I should have left.
I should have thanked him for dinner, made an excuse, and walked out before things got dangerous.
But then—Mehul pulled me onto the couch.
Pulled. Me.
Like it was normal.
Like I belonged there.
And the worst part?
I let him.
We were close.
Too close.
My shoulder pressed against his.
His fingers casually resting on his thigh—just inches from mine.
The warmth of him seeping into my skin like he wasn't completely ruining me.
I swallowed hard.
"This is… nice."
Mehul hummed. "Yeah?"
His voice was too low.
Too smooth. Too knowing.
I glanced at him—and immediately regretted it.
Because he was already looking at me.
Expression calm. Relaxed.
Like he had all the time in the world to watch me completely fall apart.
I should have said something.
Changed the subject.
Gotten up.
Something—anything—to stop whatever was about to happen.
But then—he reached out.
Fingers tracing lightly over my wrist.
Slow. Deliberate.
I stopped breathing.
Because this wasn't teasing anymore.
This wasn't some fleeting touch.
This was intentional.
And he knew it.
I exhaled, trying to steady myself.
"Mehul…"
He hummed. "Hmm?"
I swallowed. "You're—"
I couldn't even finish my sentence.
Because before I could—he leaned in.
Close. Too close.
And just when I thought he was going to kiss me—
He didn't.
He stopped right there.
Mouth a breath away from mine.
Waiting.
It was my choice now.
Pull away.
Or close the distance.
My heartbeat was out of control.
My hands curled into fists against the couch.
I swallowed.
Screw it.
I leaned in.
And then—I kissed him.
Slow. Messy. Desperate.
Because this was months of tension.
Months of flirting, teasing, waiting.
And now?
Now, there was no waiting left.
Mehul sighed into the kiss.
Like he had been expecting this.
Like he had been waiting for me to break.
His hand slid to my jaw, tilting my face up.
I gasped—and he took advantage of it immediately.
Deepened the kiss. Took control.
I barely registered the way I pulled him into my lap.
I barely registered the way his fingers slipped under my shirt, tracing my spine.
All I knew?
Was that I had lost.
Completely.
And worst of all?
I didn't want to win.