No Denying It.
The second Cassie pinned Damian to them mat, she knew she was in trouble.
Not because she had won—that was the goal, after all.
No.
Because she was straddling his hips.
And his hands were on her waist.
Cassie had every intention of getting up, of keeping this strictly professional, of not thinking about how ridiculously good he looked beneath her—but before she could move, Damian’s grip tightened, fingers pressing just enough to send heat up her spine.
Her breath hitched.
His smirk was slow, sharp, and infuriating.
“Interesting position, Jordan.” His voice was low, teasing.
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “Shut up.”
Then, before she could fully register what was happening, Damian yanked her down—and suddenly, his lips were on hers.
Cassie froze.
The kiss was brief but intense, heat sparking like electricity, his hand holding her waist firmly in place as if daring her to pull away.
And she did. Eventually.
Cassie jerked back, eyes wide, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Damian smirked. Completely unbothered.
Cassie, however, was very bothered.
She scrambled off him, her face on fire, and made a beeline for the bench where her water bottle was. She didn’t look back—she couldn’t. She needed a second.
Or maybe a lifetime.
She grabbed her bottle, unscrewed the cap with way more force than necessary, and took a long drink.
A very long drink.
And then—
She felt him.
Standing directly behind her.
Before she could turn around, his hands were on her waist again, warm and unapologetic, and his breath was suddenly way too close to her ear.
His voice dropped to a murmur, sending goosebumps trailing down her spine.
“Why are you running, Cassiopeia?”
Cassie nearly choked on her water.
Across the room, Natalia whispered something to Stella.
Stella, looking visibly exhausted, pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I hate everything about this.”
Natalia, still smirking, held out a hand. “Double or nothing says they’ll be making out again before the Watchtower trip is over.”
Stella groaned.
Cassie, still frozen under Damian’s touch, was starting to think that maybe—just maybe—denying her feelings had been a terrible idea.