Ateş Karahan

“Are you still mad at me, Mercan?” he asked, his voice a low, vibrating hum that seemed to echo in her chest. Mercan stopped, her eyes flashing. “Yes,” she snapped, her voice tight, though her heart had begun to hammer against her ribs. “I am.” Ateş didn’t recoil. Instead, he moved with a sudden, fluid motion, grabbing her waist and pulling her flush against him. Mercan gasped, her breath hitching as her chest collided with the hard planes of his. He reached out, his hand sliding beneath the lapel of his coat and with a slow, deliberate movement, he brushed the stray locks of hair away from her shoulder, exposing the pale, sensitive skin of her neck. He leaned in, his lips hovering just a fraction of an inch from her ear, his warm breath sending a violent shiver down her spine. “Oh... that mad,” he whispered, a dark, knowing smirk playing on his lips. The proximity was overwhelming. Mercan felt her balance waver, her head swimming as the scent of his sandalwood cologne filled her senses, intoxicating and familiar. She pressed her palms against his chest to push him away, but her fingers involuntarily curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping him instead of repelling him. “Stop,” she breathed, glancing frantically toward the lobby where employees were milling about. “Stop it. There are people near us.” Ateş didn’t let go. Instead, he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her even closer until there wasn’t a sliver of air between them. He let out a low, humming chuckle against her skin. Mercan tilted her head back, trying to maintain her composure despite the heat radiating from him. “Careful, Ateş”,she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desire. “Don’t snuggle too much... you’ll get burned.” Ateş pulled back just enough to lock his dark, hungry eyes with hers. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. “Too late,”he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly register. “I’m already burning in love.” Mercan’s breath hitched. The boldness of it, delivered with such raw intensity, made her stomach flip. She let out a soft, challenging huff, her gaze dropping to his lips before meeting his eyes again. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with all this fire?” Ateş leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a ghost of a kiss, a promise of the chaos to come. “You,” he whispered, “are going to love it.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He gripped her hand, his fingers locking with hers in a firm, unyielding hold and led her toward his private cabin. The walk was an exercise in torture, every brush of their shoulders, every accidental touch of their hips, felt like a spark hitting gasoline. The silence between them was no longer cold, it was electric, thick with the unspoken promise of what was about to happen. The moment the heavy oak door swung shut behind them and the lock clicked, the facade of corporate professionalism vanished. Mercan turned to him, her anger returning in a surge. “You think you can just pull me into a hallway and..” He didn’t let her finish. Ateş slammed her back against the closed door, his mouth crashing onto hers in a kiss that wasn’t a request, it was a demand. It was a collision of teeth and tongue, tasting of frustration and long denied hunger. Mercan fought him for a second, her hands slapping against his shoulders, but the fight quickly morphed into a desperate need. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her moan lost in his throat. “I’m still angry,” she whispered, though she wrapped her arms around his waist neck and pulled him back down for another kiss. Ateş chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. “Good. We’ll just have to stay in this cabin until you’re not.”