Innocent Temptation

Chapter Twenty Two: Are you real?

Mac followed her, knowing full well he shouldn’t. He knew better than to let himself get caught up in this web and give oxygen to the fire burning inside him as if he wasn’t already obsessed enough. He knew it could end up in a disaster if he let himself get close to her. Yet, as soon as she left with Greg, something dark and primal within him refused to let her go. So, against his better judgment, he found himself at the club, hiding in the shadows. And he watched her like some kind of possessive guardian when he had no right to. Aira had said the same but he refused to let someone else have her. Or, not keep an eye on her when she was so susceptible of putting herself in danger more often than he’d like it.

He settled in a shadowy corner of the club and when he looked around searching for his little obsession, he found her near the dance floor. She was wrapped up in a concoction of white and pink, standing out like an angel among the mere mortals. And, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was so fûcking beautiful, it hurt to look at her. When he had seen her outside their house, he had been rendered speechless with how delectable she’d looked in that mini dress that managed to show off her womanly curves and still with her favourite colours managed to display her innocence too. And even though he had wanted to throw her over his shoulder, take her back inside her house and demand that she change into something else, another part of him wanted to take her to his own house, to his own bedroom and be the one to remove that little dress with his own hands or teeth; he wasn’t picky.

But she had looked at him like she’d rather not talk to him and he hadn’t not noticed the way she had been avoiding him since that kiss, which shouldn’t have happened in the first place. But he had been unable to control himself. He had tried to stay away and when he couldn't anymore, when he heard her having a nightmare he couldn't stop himself. He doubted even an interruption from the forces beyond his belief would’ve been able to stop him.

And now as he stared at her, once again he wanted to take her in his arms and claim her once and for all in front of everyone. Especially that little fuckface Greg who hadn’t already gotten the hint. And now Riya and Joey has their arms around his little angel and was corrupting her as they steered her towards the bar.

He clenched his fists when he saw Riya urging her to take shots, and when Joey grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor, it took every ounce of control to stay seated. He hated that boy’s hands on her, hated the way Joey tried to pull her closer. Mac’s fingers itched to teach him a lesson— he was sure he could make an excuse to Mrs Weaver why her grandson had two broken arms, but then Aira’s carefree laughter rang out, and it momentarily soothed the storm brewing inside him.

In the crowd of men and women who screamed at the top of their lungs on the dance floor, his little angel looked out of place. She didn’t belong here. Not in a place where men hunted for their next conquest, where the air was thick with alcohol and lust. Aira, with her pink and white outfit, stood out like an innocent ready to be corrupted. She was too fûcking pure for this world. And he hated how everyone around her seemed to be salivating over her, how men couldn't take his eyes off her like they wanted to be the one to debauch that purity she exuded. Like hell, they will. If anyone was ever going to claim his little angel and tarnish her innocence it will be him. But he will not do that, ever.

She wasn’t just too good, too sweet, for this place, but this world and the people living in it. Including him. Even when she did things that punctured his soul and hurt his heart in the most brutal ways. Even when he knew that she might not be as innocent as he’d like to believe her to be.

But he’d give her that, she looked the part. And he was still the same man as he’d been more than a decade ago who had wanted her to be his. And only his.

Mac’s fists clenched into fists and his eyes narrowed as he saw Greg getting closer to her more than needed. He had already stopped himself several times from storming over and dragging her out of there. But her smile and the genuine happiness on her face had stopped him as she looked more carefree than he had seen her in a while, and something in him twisted painfully at the sight. He didn't want to take that away from her and ruin her evening with her friends.

But all of that selfless thoughts slipped down the drain when he saw her stumble on the dance floor and how Greg was there to catch her in the next breath. Breathing heavily with red hot anger brewing inside him, he saw Greg leading her away to a quite corner.

And against his wishes, all his patience was in tatters as Mac was out of his seat and cutting through the crowd before he even had time to think. He pushed the people aside, not caring if they fell, his eyes locked on the way Greg held her too close and how his hand were on her waist like it belonged there. The sight made his blood boil. He saw red. Because no one else’s hands belonged on her or anywhere near her.

Mac marched up to them, his jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might c***k. Without a word, he grabbed Aira’s arm and yanked her out of Greg’s hold.

The subject of his obsession let out a startled shriek, her eyes wide with confusion. But when she saw it was him, her surprise morphed into drunken giggles. “Oh, look… it’s Mac.”

Her words slurred, and she stumbled a little as she swayed toward him, but Mac ignored her or tried to, while he glared at Greg. He leaned in close to the man, his voice low and dangerous. “I’m taking her home,” he growled. Greg opened his mouth to argue, but Mac cut him off. “You lost a project, don’t give me another reason to make you lose your job altogether.”

The threat hung in the air, and Greg’s eyes widened with realization. Whatever fight he had drained out of him, and he stepped back, hands raised in surrender. Mac didn’t give him the satisfaction of another word as he gave him a disgusted look for backing away so easily and giving up a woman like his angel without a fight. Instead, he scooped Aira up into his arms, her weight light and delicate against him, and marched out of the club.

“Are you real?” Aira murmured, her head tilting back as she stared up at him, her bright blue eyes half-lidded from the alcohol. Her small finger poked at his cheek as if she were testing him, but she didn’t wait for his response. “You can’t be…”

He huffed, adjusting her in his arms as he pushed through the crowded club. “Why?” he asked, his voice gruff as he navigated through the exit. He felt the warmth of her soft skin against his palm where he gripped her on the back of her thighs and he was so tempted to reach up and feel the heat between her legs. He cursed himself in silence at that thought as he stepped out of the club while the little angel in his arms caressed his chest in fascination as if she liked what she felt.

“You’re not glaring at me. Duh,” His little angel replied, her lips quirking into a small, drunken smile.

His lips twitched despite himself. She was adorable. Completely exasperating and not at all safe for his sanity, but adorable. As he crossed the parking lot and made his way toward his car, she snuggled closer into his chest. And then, sniffed him. He almost dropped her when she murmured, “Smells so good.” And then a minute later, she mumbled in her sleepy voice that was muffled against his shirt. “Can I tell you something?” Then, without waiting for his response she continued, “Of course, I can. Because you’re not real, so I can say it…”

He grunted in response, opening the car door and carefully placing her inside. But her words made him pause. “I didn’t want to come here,” she whispered, her voice softer now.

Mac stilled, his heart kicking up a notch. He looked down at her. Her beautiful face was flushed from the alcohol. His brows lowered in a frown, he asked in a gentle voice that he rarely used, “Then why did you?”

Aira blinked up at him, her blue eyes hazy but sincere as she said, “Because of you.” His breath caught in his throat as she continued, “You made me angry,” her words slow and deliberate, as if she were confessing a great secret, “You apologized for my first kiss.”

Mac faltered, his entire world grinding to a halt. His first instinct was to ask her if she meant it—if she truly thought of that kiss as her first. But she was drunk, her thoughts tangled in a fog of alcohol. He couldn’t believe her, not when her words were slurred and incoherent. And not when he already knew the truth.

But damn it, he wanted to believe her.

“Your first kiss?” he repeated softly, his throat tight.

“Hmm…” Aira murmured, nodding as her eyes fluttered shut. “My first kiss…” Her voice trailed off, and just like that, she was asleep, her breathing soft and even.

Mac stared down at her for a long moment, his emotions warring within him. Part of him wanted to shake her awake, to make her say it again while sober, to make sure she meant it. But another part of him, the part that craved her, that wanted to protect her from everything—even himself—knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Still, as he closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side, her words echoed in his mind. You made me angry when you apologized for my first kiss. And he wished, he fûcking wished it wasn’t a lie because he had already seen the truth with his own eyes at her eighteenth birthday.

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What do you think happened on her 18th bday??

A. Gupta