9.30 a.m., Anastasia looks anxiously at her watch. She is almost two hours early. 

She has just dropped Archie at his selections, and she has come directly at the Army Center. It avoids a detour, and she can find a quiet corner to study. Though it is clearly not the main reason. 

If she had stayed home, she would only have more time and space to worry. Here, there is as much, but maybe she can find a second to glimpse Nathaniel or catch an ounce of reassurance hearing about him because she still has no answer to her texts and calls.

She knows that the fire has got contained early in the morning according to the news. So Nathaniel should come back to the center, unless he has gone back home. But then why hasn't he answered her texts and calls? Sure they have agreed to stay away, yet this is a case of emergency, an exception, and she is worried to death. It doesn't resemble him; she is sure he would respond to her anxious calls to reassure her. So why hasn't he? 

She can't even think of the reason, though the speculation flashes in her mind, and she can almost taste the smoke on her dry tongue, the forebodings suffocating her lungs.

She shakes her head, trying to dissipate them. She has to stop thinking; her fear is of no use, and she will become crazy if she continues this way. 

So she grabs her book of civil law from her heavy bag, nervously fiddling with it while she is still walking. She hasn't even arrived at the locker room, but she needs to occupy her hands and mind. For her mind, studying will be the best, at least trying to.

She doesn't have classes today, since the university is closed following yesterday's tragic events. It is the only thing that seems to have stopped at the shocking incident, besides her brain of course, because apparently, some students from her college have been at this interschool event.

Her heart breaks at this thought, and inside her already tight chest, it quickly fires up revolt and disgust. She really needs to stop this endless spiral from her brain to her chest.

Actually, it stops faster than she would have hoped, this time, from her heart to her head, and even time seems to stop, her law book falling on the floor with a thud, when she glimpses a well-known figure on the other side of the hallway. 

Their gazes meet, and she breathes again. He is alive. He is fine. He is standing before her eyes. Is she dreaming? The loud bangs of her heart are too real for a dream, spreading relief throughout her whole body from her lips, where a grin is tickling her, the first real one in three days, to her legs as she runs the few feet separating her from him and throws her arms around his neck without thinking.

"Nathaniel!"

Nate freezes in her soft arms, although his skin is burning everywhere her body is brushing his, and inside, his heart is jumping all over the place. It's the cold reality around that is paralyzing him as they're in the middle of the hallways, with people around, and he immediately reacts, opening the first door next to him and pulling her with him.

There, as soon as the door is closed, his arms find her tiny waist. 

The people he's spotted have had their backs to them, so there are not many chances that they've seen them. He allows himself to stop thinking and get lost in her embrace.

"Nathaniel! Oh mon dieu! Tu es vivant! I was so worried!" She pulls away to check him, her gaze, her breathless gasps, and even her heart being all over the place.

The details of his tired appearance come to her view one after the other between her frantic words: his soft brown eyes surrounded by dark circles under. He has been up all night.

"You didn't answer my texts?"

Then, there are his messed curls, his drawn features with his one-day stubble, the deep smell of smoke emanating from him, his dark gray uniform darkened with soot stains and even ripped. He has been in the fire.

"Are you okay?"

Her gaze falls on the bandage on his left arms, and then to the deep red stain on his uniform around. He has got hurt. Her ribcage shrinks back to its initial constricted state, maybe even tighter than minutes ago.

"Oh mon dieu! You've got hurt–"

"No, no! It's nothing, don't worry!" he cuts her off.

She is cute when she is rambling, yet he can't stand the cracks in her voice blurring the melodious sound of her accent. "It's just a scratch from a falling girder. I'm fine."

He doesn't tell her how he's got stuck in the fire because of those fallen girders, and if it hadn't been for Darrell and his colleagues coming just in time to clear out the doorway, he wouldn't be here right now. 

Seeing her tired and tense features, he doesn't want to add more shadows in the warm hazel of her eyes. Has she been preoccupied with him? Has she thought about him?

She, for sure, has been in his thoughts. When he's been trapped in the burning room, she's been the only one on his mind; how he's wanted to see her soft eyes again, that's what made him hold on as he's been crawling for oxygen in the smoke. And now, she is in front of him, in his arms, like a breath of fresh air.

"I dropped my phone there and it broke. I'm sorry I didn't answer."

Just the thought of worrying her is searing him more than any fire. She has enough problems always on her mind. He would never not respond to her texts, and as her frown doesn't loosen, he moves his left arm to prove her he is perfectly fine –at least, now he is.

"You're sure you're fine?" she asks, almost winded, and she runs her hands from his arms to his jaw, as if palpating if he is really fine and grasping that he is really there.

"I'm fine." He keeps his gaze unwavering from hers as he grabs her face with his left hand, trying to calm down her frantic concern, and it appears to be a mission harder than putting out the unquenchable fire in front of her trembling movements.

"You're here," she lets out in a sigh, finally relaxing under the faint brush of his thumb.

But she takes him aback when she crashes her lips on his.

In his sleepless state, he has to blink a few times to comprehend it is real, and then, he returns passionately the kiss, pulling her closer in his arms. She is taking his breath away one more time, and damn, he is glad to be alive just to feel those plump lips again.

The kiss is raw and intense like all the emotions they've experienced in the last few days, and it's what is leading him, along with the craving for her taste, when he traces her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before slipping in.

He tastes like coffee and peppermint, probably the only things he has eaten since yesterday, yet the bitter taste feels so sweet on her tongue. She doesn't even mind the cold smoke smell. All her senses are focused on him and only him, so close again, his tongue swirling with hers, his curls, his neck, and any part of him she can touch and grasp desperately, as she has missed him so much.

Her chest is expanding with every loud beat of her heart, and she is breathless, but she doesn't want to pull away from him. She wants more, and the kiss grows more heated and hungry with teeth grazing, clashing lips, and battling tongues. 

Their mouths are parting only to collide harder, and there is not a second of hesitation, no second thoughts. They are both driven by something deep inside.

His hands sneak under her sweater with this determination, roaming all over her skin and setting her on fire, and she can't comprehend anything. Her head is spinning with the touch of his ravenous, cracked lips on her swollen ones and his large hands on the small of her back. So she lets him guide her completely as he turns them around, and she finds herself pressed between the cold metallic door and his burning body, the contrast creating goosebumps all over her skin and even inside her bones.

He is pushing against her, his possessive hands bringing her closer, and she gladly collides her chest with his. As their lips are still glued to each other, they are almost forming one – almost, it still isn't close enough, and she knows they will form one. There is no doubt; they both need it.

All the tension that has crushed her in the past days has got unleashed the moment their lips have touched, but another pressure is growing in her core as he grinds his hips against her sensitive center. Through the rough fabric of their clothes, she can feel he needs her just as much – and he seems more than fine.

She lets out a low, frustrated moan at the too many barriers still standing between them, and when she tugs at the hem of his jacket, he doesn't need more hint to take it off along with his shirt.

His mouth finds hers again almost instantly, and the pleased sigh she breathes out is sucked through his lips like oxygen as her fingers explore his taut chest. 

He can feel the life and the blood rushing under her smooth fingerpads, though her touch is far from delicate. She's grasping and grazing every inch of skin from his back to his torso, creating flames bigger than the fire he has had to extinguish in the past hours, and he might burn down to hell, but he needs more.

She has obsessed all his thoughts since they've agreed to not see each other ever again, and even the emergency mission hasn't managed to distract him, so now, having her before his eyes, and under his hands and lips, he can't control his insatiable hunger for her. 

He impatiently strips her of her wooly sweater, and his hypoglycemic legs almost give out at the sight he's been craving for. Surely looking like an addict, he latches his mouth on the sweet skin of her cleavage, breathing in the vanilla perfume of her morning shower, and he's getting drunk as he finds back all the marks he's claimed just three days ago, following and accentuating the purple-red shades.

She drags her nails down his torso in response, sending a rush of fire in his tight pants, and he roughly grabs her round butt as her legs are wrapping around him. All of their movements are ardent and frantic, producing a chain reaction, which they both know will lead to the explosion.

Yet they keep building the pressure inside and outside in frenzied attacks of lips, teeth, nails, hips, and every part of their bodies they can touch, taking as much as they can from each other. 

Even when he puts her back down, there's not a second for her to question what he is doing as his fingers immediately work on the buttons of her jeans, and he slips them down her legs with the help of her determinate hands. He takes off her panties as fast, and he only stops to gaze at her almost naked figure.

He is looking at her like he is dying of thirst, and she is the last drop of water. Though it may be the contrary: she is the fire, and he might end up in ashes, yet he doesn't want a single droplet of water.

She stops his contemplation when she pulls him for what is probably their millionth kiss, this one more tender as she just breathes in the fact that he is here. Yet there are so many emotions crashing on their swollen lips that it is even more intense, and it is consuming her from the touch of his raw lips to the blaze between her legs, by way of her galloping heart.

She is so lost in the fire of his lips that she gasps a moan when his warm hands wrap her legs around his hips again, and she is met by another burning part of him. She hasn't noticed he has slid down his pants and boxers, but now, she can't miss the faintest brush of his erection against her wetness. 

She writhes against him, her core throbbing painfully in need, like an echo of all the seconds she has counted ticking when she has been desperately worrying for him.

"Nathaniel..." she almost begs, and his heart leaps at the sound of his full name that he's thought, that he should have never heard again.

Though they can't risk it; they are already too close for two 'strangers', and fighting his most primal instincts and maybe even his will, he pants in a strained whisper, "We gotta be quiet."

She nods, closing her parted lips and opening her eyes as his words and the glimpse of the World Nations flag somewhere behind him are clear reminders of where they are. 

Yet there are still no second thoughts crossing her mind, and her reason must have burnt down in the fire she has feared she has lost Nathaniel in. All that is left is a blaze of emotions she can't control and a ravaging lust prickling her skin to feel him.

Their eyes meet, and through their darkened gaze, they both agree to breach their decision, not taking the time to think of the consequences.

He pushes deeply in her and captures her breathless gasp to mix it with his on their lips, and just like that, they resume with their frantic rhythm, both desperate to release the pressure building inside every part of their bodies. They both need the explosion.

He is ramming into her at a restless pace, yet each thrust is intent, and she has to bite hard on her bottom lip to prevent the sinful moans, maybe even cries, threatening to come out.

Seeing her like this is only driving him wilder. His blood is turning into fire, rushing through his veins until his throbbing hardness, where her walls are squeezing and hugging him perfectly, and his lungs are burning from all the intense sensations going through his body. 

He's so close, yet he focuses each of his movements on her and her reactions, hanging on her clenching muscles, the sinful sounds of her wetness, the hazy look in her eyes, and her ragged breaths growing more and more shallow, as he wants to bring her to the final bang with him.

Her ears are buzzing from the pressure he is tightening inside her core, and the sparks gathering there are each time closer to ignite the shattering blow. All her lower parts are already burning in a sparking fire as his nails are digging in the flesh of her behind, deliciously flaming the tender skin, and his hands are clutching her to meet each frantic move of his hips. She grasps him as tightly, letting her lips and teeth taste the salty skin of his neck, where the veins are coming out.

They have never been this raw and rough with each other; it doesn't resemble his considerate and protective nature, and nor her rational personality. But they are being taken away in a fire of emotions and feelings stronger than them, and their bodies are the only outlet to release them. 

It is frightening, yet also exhilarating as the adrenaline and pleasure are coursing through their veins, propelled by their racing hearts.

She bites roughly on his shoulder when the ripples of the explosion spread in all her members. She can't take it; it is almost too much. She doesn't know if she should stop or let him escalate her to the cataclysm, though her body decides for her.

"Nathaniel..." she moans on his glistening skin, and he grips her chin, clashing his lips on hers, as much to shut down their helpless cries of pleasure as to just feel her fully.

They are one again in this instant. When they have thought they would be apart forever, they are finding themselves closer and closer with each of his thrusts deeper. It's both this realization and the deep and fulfilling contact that make the pleasure explode in every part of her body, and the burning shockwaves are shaking her as his body starts shuddering, and he slams one hand on the door next to her, struck as much as her by the burst of bliss. 

"Ana..." he groans hoarsely on her lips, almost choking on his own breath.

She fights to keep her eyes open through the devastating explosion, cherishing to see him in front of her, more alive than ever, and shaken by the same blast as her, the same unquenchable fire running through their spent members.

Once they finally come down, it is like a light smoke, as they are still struggling to catch their breaths and clear their dizzy minds through the remaining bliss, and she still can't let her heavy eyelids close.

He is hunched over her, his forehead resting on hers and his labored breaths mixing with hers, and this is another kind of bliss, adding to the one still making her head spin. It is sweeter yet still intense, and she appreciates every inch of this close proximity, which maintains the restless pace of her heart.

It is maybe the faintest and softest movements that are having the strongest impacts against her ribcage like the light tickles of their sweaty skins touching with every fast breath, and when he slides out of her, putting her back on her feet with a gentleness contrasting with their frenzy from seconds ago.

She is sure he can hear the unrelenting hammering as he stays as close, holding her tightly to keep her standing on her wobbly legs, even if his might be as weak, and the silence is still enveloping them. Though it isn't awkward or heavy; it is cozy and precious, like everything about this suspended moment. 

They don't need words; actually, they have too much to talk about, and words don't seem to really work with them anyway.

Today, it is their bodies that are taking over, and they are showing much more than they could have ever with useless words or arguments. She lifts up her hands, ghosting over the white bandage, and while she licks her dry lips, she softly brushes the edges, approaching almost shyly the center of the strip. 

Her heart painfully skips a beat when he winces slightly under the pressure of her forefinger, and it is with her breath caught in her throat that she barely skims the white cloth with the tips of her fingers.

Her gaze is focused on the bandage, almost trying to see under, but her mind is farther away, realizing the feelings under her desperate worry. She cares for Nathaniel, more than she has bargained for, more than she has thought, and more than she should. 

The concern and fear she has experienced during all those hours and the immense joy and relief to see him again, they are undeniable proofs of her feelings for him, which are beyond a simple physical lust. 

She has been too deep into that smoke of horrible possibilities and flashbacks from the news to notice it before, and now that all their emotions have been released, it is hitting her loudly.

"I was so scared," she finally admits in a whisper, and he too uses his gestures to reply, grabbing gently her wrist and pulling her hand to his lips.

But he freezes his movements before the softness of his lips can ever soothe the light shakes of her fingers. "Is that the time?!"

She nods, her eyebrows creasing in front of his wide eyes staring at her watch, and maybe also because he is already leaning away.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm late to the report..." he mumbles, and her frown is naturally turning into a smile as she watches him sliding his boxers and pants back on and grabbing his shirt.

She should be mad, nervous, guilty, or any other heavy emotions that are so often filling up her stomach, but he just looks too cute with his messed curls and reddened skin. For once, he is the one in a rush, and she is still dazed and floating.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go... I'll see you later." His gaze dives into hers as he adjusts his shirt, and she doesn't have time to process anything that he pecks softly her lips before disappearing by the door.

Even more than the cataclysm they have just shared, she is left breathless by this small gesture that feels so much like a lovers' ritual.

To all of my little rays of sunshine who were worried for Nate, as you can see he is fine 😉🔥

What do you think of this passionate reunion and Anastasia's realization? And also the little lovers' ritual at the end? 😍 Will all of this change everything between them?

Let me know in the comments your thoughts and vote if you liked this explosive chapter! 😉

I wanna thank you all for your constant support! Each time I see a little vote, comment and even read (for the shy silent readers, yeah I see you too!) this lights up my day! 😉🌞❤

PS: I almost forgot! 'Oh mon dieu! Tu es vivant!' means 'Oh my god! You are alive!' This was the little French lesson of the day 🤓😁