"I didn't ignore you," Louis continued.
"I was trying not to pull you into something you're not ready for."
Nessa shook her head slowly, tears glazing her eyes.
"You leaving me in silence hurt more than anything you think you're protecting me from."
Louis's jaw tightened—just slightly—but enough to show the words hit him somewhere deep.
And then, for the first time, he let the truth slip.
"It hurts me too," he whispered.
Nessa inhaled sharply—because the way he said it… low, controlled, breaking at the edges… felt like a confession he'd been holding back for far too long, he stepped closer again—closer than before—and this time she didn't move, this time she couldn't.
The air between them grew heavy, charged, trembling with something unspoken but unmistakable, Louis lifted a hand—slowly—like he was afraid of touching her, afraid of himself.
But he didn't touch her, his fingers hovered just near her cheek, close enough to brush her warmth.
"Nessa," he murmured, voice barely above a breath,
"You have no idea what you do to me."
Her pulse stumbled, her lips parted, her eyes lifted to his, and for one fragile, dangerous second… he leaned in just slightly.
Not touching. Not kissing, Just close enough for his breath to mingle with hers.
Close enough to make her heart ache in a way she couldn't hide anymore.
"Please," he whispered, "don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" she breathed.
"Like you want me," he said softly,
"when I'm trying so damn hard not to want you."
Louis' words hung in the air like smoke.
Nessa's breath caught. Her chest tightened in a way she couldn't control. She wanted to move, to step back, to run—but every instinct betrayed her. Every fiber of her body leaned forward.
"You… you shouldn't say things like that," she whispered, voice trembling.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a measured step closer. Just one. Enough that the space between them crackled with heat. She could feel him—calm, poised, dangerous—like a storm held in stillness.
"I can't help it," he murmured, low, rough around the edges, voice like velvet sliding over steel. His gaze held hers, silver-dark, unreadable, piercing through every layer of her carefully constructed armor. "Every time I look at you… I lose a piece of myself."
Her pulse hammered. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to reach for him, to touch him, but she stayed rooted to the spot, as though even breathing too loudly might betray her longing.
"Louis…" she breathed, almost a plea.
"I'm telling you," he said, voice quiet, steady, dangerous. "Because you need to know… I'm not calm. Not when you're near me. Not when you look at me like that. Not when I'm standing here, and you're… right there." He gestured vaguely, encompassing her presence, the space she occupied, the pull she had on him.
Nessa's lips parted. She could feel the warmth of him, the scent that always set her skin on fire—smoke, rain, something dark and dangerous—and she wanted to melt into it, wanted to let herself fall into the ache in her chest.
"I don't… I don't know what to do," she whispered. Her voice was small, trembling. Vulnerable.
"Good," he said softly, a dark edge to his tone. "Because I don't either."
Her heart skipped. Every word, every pause, every movement drew her closer, yet kept her suspended in danger. It was intoxicating. Terrifying. Beautiful.
He lifted a hand slowly—not to touch her yet, just hovering near her jawline, careful, deliberate. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the restrained force behind every motion. The air between them was thick, almost visible, charged with desire neither dared speak aloud.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured again, low, intense. His eyes never left hers.
"I…" Her voice caught. She wanted to tell him everything, wanted to scream the ache of waiting, the longing, the quiet heartbreak. But she couldn't. Not yet.
He tilted his head, studying her, reading the small tremor in her fingers, the way her chest rose and fell, the way her lips parted like she might confess something dangerous.
"I can't lose control," he said, voice dropping lower, almost a growl that made her shiver. "But being near you… being in this room… i don't know what I might do."
The space between them seemed to shrink, not by movement but by gravity. Every heartbeat, every breath, every glance pulled her closer into him. She could feel the tension in him, coiled and dangerous, and yet beneath it—something softer. Something that made her chest ache even more.
"I… I don't want you to leave me like this," she whispered.
He smiled. Just a flicker, a ghost of something dangerous and possessive. "I'm not going anywhere, Nessa," he said softly. "Not tonight. Not ever."
And in that moment, with the city lights muted beyond the windows, the penthouse silent except for the faint hum of the world outside, Nessa felt it—every pull, every restraint, every dangerous piece of him—and knew that no one had ever made her feel this alive, this on the edge, this… wanted.
And Louis? He felt the same. Every careful breath, every restrained movement, every quiet second with her pulled him deeper into the storm he could no longer fight,
the air between them thickened instantly, heavy and electric. Nessa could feel it—the heat radiating from him, the magnetic pull, the unspoken promise in the set of his jaw, the darkness in his eyes that both frightened and captivated her.
"Don't," she whispered, voice trembling.
"Don't do what?" he murmured, slow, controlled, letting the words linger like smoke between them.
He tilted his head, just slightly, reading her completely. "You think I don't already know what you're thinking?
Her pulse hitched. She didn't answer. She couldn't.
"Look at me," he said softly, voice low, commanding, yet careful. His silver eyes—dark, stormy—captured hers. She obeyed. Instinctively. Completely.
The pull between them was unbearable. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The ache in her chest burned hotter. Every nerve ending screamed for him, for this dangerous closeness, louis closed the distance slowly, deliberately. Not a rush, not a leap—just inches at a time, his presence folding around her like a shadow she couldn't escape.
"You shouldn't be standing there, Nessa," he murmured, voice husky. "Because every second you do, I lose a little more control."
She swallowed, lips trembling. "I… I'm not going anywhere."
"Good," he said softly, letting the word linger. "Because I don't want you to."