Maximo's POV

The night is thick with the kind of tension that clings to the skin, impossible to shake off. After everything that's happened—after the kiss, after the quiet intensity between us—I can't get the image of Kai out of my head. His breath, his hands on me, the way he finally gave in.

I step back from him, but it's a struggle. Every part of me wants to pull him closer again, to drown in that feeling of power, of control, of him. But I can see it in his eyes—he's not ready to admit it. Not yet. He's still trying to hold on to whatever pieces of himself he thinks he can keep.

Kai's staring at me now, eyes burning with something I can't quite place—anger, frustration, confusion, maybe a little fear. He's standing there, his chest rising and falling like he's just run a marathon. His lips are swollen from the kiss, and I can see the heat still in his gaze, even though he's trying to hide it. But I know. I know exactly what he's feeling. He's just as consumed by this as I am.

I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, and I watch him carefully. My mind is racing, but I don't let it show. Not yet. "You still don't get it, do you?" I ask quietly, watching his every movement, trying to decipher what's going on behind those cold eyes of his.

He doesn't answer me right away, his jaw tight. It's obvious he's fighting something—something inside of him that doesn't want to give in to this, whatever the hell this is. But he can't keep fighting it forever. No one can. Not when it's this strong, this real.

Finally, he speaks, his voice rough. "This doesn't change anything."

His words sting, but they don't surprise me. I've seen the way he's been keeping me at arm's length for months now. He's terrified of what this might mean—of what we might mean. But it's already too late for him. Too late for both of us.

I push off from the wall and step closer to him, not giving him the chance to pull away. He watches me, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You think it doesn't change anything?" I ask, the edge in my voice sharper now. "Tell me that again when you can't get the taste of me out of your mouth."

I watch his throat tighten, his jaw clenched, but he doesn't back away. He's holding his ground, but even I can see that it's all an act. He's not fooling me.

I step closer, my presence looming over him, towering. "Tell me you didn't feel that, Kai. Tell me you didn't want more."

His breath hitches, and for a moment, I think he's going to break. His eyes dart to my lips and then back to my eyes, and in that split second, I know everything I need to know. He wants this. He wants me.

"You're not like this, Max," he says, his voice cracking just a little, like he's holding on to whatever little bit of control he has left. "This isn't... you're not supposed to be like this."

I laugh, low and dangerous. "And what? You're supposed to be the calm, collected bomb expert, always in control, always the one calling the shots?" I take another step forward, crowding him, watching his body tense under my gaze. "I don't give a damn about the 'rules,' Kai. I'm gonna break every single one of them, starting with you."

His breath catches again, and I know he's trying to figure out how to respond—how to push me away when all he really wants to do is pull me in. It's written all over him. I can see the struggle, the conflict, but I can also see the curiosity, the hunger.

"I don't need your rules," I growl, my voice a low rumble. I reach out and grab him by the wrist, pulling him towards me, forcing him to face me. His chest is flush against mine now, and I can feel his heart hammering in his chest, matching the frantic rhythm of mine.

"You don't need them either," I say quietly, my face inches from his. "Not with me."

I let the words sink in, watching his expression shift. His eyes search mine, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. His body says it all. He wants me just as badly as I want him.

"Don't pull away now," I murmur, my lips brushing against his, teasing him, holding him in place with my body. "You can't unfeel this, Kai. You can't take it back."

His breath shudders, and then—finally—he moves. His lips crash into mine with an intensity that almost knocks me off balance. It's rough, desperate, like he's been waiting for this as long as I have. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss as if he can't get enough of me.

I let him take control for a moment, just a moment, but then I shift, flipping the script, taking over again. My hands move to his waist, gripping him tight, pulling him against me so he can feel every inch of me. My body presses hard against his, and I hear him groan—a low, almost tortured sound that drives me wild.

"You want this," I mutter against his lips. "You wanted this the second I kissed you."

He doesn't answer me with words. Instead, he pushes me back, hard, pinning me to the nearest bunk. His body presses into mine, his mouth hot and hungry against my skin. He's losing it. And I'm going to make sure he doesn't find himself again.

Kai's hands are on me now, pressing, pulling, desperate. For once, the bomb expert is no longer in control. His usual cool composure is slipping, his fingers gripping the fabric of my uniform like he's trying to steady himself. But I know better—he's not steadying himself. He's trying to keep his distance, keep control over what's happening between us.

But it's slipping through his fingers, just like I knew it would.

I feel the burn of his touch, the heat of his body against mine, and damn, I can't get enough. The kiss is raw, unrefined, like we're both trying to devour each other, to stake our claim on the other. It's everything I've been wanting, everything I've been waiting for, and it feels so right, even as it feels completely wrong.

His chest is pressed against mine, and I can feel the weight of his breath, sharp and uneven. He's conflicted, I can tell—his body's giving in, but his mind? His mind is still fighting, still trying to make sense of what's happening.

I'm done letting him fight it.

I break the kiss, but I don't pull away. My lips hover over his, my breath mingling with his as I whisper, "You're not walking away from this, Kai. Not now."

He opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. Instead, he looks at me—really looks at me—and I can see the hesitation there. The doubt. He's scared. Not of me, but of what this means for him. What it means for us.

"Don't look at me like that," I murmur, my fingers tracing his jawline. "You wanted this from the start."

I can feel the heat rise between us again, and before he can fight it any longer, I kiss him again, this time slow, controlled. I take my time, letting him feel the pressure of my lips, letting him feel my need, my hunger. I can feel him melt into me, his hands moving to my shoulders, his body relaxing against mine as he finally surrenders to the pull.

I deepen the kiss, and this time, there's no resistance. He's all in. His body presses harder against mine, his tongue slipping past my lips, and it's like a wave crashing over me. I'm drowning in him, in the taste of him, in the feel of his body against mine.

He's mine now.

I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands resting on his waist, feeling the tension in his body, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick bursts. His eyes are closed, and I can see the vulnerability in his face. The walls he's spent so long building are crumbling, and I'm the one tearing them down.

"Kai," I whisper, my voice rough. "Tell me you need me. Tell me you want this as much as I do."

He's breathing heavily now, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his heartbeat. His hands are still gripping me, his fingers digging into my shoulders. He doesn't answer me right away, but I don't need words. I see it in his eyes—his gaze is desperate, heated, and when he finally opens his mouth, all he says is:

"I don't want to stop this."

And just like that, I know. I know we've crossed the line. There's no turning back now.

I press my forehead to his, my breath mingling with his as I murmur, "Then don't."

And with that, I push him onto the bunk, following him down. I straddle him, looking down into his eyes, watching the conflict still warring inside of him, but it's fading, slowly but surely.

His body is trembling beneath mine, his hands gripping the sheets tightly, but I can see it now—he's not trying to escape. He's not pulling away anymore. He's not hiding from what we both want.

I lean down, kissing him again, slow and deep. My hands roam down to his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the heat of his body beneath the fabric of his uniform. I can hear his breath hitch in his throat as I move lower, my lips trailing down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin.

"Max..." His voice is strained, hoarse, like he's fighting to keep control.

But he's not in control anymore. Not when I'm here, not when I'm making him feel every inch of what I've been wanting. I lean up, my lips hovering over his once again, and I say the words that will seal it.

"You're mine tonight."