Not so innocent

The Goodbye That Wasn’t Innocent

The breakfast ended—but the heat didn’t.

Aroha barely touched her plate.

Barely heard the polite goodbyes.

All she could feel was the ghost of his hand on her thigh.

The sun was high now as her family stood at the front of the grand mansion.

Evelyn hugged her gently. Zadkiel’s father nodded with a cold kind of approval.

It was the usual parting between two powerful families pretending this wasn’t a transaction.

Aroha's mother spoke warmly. Her father shook hands.

But Aroha? She stood quietly near the car, heart still misfiring.

And then—that pull.

A sharp tug at her wrist, fast and quiet.

She stumbled slightly as she was yanked around the stone corner of the mansion, behind one of the tall white columns.

“Wha—Zadkiel?” she gasped.

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t give her time to process.

He had her against the cool wall in a breath, not touching anything private—but still ruining her.

His hand traced up her outer thigh, slow and deliberate—

His eyes locked on hers the entire time.

No shame. No words.

Just that calm, terrifying hunger in his stare.

“You didn’t stop me at breakfast,” he said softly, voice like velvet smoke.

“I like that.”

Her mouth opened. No words came out.

His fingers slipped just beneath the hem of her long top—dangerously high now.

And then—

His hand found the waistband of her thong.

Two fingers slid beneath the elastic, tugging it just once—enough to feel her gasp, to watch her face fall apart in shock.

His lips curled into a slow, amused smirk.

> “Lace. Good girl.”

She shook her head, breath shallow. “You’re insane…”

His voice dropped lower. “No. Just possessive.”

And then—he kissed her forehead.

Soft. Slow. Too gentle for the chaos he just caused.

He stepped back like nothing happened.

Straightened his cuffs.

Fixed his watch.

> “Bye for now, little kitten.”

And just like that, he walked away.

Leaving her ruined, flustered, and breathless behind a stone wall…

While her parents waited five feet away.

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The Touch That Won’t Leave

The lights were off in her room.

Curtains pulled. Fan humming gently.

But her chest wouldn’t stop rising too fast.

Aroha lay on her bed—sheets tangled around her legs, breath caught between frustration and need.

She had changed into a thin cotton tee and soft shorts, hair messily tied back.

But none of it helped.

Because he was still there—

In her thoughts.

On her skin.

She clenched her thighs together, her fingers gripping the bedsheet.

Zadkiel.

That name didn’t just live in her mind anymore.

It haunted her.

She cursed him silently.

Called him names under her breath.

> “Stupid manipulative monster…”

But her body—

Her body didn’t listen.

Because her mind replayed it all again:

The rough stone wall behind her.

His breath. His fingers.

The way he tugged the waistband like a threat disguised as affection.

Her thighs squeezed tighter.

She hated the warmth pooling inside her.

“No… no,” she whispered to herself.

But her hand moved anyway.

Sliding up slowly, trembling—trying to recreate what he did.

Just a single finger tracing the path his hand had taken.

Right up her inner thigh...

Her head fell back. Eyes fluttered shut.

And for a second—just a second—

she let herself imagine it was him.

Her breath hitched.

Her skin burned.

But the guilt hit harder.

She yanked her hand back suddenly, like it had betrayed her.

> “What’s wrong with me…” she whispered, covering her face with both palms.

Because no matter how much she hated him—

her body remembered.

And she knew, deep down…

This wasn’t going to stop.

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