He stared at me for what felt like forever.

Then—

He moved.

In one sudden, breath-stealing motion, Johan stepped forward and yanked me into him.

I gasped—a sound ripped from somewhere deep inside me—as I stumbled forward, chest colliding with his.

Before I could speak, his hand shot out, gripping both of my wrists in one large palm and pinning them behind my back.

Firm. Unyielding.

I barely had time to breathe.

His other hand found my jaw, fingers curling tightly under my chin, tilting my head up until our faces were barely inches apart.

His eyes burned into mine.

Dark. Wild. Unreadable—but no longer cold.

No.

Now they were alive with everything he’d been burying.

Anger. Hurt. Longing. Lust.

And then—

He kissed me.

No—he devoured me.

His lips crashed against mine, fierce and unapologetic. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was raw. Like something broken bursting open. Like every unspoken word, every locked-up emotion, every sleepless night between us had finally found its release.

His mouth moved against mine with a kind of desperation I didn’t know he was capable of.

Hungry. Bruising. Possessive.

Like he was punishing me for making him feel.

Like he was daring me to pull away—just to see if I would.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

My knees nearly gave out as his hand tightened on my jaw, guiding my mouth exactly how he wanted—commanding, claiming every inch of space between us.

I gasped into him again, but he swallowed the sound whole.

His grip on my wrists never loosened.

I was completely his in that moment—trapped in his hold, in his heat, in the dizzying chaos of a kiss that said everything his silence never could.

And still, I didn’t want it to stop.

Because this?

This was Johan unchained.

And he wanted me.

And than-

Bang.

My back hit the wall.

The sudden slam sent a jolt through my whole body. Johan had shoved me, pressed me, caged me between the cold wall and the heat of his chest.

His hand was still wrapped around both my wrists, now pinned above my head, his grip iron-strong, leaving me completely at his mercy.

And his mouth—

His mouth was back on mine, hotter, rougher, more demanding.

He kissed me like he was trying to erase every trace of air I had left. Lips crashing into mine over and over with messy, punishing force. His teeth grazed, then nipped, then bit.

Hard.

A sharp gasp broke from me when I felt the sting—his teeth catching my bottom lip and pulling.

Then he let go.

But not gently.

My lip throbbed, the metallic taste of blood blooming faintly on my tongue.

I blinked up at him, dazed.

He stared down at me, breathing hard, chest rising and falling like he’d just gone to war.

His grip on my wrists finally loosened, and I let my arms fall, aching, tingling.

I reached up instinctively to touch my lip, and he caught my wrist again, gently this time.

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

Swollen. Red. Bleeding.

His tongue darted out—almost unconsciously—like he wanted to taste the damage he caused.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, voice hoarse, low, almost angry.

I nodded, still panting. “I know.”

“Good.”

I blinked. “W-What?”

He leaned in again, brushing his forehead against mine, his voice barely a whisper now, tight with everything he couldn’t say earlier.

“That’s mine,” he said. “That mouth. That kiss. You.”

“I hate how much I wanted this.”

I swallowed. “So… you did want me.”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t make me say it.”

“I need you to say it.”

He closed his eyes, head falling forward slightly like he was trying to restrain himself from exploding again.

“I tried to forget you,” he said, his voice now quieter—vulnerable in a way that wrecked me. “After I found out about the dare. I tried so fucking hard. But every time I close my eyes, it’s your face. Your laugh. Your stupid texts. Your food. Your voice.”

He looked up, gaze burning straight through me.

“And I hated that you broke me like that.”

I felt a fresh wave of guilt rise in my chest, sharp and ugly.

“Phi…” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to break you. I just—I fell so hard I didn’t know how to stop.”

“I don’t want someone who might love me, North,” he said, voice low and shaking. “I want someone who chooses me. Every day. Even when it’s hard.”

I stepped closer, resting my forehead against his chest.

“I do. I am. I choose you, phi. I chose you when it was just a game. And now that it’s real, I’m still choosing you.”

His hand came up, threading into my hair as he tilted my head back to look at him again.

I hissed because of the grip.

“I don’t trust people easily,” he said. “And you? You ruined me. You dug under my skin, messed everything up.”

He leaned down, pressing one last kiss to the corner of my mouth—softer now, reverent, despite the sting.

“And I still want you anyway.”

I closed my eyes, lips trembling and my heart sprinting in my chest.

“I love you, P'Johan.”

He looked at me.

And for the first time—

He didn’t look away.