Mikha let out a slow breath, as if those words had unraveled every bit of tension she had been holding.
“Good. Because I don’t think I could ever want anyone else.”
Aiah’s heart clenched at that. How had she not seen it before? How had she been so blind to what had always been right in front of her?
Mikha must’ve sensed her emotions because she cupped Aiah’s face gently. “Hey,” she murmured. “No more regrets, okay?”
Aiah swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, the weight of their confessions still lingering in the air.
Then Mikha chuckled, shaking her head. “You know, for someone who was acting like a jealous lunatic earlier, you sure took your time admitting your feelings.”
Aiah groaned, hiding her face in Mikha’s shoulder. “Don’t remind me.”
Mikha smirked, running her fingers through Aiah’s hair. “I kind of liked it, though.”
Aiah pulled back, narrowing her eyes at her. “Oh, now you liked it? When I was ready to kill Denise just for breathing near me?”
Mikha laughed, and the sound was so light, so free, that it made Aiah’s chest swell with warmth. “You were just proving my point.”
Aiah arched a brow. “Which is?”
Mikha grinned. “You’re even more possessive than I am.”
Aiah rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Shut up.”
Mikha chuckled, brushing a kiss against Aiah’s forehead. “Never.”
///
The car ride to Mikha’s place was thick with tension—charged, electric, almost unbearable.
Neither of them spoke much, but every glance, every brush of fingers was heavy with everything they had finally admitted.
When they reached Mikha’s home, Aiah killed the engine and turned to her, her breath uneven.
“I should go,” she murmured, though she made no move to leave.
Mikha, still gripping the door handle, hesitated before exhaling. “Or you could come inside.”
Aiah’s pulse spiked.
They both knew what this meant.
Mikha didn’t wait for a response. She pushed the door open and stepped out, not looking back—but Aiah was already moving.
She caught up to Mikha just as she unlocked the door, and the second they stepped inside, the tension finally snapped.
Aiah grabbed Mikha by the wrist, spinning her around.
Their lips crashed together in a heated,
desperate kiss, all restraint gone.
Mikha groaned against her mouth, pulling Aiah in by the collar of her blazer, pressing their bodies flush against each other.
The kiss deepened, raw and intense, years of frustration pouring out in each movement.
Aiah pushed Mikha back until she hit the wall, her hands sliding down to grip her waist.
“You don’t get to leave me hanging like that,” Aiah breathed against her lips, voice rough, eyes dark.
Mikha smirked, her own breathing ragged. “Then don’t stop.”
Aiah didn’t.
She kissed her again, harder this time, swallowing Mikha’s soft gasp as their bodies melted into each other.
Hands roamed, fingers dug into fabric, and the air between them burned.
Aiah barely had time to think before Mikha tugged at her blazer, sliding it off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.
Their kisses were deep, frantic, fueled by everything they had held back for far too long.
Aiah pressed Mikha against the wall again, her hands slipping under the hem of her blouse, fingers grazing over warm skin.
Mikha shivered at the touch, her nails raking lightly against Aiah’s back as she pulled her closer—like she wanted nothing more than to disappear into her.
"You're playing with fire," Aiah murmured against Mikha’s lips, voice hoarse, almost a warning.
Mikha’s smirk was breathless, teasing. "Then burn me."
That was all Aiah needed. She slid Mikha’s brassiere off her shoulders in one swift motion, her hands immediately gripping her waist, fingertips pressing into her skin.
Mikha gasped against her mouth, her own
hands working to loosen Aiah’s buttons.
Fabric rustled, soft moans filled the space between them, and soon, layers were slipping away, revealing more, leaving them exposed—not just physically but emotionally, stripped raw in every possible way.
Aiah's lips trailed down Mikha’s jaw, her breath hot against her neck, making Mikha tilt her head back with a sharp inhale.
"You're impossible," Aiah muttered, nipping at her skin just enough to make Mikha tighten her grip on her.
Mikha exhaled a shaky laugh, her fingers threading through Aiah’s hair as she pulled her closer. "And yet, you’re here."
Aiah didn’t answer—not with words.
She kissed her again, harder, deeper, as if she could make up for all the times they had denied this.
Their bodies pressed together, hands mapping out every inch of skin they could reach, urgency and need mixing with something dangerously close to devotion.
Mikha’s back hit the bed as Aiah hovered over her, their breathing ragged, eyes dark with want.
Mikha cupped Aiah’s face, her thumb grazing over her cheek, softer now—but her voice was just as wrecked.
"You’re mine, Aiah."
Aiah’s heart pounded at the words. A claim. A confession.
She leaned in, their lips barely touching as she whispered, "Then prove it."
Mikha didn’t hesitate. She pulled Aiah down to her, their bodies flush against each other, lips meeting again in a kiss that was slow but deep—possessive.
Her hands traced over Aiah’s back, nails dragging just enough to leave a mark, as if she wanted Aiah to remember this moment, to feel her even after the night was over.
Aiah shuddered under the touch, her own hands gripping Mikha’s waist, fingers pressing into bare skin.
She kissed her again, harder this time, until Mikha let out a soft gasp against her lips. "You drive me insane," Aiah muttered, voice thick with frustration and desire.
Mikha smirked, breathless. "Good."
Aiah's response was immediate—she tilted Mikha’s chin up, pressing a lingering kiss to her throat, feeling the way Mikha’s pulse quickened beneath her lips.
Her hands moved down, gripping Mikha’s thighs, pulling her impossibly closer.
Mikha bit her lip, her own hands finding the buttons of Aiah’s shirt, working them open slowly, deliberately.
"I want to see you," she whispered, her voice softer now, filled with something more than just hunger.
Aiah swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She let Mikha slide the fabric off her shoulders, goosebumps rising on her skin as Mikha’s fingers trailed over her bare arms, down her sides, learning every inch of her.
The intensity between them shifted—still charged, still burning, but now laced with something deeper.
Aiah hovered over Mikha, their breaths mingling, their foreheads nearly touching.
She looked into Mikha’s eyes—dark, unreadable, yet filled with something that made her chest tighten.
"I don’t want this to be just tonight," Aiah admitted, barely above a whisper.
Mikha’s fingers tightened around her wrist. "It won’t be."
Aiah searched her face, trying to find any hint of hesitation, any sign that Mikha would take it back—but all she saw was certainty.
Mikha reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Aiah’s ear, her touch impossibly tender. "Stay," she murmured.
Aiah didn’t need to think. She kissed her again, slow, deep, a promise sealed between them.
She was staying.
Aiah’s breath hitched as Mikha’s fingers trailed down her spine, slow and teasing, igniting a fire that burned hotter with every touch.
Their lips met again, desperate now, as if they were trying to consume every ounce of air between them.
Mikha tugged Aiah closer, their bodies molding together effortlessly.
The heat between them was intoxicating, pulling them deeper into a haze of need.
Aiah let out a soft curse when Mikha’s lips moved to her jaw, then lower, ghosting over the sensitive skin of her neck.
She arched into the touch, her hands slipping beneath Mikha’s shirt, fingers skimming over warm skin, feeling the way Mikha shivered under her touch.
Mikha’s breath came out in a shaky sigh, her grip tightening on Aiah’s waist. "You’re driving me crazy," she murmured against Aiah’s skin, her lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her collarbone.
Aiah’s head fell back slightly, her nails digging into Mikha’s back as she whispered, "Good. Then we’re even."
Mikha let out a low chuckle, but it quickly turned into a sharp inhale when Aiah’s hands explored further, her touch firm and knowing.
Their movements became more frantic, clothes slipping off—leaving them off naked.
Aiah took a moment to admire the sight before her—Mikha’s flushed skin, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips slightly swollen from their kisses.
"You’re beautiful," Aiah admitted, her voice raw with emotion.
Mikha’s eyes darkened at the words, her hands gripping Aiah’s face, pulling her into another heated kiss.
"Then show me how much you want me," she challenged, her voice laced with both desire and something deeper.
Aiah didn’t need to be told twice. She leaned in, pressing Mikha into the mattress, their bodies fitting together perfectly, moving in sync as the last of their barriers disappeared.
Her hands then travelled between Mikha's thigh—teasing her entrance. She can feel her how wet and ready she is for her even with a thin fabric covering it.
"Wet already, huh?" Aiah whispered to Mikha's ear, sending a shiver down to Mikha's body.
Mikha's face heated up, "Shut up."
Aiah giggled and skilfully took of the remaining fabric on Mikha's body.
Without a warning she inserted two fingers inside Mikha.
Mikha let out a sharp gasp as she felt it inside, her fingers digging into Aiah’s arms, nails raking over heated skin. "Fuck, Aiah," she whispered, her voice breaking into a moan.
Aiah smirked against her skin, loving the way Mikha trembled beneath her. "You’re so damn sensitive," she murmured, her hands thrusting in and out Mikha's vagina.
"Just keep moaning, hmm? I love it when you moan my name. You'll love this. I promise."
Mikha’s response was a desperate whimper, her back arching as she pulled Aiah impossibly closer. "Fuck. Keep going, please," she breathed, her voice wrecked, needy.
Aiah chuckled darkly. "I'm trying," she admitted, her lips brushing against Mikha’s ear before biting down just enough to make Mikha gasp. "So desperate for me."
Mikha cursed, flipping them over in one swift move, her eyes dark with something dangerously close to obsession. "You have no idea."
With that, Aiah quickened her pace inside Mikha.
Thrusting faster.
Thrusting harder.
Mikha opened her mouth to retort, but it turned into a moan when Aiah’s hit her spot. "Fuck! Shit. Aiah I'm coming!"
Her head is spinning due to the sensation she is feeling. She can't even think straight because of what's happening.
Mikha gasped, fingers gripping Aiah’s back, nails sinking in, dragging.
Aiah groaned at the sting, loving the way Mikha responded to her, how she melted, how she arched into every touch.
She spread Mikha's leg to give off better access as she thrust her fingers rapidly.
"You feel so fucking good," Aiah whispered against her skin, her voice thick with hunger.
With one final thrust, Aiah felt a hot liquid on her hands.
"How was it?" Aiah asked Mikha who clearly not recovered yet.
"Fuck—" Mikha gasped, her hands gripping onto Aiah’s shoulders, nails digging into her skin. "You—you ruined me."
Aiah chuckled darkly, her voice thick with possession. "Good," she whispered, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down Mikha’s throat, her collarbone, marking her. "That’s exactly what I wanted."
"Ahh, wait" Mikha moaned.
"Let me recover, please? And can you pull your fingers out now, I might come again if you moved that one more time." Mikha said, clearly panting.
"Oh, sorry. My baby's still sensitive, huh?" Aiah chuckled.
///
"Recovered already?" Aiah asked.
Mikha looked at her, confusedly. "Why? Don't tell me you want another round. You completely wrecked me!"
"Well, it's not my fault I'm obsessed with you." Aiah replied with a chuckle.
"So? Another roun—"
But before she can continue, Mikha stopped her with a kiss.
Aiah didn’t hold back anymore. She couldn’t. The way Mikha melted under her touch, the way her body responded—it was undoing her, breaking every ounce of restraint she had left.
Mikha’s breath hitched as Aiah’s hands roamed lower, fingers pressing into her skin, possessive, claiming. "Aiah—" Mikha gasped, her voice raw, desperate.
"Say it again," Aiah ordered, her lips brushing against Mikha’s ear before trailing down her jaw, her throat, marking every inch of her.
Mikha’s fingers tangled in Aiah’s hair, tugging her closer, her body arching into her touch. "Aiah—please—"
Aiah growled low in her throat, her grip tightening. "You have no fucking idea how much I'm addicted to this," she admitted, her voice husky, filled with hunger.
Mikha shuddered at the confession, her hands gripping Aiah like she was afraid she’d disappear.
"Then don’t stop," she whispered, her lips barely brushing against Aiah’s. "Don’t you dare stop."
Aiah’s response was immediate—her lips crashing back onto Mikha’s with an urgency that sent them both spiraling.
Their bodies tangled, heat rising between them, their breaths mingling as hands explored, claimed, memorized.
Mikha moaned into the kiss, her body trembling as Aiah pushed her further, deeper into the kind of madness neither of them could pull away from now.
"You’re mine," Aiah murmured against her lips, her voice rough, possessive. "Only mine."
Aiah wasn’t thinking anymore. She was acting—driven by months of tension, frustration, and desire that had finally snapped.
Mikha was beneath her, breathless and wanting, her fingers digging into Aiah’s back like she never wanted to let go.
"You're fucking dangerous," Mikha gasped, her head tilting back as Aiah’s lips dragged across her throat, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.
Aiah smirked against her skin. "And you're fucking mine."
Mikha shuddered at the possessiveness in her voice. She could feel the heat rolling off Aiah, her body pressing her down, making her feel trapped, claimed, consumed.
"Aiah—" Mikha tried to say something, but Aiah silenced her with another kiss, deep and desperate, swallowing every sound that escaped her lips.
Her hands moved lower, tracing every curve, every dip of Mikha’s body like she was memorizing her by touch alone. The way Mikha reacted—whimpering, arching, pulling her closer—was driving Aiah insane.
Mikha gasped as Aiah’s hand between her thighs again, her breath coming in sharp, ragged pants. "Fuck—"
Aiah grinned, her lips brushing against Mikha’s ear. "What’s wrong, baby? Can’t handle me?"
Mikha let out a broken moan, nails raking down Aiah’s back. "Just shut up and kiss me."
But Aiah did more than that. She made damn sure Mikha wouldn’t forget this night.
The world outside blurred into nothing—all that mattered was this moment, the way they unraveled each other, the way their breaths mingled as they lost themselves completely.
Tonight, there was no rivalry, no past, no hesitation.
Only them.