---
Chioma's breath caught in her throat.
The night hummed around them — distant horns, the murmur of voices from the lounge's patio, the sticky warmth of Lagos air clinging to her skin. But none of it mattered. Not when Kelvin was standing this close. Not when his eyes burned into her like that, dark and unflinching, as though daring her to look away.
She didn't.
She couldn't.
Kelvin's chest rose and fell, his breathing uneven. His gaze dipped to her lips, lingered, then snapped back to her eyes. "Chioma," he said, and her name sounded like a promise, like a warning. "You have no idea what you do to me."
A shiver skittered down her spine.
"I've tried," Kelvin continued, his voice rough, barely a whisper now. "I've tried to keep my distance. Tried to respect boundaries. But seeing him… hearing him say your name like he still has a claim… I can't do it."
His hand reached up, fingers brushing her cheek, tentative at first, like he was giving her a chance to stop him. When she didn't move, didn't speak, his palm cupped her jaw fully, thumb stroking the edge of her lips.
Chioma's lashes fluttered.
"Say no," Kelvin whispered. "If you don't want this… if you don't feel this… tell me to stop."
But she didn't. Instead, her hands found his chest, fingers splaying over the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat.
"I'm not saying no," she breathed, and the second the words left her mouth, Kelvin's restraint shattered.
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't careful.
It was fierce, desperate, claiming.
His mouth crashed against hers with a hunger that made her knees buckle. Chioma clutched his shirt, holding on as his arms banded around her waist, hauling her flush against him. The taste of him — whiskey, spice, and something unmistakably Kelvin — flooded her senses.
She moaned softly into his mouth, and that sound seemed to unravel him completely.
Kelvin backed her against the side of his car, his hands roaming from her waist to the small of her back, down to her hips, anchoring her to him as though afraid she might disappear. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and when she parted for him, the kiss deepened, turning molten.
It wasn't just a kiss.
It was a statement.
A declaration.
A warning to anyone who might think she was still up for the taking.
Kelvin kissed her like he needed her to remember this moment. To know that no one — not Justin, not anyone — could touch her again without answering to him.
Chioma's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, chasing the heat of him. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the world tilting around them.
When Kelvin finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing hard.
"Mine," he murmured against her lips, the word raw and possessive.
Chioma's heart skipped. Her lips tingled, swollen from the intensity of his mouth.
"You hear me, Chioma? I don't care what comes next. I don't care what it complicates. But you're mine now."
She could barely form words, could only nod, her hands still fisted in his shirt.
"I hear you," she whispered.
Kelvin kissed her again — slower this time, a lingering press of his mouth over hers, as though sealing the claim — before pulling back, his gaze fierce, protective, and unmistakably tender all at once.
Without another word, he opened the car door for her.
And when she slid inside, she knew everything had changed.
Forever.
---
The drive was quiet, save for the occasional sigh of tires against asphalt and the steady rhythm of both their breaths in the charged silence. When Kelvin finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex, the clock on the dashboard read 11:47PM.
Neither of them moved to get out.
Chioma stared ahead, the streetlights casting gold halos on the pavement, painting the windshield in flickering patterns. She could still feel the ghost of his mouth on hers, the burn of his touch on her skin.
Kelvin cut the engine. The sudden hush felt deafening.
For a long moment, he just sat there, his hand still wrapped around hers, his thumb idly tracing circles over the sensitive skin near her wrist. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rough around the edges.
"I didn't do that to… to complicate things."
She turned to face him, her gaze steady. "You didn't."
A muscle in his jaw jumped. His eyes dropped to her lips, lingered there. "But it's complicated anyway."
"Maybe," she whispered. "But I'm not scared of it."
That seemed to crack something in him.
Without another word, Kelvin shoved the door open and came around the car. Chioma's breath caught when he opened hers, reaching for her hand like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and was done pretending otherwise.
They made it inside the apartment without speaking — the night dense with unsaid things, the air between them almost suffocating with tension.
As soon as the door closed behind them with a soft, final click, Kelvin turned.
Chioma barely had time to draw breath before his hands were on her — one cupping her jaw, the other settling at her waist, pulling her into him with a firm, claiming grip. His mouth found hers like it was the only thing in the world worth chasing.
This kiss wasn't sharp and possessive like the one outside the lounge. This one was slow. Deep. A confession and a promise and a hundred unsaid words poured into every brush of lips, every slide of tongue.
Chioma moaned softly against his mouth, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as her body molded to his, her heart thundering in her chest.
Kelvin's thumb brushed along her jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He tasted like spice and heat, like dark liquor and unspoken hunger. Every time he exhaled against her skin, it made her shiver.
When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard, Kelvin rested his forehead against hers.
"I've wanted to do that since the day you walked into my restaurant," he murmured, his voice thick with need and something startlingly tender.
Chioma smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Then why didn't you?"
"Because you deserved better than being some late-night mistake."
She swallowed, her throat tight. "And now?"
He kissed her again, softer this time, his lips barely brushing hers. "Now I'm not letting you go."
He took her hand, led her toward the bedroom like it was the most natural thing in the world — no rush, no pressure. Just two people who'd been circling the inevitable for far too long.
And this time, neither of them was running.