Hi, glad to see you coming back little reader 😁 I just wanted to clarify for those who may have misunderstood: the decree is from 2030, but the story takes place 65 years later. We are in the year 2095. Now I let you enjoy the story... 😉

Wow! It's so hot! Nate lets out a breath, wiping the sweat pearling off his forehead and shirtless chest with a white towel. 

It's been a tough training; it's been a good training.

His whole body still buzzing with the burn and his mind completely empty are proof of it as he gulps down half of his bottle of water. Now, his sore muscles are yearning for only one thing: a warm shower, and that's where he's heading when he walks out of the gym room, his steps echoing in the empty hallway.

At this hour, there aren't many people left in the building. Most are already on their way home, while the night crew hasn't arrived yet, and only a few of his colleagues are still working out to gain more techniques and muscles, or just to sweat off everything haunting them. It results in a peaceful and almost eerie quietness around that Nate relishes as he hears the beats of his heart finally steadying, at least until a faint thud comes to disrupt the harmony when he reaches the room at the end of the hallway.

His eyes immediately scan the whole space, finding nothing, no sign of life, no other sound, from the row of lockers to the benches on the opposite side, and he almost overlooks the door in the middle before his gaze stops on the small inscription: 'hammam'.

Another thump is heard, this time, in his chest, and he finds himself rushing towards the door, propelled by a cold shiver arising in his guts. The want for a warm shower is long gone, and indeed, that's not what he gets when he steps into the steam room, and his blood freezes like bathed in deadly ice.

He's known this has been going to happen one day or another, considering since how long this cabin has been out of order, but he's hoped it would not harm anyone. Unfortunately from what he can see through the blurred glass, this is not the case. There is a petite silhouette in the steamy cloud.

He doesn't think twice at this sight. Following his well-trained soldier instincts, he unplugs the monitor and dashes to the door, pushing it open with his broad shoulder, just in time to catch the tiny silhouette falling through a cloud of steam.

She's unconscious; this fact hits him more than the scorching puffs from the cabin, and goosebumps are even running all over his skin when he feels her figure so feverishly hot, so frail and so light that he's afraid to break her, and his trained muscles are almost trembling. That's surely the reason why he carries her delicately in his arms as if she was made of porcelain, the sound of her labored breathing reminding him she's even more fragile, and his own breath is taken away when he looks more closely at the young woman.

There's something so pure and dainty in her features, and not even the sweat damping her whole body from her messed ponytail to the sticky fabric of her pants can blur it, although it clouds his thoughts with a boiling wrath to see her in this state.

His mind which has been so relaxed is now filling with many curse words at whoever has let this happen. Yet it's no time to plan for someone's death when the young woman needs him.

So he sets her down carefully on a soft bench, and he grabs the bottle he's dropped on the floor to splatter some water on her crimson red face, kneeling in front of her to watch her eyes fluttering open.

"Am I in heaven?" Anastasia whispers hoarsely, her thoughts rolling out of her dry lips mindlessly.

All she remembers is that it has all gone black for a second, and now, the dark dots are giving way to a man in front of her with... the face of an angel and the body of a god.

Upon her words, the thought that she's an angel fallen from heaven crosses Nate's mind for a second, and the white of her clothes and the purity in her eyes are actually allowing a lingering doubt before he brushes it off with a chuckle.

"No, you're still on Earth. But are you okay?" He reaches out his hand, yet his fingers are stopping before touching her, as if he was afraid she would disappear.

"Yeah..." she breathes out, trying to sit up and find back her bearings in spite of the dizziness, or more exactly, the thick steam blurring her thoughts. "But... I'm still burning..."

It is the only thing clear in her mind: the distressing blaze inside her lungs and her whole body that the fresh air never seems to reach, no matter how many deep breaths she is taking. Her eyes are searching for something else to distract herself from the sensations, but even these movements are making her head spin, and she can't look farther than the man kneeling in front of her... his hand... the ring on his ring finger... and black dots are appearing again.

Nate's eyesight is narrowing to the young woman's gaze as she's losing focus, and an almost panicked worry strikes him who is usually so calm and used to emergency situations. The more he sees her still struggling to breathe, the less the air is reaching his own lungs, and when she starts reeling again, his body reacts instantly, reaching for the first thing stifling her lungs: the thick white fabric of her blouse.

He tears it open in less than a split-second, and when the information processes to his brain, a piece of lace is already peeking from under her half-open shirt. Yet if his movements are slowing down, it is mostly to bring carefully the bottle to her lips, making sure to give her every remaining drop of water, even if he would maybe need some too.

Now that he is closer to her, he notices her red and dry plump lips making his own mouth parched, and he gets captivated by the infinite warm reflections in her eyes as she is fixing him attentively through every gulp she takes. He can glimpse green, golden, brown, and specks of a unique color, but she pulls him out of his daze before he can name it. 

She's already finished, and the water seems to have worked as she's wiggling around, trying to stand up.

"Wait a minute. Don't move," he tells her gently when her frail legs are about to give out, and he rushes outside the room, urging her with one last glance to stay here.

She takes this time to recover her senses, as she is suddenly a little less hot and breathing becomes progressively easier.

Though the breath she lets out when she sees him coming back is still shaky.

With her head clearer, she realizes what has happened, what could have happened if this mysterious hero hadn't come in just in time, and it isn't the only thing clearer. Her view is adjusting to take in her savior, and she remarks every single muscle of his toned chest, the ropes of tautness moving with each of his steps closer to her, and the light sheen of sweat attracting her eyes to follow all these lines and edges.

He indeed has the body of a Greek god, and her breath is knocked out again when he sits close in front of her, his brown eyes observing her full of concern.

"Here... to cool you off."

She takes the bottle of water and the ice pack he is holding out for her, her gaze barely giving a second glance to the much-needed freshness in her hands as she is hypnotized by the dark chocolate shades burning through her.

She swears she has never seen eyes like these, and although usually, she doesn't pay much attention to people's eyes, these ones are catching her.

Like in a daze, she brings the ice pack to her chest, the part of her body that is still flaming with a sparkling warmth, and she grips the pack so tightly with her shaky hands that it bursts, the ice cubes running down her skin and making her gasp.

Nate quickly comes to her rescue, catching the ice cube on the edge of her half-open cleavage. That's where he should withdraw, the small silver scales hanging from a chain just above even pointing him to ponder and stay fair. Yet his fingers have already taken their decision, and before he realizes, he's sliding the cube on her red skin, creating a trail of goosebumps on his way.

She has to bite back a moan at the sting of coldness, and mostly, the fire it lights up inside that she hasn't known could exist. All her nerve endings are awakening with the contrast, or maybe they are stirred back to life for the first time.

Overwhelmed by all these sensations, she watches carefully the chocolate shades darkening in his eyes as they are focused on the task of his fingers, and she is melting faster than the ice on her hot skin.

Once he has climbed one side of her cleavage, he slides down the ice cub along the other side, following the way her necklace seems to be pointing as the cold is deliciously burning her skin, and when a drop of melted ice runs under the fabric to her breast, she can't help the shaky breath escaping her parted lips, neither the shiver of desire running down her spine.

What they are doing is harmless. He is just trying to help her cool off, she tries to reason, though she knows these shudders are straying too far to be innocent, and when he finishes his torturous trail at the bottom of her cleavage, they are wandering even farther, along with the loud thumps of her heart, in anticipation of what he is going to do next.

His heart is echoing the same wild pace with the same question, his lost eyes meeting her hazel ones, where he feels like the shades of brown, gold, and green could give him the answer, and maybe also answers to questions that have never been asked. 

A strand of wet hair is shadowing the mystical view of her eyes, so one of his hands – which seem to still have a mind of their own – automatically goes to push it away, while the other stays at the edge of the forbidden territory of her cleavage, the ice melting rapidly between their burning skins.

The moment they finally touch with nothing in the way, no rough fabric, no melting ice, just the feather-like contact of their skins, time stops, the air falling into an electric thickness as sparks are rushing and flying everywhere along their skins.

Taken aback by this unknown sensation, he withdraws his hand faster than if he'd been stricken by an electroshock.

But for the same reason, Anastasia grabs his hand and brings it back against her cheek, the sparkling impulses shutting off any rational thought in her dizzy mind. 

All she does is feel, feel the brush of his rugged fingerpad, the darkness engulfing his irises, the steamy air filled with an intoxicating scent that must be his as he appears closer than before, and the deafening hammer in her chest, and when his tongue comes out to wet slowly his plump lips, one sensation surfaces stronger than any other: the need to taste these lips. 

It becomes overwhelming and irresistible, almost magnetic as it pulls on every fiber of her being until she is leaning forward, and as he is drawn by the same force, they meet halfway, closing the gap between their mouths.

For an instant, they just stay like that, unmoving, taking in this mere contact like a suspended second in zero-gravity, and then, they start to move so slowly and delicately against each other. He could indeed come from heaven, though his lips become more wicked and sinful as the kiss intensifies. 

Is this even a kiss? Or it is an out-of-this-world experience? She wonders as the softness and hunger of his lips are mixing with hers, just like their tastes: sweet, bitter, coffee, mint, fruity, a pinch of salty, and even flames all dancing in a crescendo of pleasure and desire.

In this whirlwind, he brings her even closer, pulling her on his lap, and his hands, once shy and hesitant, are now possessive and reckless, yet still with a gentleness that makes her melt under their pads.

Actually, she is catching fire with all the sparks spreading from her lips to the rest of her body, but she can't stop. She is thirsty for even more, seeking and fueling the burn as their lips crash together and their hungry tongues join in, savoring and swirling with each sensation in this suspended moment.

A moment that ends too soon for her liking. 

Time resumes to its normal speed as soon as their mouths break away from each other. Her brain turns back on again, jostling her thoughts back and forth with the realization of what has just happened, while they are both immobile, staring at each other.

Only their ragged breaths are resonating in the silence, although in their heads, it's the cacophony.

He tries to make sense of all of this, but he can't. How can a kiss make him feel more than he's ever felt in his life? 

His heartbeat resonating in his head makes it impossible to think coherently, and when she moves slightly on him, all his rushing thoughts stop abruptly, leaving him with only his hard desire from the light touch and a rush that makes his hands grip her tighter.

Her reason is telling her to run away, but he is keeping her firmly close. She could pull away if she tried a little harder, does she really want to, though? The steamy look in his dark eyes is clouding her thoughts once again.

Just one more taste. This thirst or hunger – she doesn't know exactly – is screaming at her. One little taste and then she withdraws. She tries to keep her rationality as she slowly leans in and surrenders to this irresistible lust, kissing him passionately to satisfy her thirst and relish his lips at the same time... Just once more...

He immediately returns the same ardor, not wasting any time with his lips, his tongue, or his mouth, nor with second thought when they pull apart, and still not satisfied, his lips go to taste the tender skin right below her jaw.

More... More... Although she is suffocating under the feverish trail of his mouth, her body is begging hungrily, and she doesn't know precisely what 'more' she needs, but she knows it is something about this stranger, mix of a sinful angel and a devious god. She is arching closer, her burning skin needing more contact with his warm body, and God, she feels it; the hard bulge against her center makes her gasp a moan at this new sensation, so many new and unknown sensations...

Her hands get lost in his wet curls when his lips pay special attention to the untouched spot underneath her left ear, though his hands aren't outdone either, exploring adoringly every inch of exposed skin and lighting fire on their race.

If she has thought she has been searing moments before, when she has almost died in the cabin, it has been nothing compared to what is consuming her right now. Yet this blaze is making her feel more alive than ever.

Her helpless moans are driving him crazy. He should stop. But earning the soft sounds escaping her lips seems to become his new mission, and the sweet saltiness on her skin is awakening a ravenous hunger he hasn't known he could have in him.

Her blouse is thrown away somewhere on the floor as his mouth continues his exploration of new flavors, trying to fulfill his craving down her neck, the edges of her collar bone, all along her slender arm...

His lips are halted in their course when he reaches her delicate hand, and the simple sight of her naked ring finger makes his heart jump against his ribcage, hundreds of questions and warnings appearing with the crash. He's left stunned in front of the smooth white skin, where her innocent purity is reflecting his own commitment and his breaches to it. He should stop–

He can't stop like this. Everything is rushing inside Anastasia's chest too, yet not for the same reason. She is panting, throbbing, aching for him. She can't breathe. She needs more; she needs him. Her blazing lust is almost striking her with panic as she sees the battle in his dark eyes focused on her ring finger, his ragged breaths tickling her pads.

"Are you a virg–" 

She silences him by sliding her ring finger in his mouth, holding intensely his gaze. For the first time, she isn't thinking with her brain, and she has never been so sure in her whole life.

There is no turning back as she acknowledges and offers her purity in a nod.

And he takes it all, sucking slowly and lustily her thin finger. She may offer herself to him, but she is stealing all of him at this instant. All the doubts and alarms evaporate. All he can see, all he can think about, all he can feel is her, this sweet angel fallen from heaven to burn him to hell.

He wants to make her feel everything she's never felt, make this unforgettable for her as he is forgetting all the rules for her.

So he lifts her up in his arms, and together they're crossing the line, breaking it, burning it as he slowly lays her down on the floor, and she shudders at the contact of the cold tile against her flaming skin, and even more at the heat radiating from his body closer and closer.

His body... If she wasn't invaded by all these fierce and sinful sensations, she could believe she has reached heaven, and as if to make sure she isn't dreaming, it's her turn to explore every inch of his mystical body, her eyes then her fingers following. 

Every little detail that should remind her to stop only leads her further: his wild and wet brown hair, the sharp angles of his jaw, his experienced hands, his taken finger, the flexed muscles of his toned chest and arms, the lines pointing the way lower, the thin fabric of his sweatpants letting guess easily the destination.

Her heart skips a beat in apprehension and excitement, and like searching for her direction, she instinctively looks up to find back his penetrating gaze focused intently on her. The desire dancing in the tenebrous colors there is more captivating than flames, and when she feels the coldness of his ring and his sinful fingers against the blazing untouched territory of her center, she surrenders to this fire.

***

Anastasia shivers in the cold night air, her skin still burning from everything that has just happened, and her hazy mind is too, as she is trying to comprehend all of this, yet she can't.

There is always an occurrence, a reason, and a consequence for everything, but what has just happened has felt like billions of occurrences, with no reason, and so many possible serious consequences.

What she has done is against all of her principles. She has broken the law. Yet if she could go back in time, would she stop it? How can something so wrong feel so right? 

Another shiver runs down her spine, though this time, it is a reminiscence of those she has felt moments ago, and she could easily get lost in the memory... soft and sinful lips, dark, tenebrous eyes, godly muscles–

"Hi, mon ange! How was your first day?"

She is pulled out of her dangerous deviant thoughts by her mom's cheerful voice, her wide eyes glancing around to find the familiar surroundings of her home's entrance. How has she already arrived home? It is another question she will never have an answer to.

"There is a letter for yo– Oh my god! What happened to you? Are you okay?" her mom gasps, her green eyes filling with concern as soon as she catches sight of her daughter's red flustered face and her messy wet hair.

Anastasia freezes on spot. The fear that what she has just done might be written all over her face is striking her, and suddenly, her skin isn't hot anymore; it is sweaty cold. 

For the first time in her life, she can imagine what people feel on the other side of a courtroom bar, and she quickly tries to gulp the bad feeling coming with it.

Instead, she forces a reassuring smile as inside, her stomach is knotting with guilt, and her brain is twisting to find an answer. "Oui... I just had a little incident with the steam room... I got stuck in there while it was on, but I'm fine."

It is plausible. It is part of the truth, and her mom seems to buy it, nodding with a horrified and concerned expression.

After all, Anastasia has always been a perfect daughter, a perfect girl, a perfect woman, and a perfect citizen. No one would expect that from her. Her mom wouldn't believe it. Even Anastasia herself would never have imagined this morning that she would break the law, and this is unsettling her to the point that she can barely breathe.

"Are you sure? Maybe you should go see a doctor? What are these red marks on your neck?"

The little rest of Anastasia's breath is knocked out of her chest as flashbacks of sinful lips and teeth marking her skin come back to her mind, and her eyes widen more and more when her mom tries to look more closely at her now sweaty skin.

"Um... it must be a heat reaction, don't worry." The blood rushes to her cheeks faster than it has left them, and she carefully avoids her mom's concerned stare, which is worsening the trouble and guilt she is battling inside. "Didn't you speak about a letter?"

"Oh, right! The letter!" A smile loosens her mom's worried features, but Anastasia doesn't even get to breathe a sigh of relief. "You've got a letter from the Matchmaker service! There are wedding bells in the offing!" Her smile extends into an excited grin, while this time, Anastasia really feels all the blood draining from her face.

It looks like the universe is playing tricks on her, and the grave consequences may appear quicker than she has thought.

So what do you think of this steamy encounter? ;) I hope you liked it! If so vote and comment! 

But it was a forbidden encounter too, so what do you think will happen next? 

And your thoughts on Nate, the knight in shining armor, or more like shirtless hero? ;)

Let me know what you think in the comments and add this book to your library/reading list to get notifs when I update new chapters :)