Chapter 30 30

Chapter 30 30
Chapter 30
A Game of Fire
Was I that raw, or was my plan just too good? Honestly, I didn’t care about anyone’s opinion anymore. All I knew was that I wanted Damien.
He kept trying to hide from me, pretending like his feelings didn’t exist, burying them under that serious face of his, that strong façade he always carried. But I wasn’t going to let him keep hiding, not tonight.
There was something about the fear I used to feel around him; it was gone. Maybe it was because of the effect of too much intake of alcohol.At least that was what I thought.
Or probably it was the wild rhythm of the party still pulsing through my veins, or maybe it was the fact that deep down, I had already crossed the line long before this moment. I didn’t care if it was forbidden. I didn’t care if it was wrong. All I knew was that I wanted Damien, and only Damien.
Tonight, we would play a game. Drink, strip, and be naked. Sounds fun, right?
I told myself it was going to be hot and dangerous, and at least for the night, I got exactly what I wanted because that was exactly why I wanted it.
My chest rose and fell with anticipation as I dragged him slowly toward the sitting room. My fingers curled tightly around his wrist; I could feel the warmth of his skin burning against my palm.
He followed without resistance, though his brows were furrowed in confusion, and his lips pressed together like he was trying to hold back words he didn’t want to say.
We sat opposite each other, the couch groaning beneath us as if even the furniture understood what was about to happen. The wine bottle stood proudly on the low table between us, the dim light from the overhead lamp reflecting off its glass.
For a long time, neither of us spoke. My heart beat so loudly in my chest, I was afraid he could hear it. But why was I even afraid? The fact that I came up with this game and am still afraid is overwhelming.
His eyes were fixed on me, steady and unreadable, while mine flickered over his face, searching for the slightest sign of nervousness on him.
Finally, Damien broke the silence. He leaned back a little, his jaw shifting as he muttered, “Okay. Let me start.”
But then, as if reconsidering, he gave me a small smirk—it was more like a grin but enough to make my stomach twist—and said, “Actually, why don’t you go first? Ladies first.”
I lifted my chin, pretending to be fine and not anxious, though my insides were trembling with fire. “Fine,” I said, resting my elbow on the arm of the couch and leaning slightly forward. “Here’s my first assumption: you had a crush on me when we were younger.”
The corner of his lip twitched upward, and for a second, I swore I saw him giggle a little. I already knew the truth; I had seen it in his eyes back then, the way he used to avoid me too much and the way he never let me get too close. I thought I had him cornered; finally he was going to strip first.
But his response threw me off guard from my fantasy. He came closer to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he said, “Wrong. You were just a little kid. How could I have a crush on someone so small?”
My breath caught; I was so furious. “Small?” My voice cracked with a mix of offense and disbelief. “Did you just call me…”
“Yes,” he cut me off, his lips curling into something between amusement and restraint. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Stop!”
My chest tightened. He really was trying to play this game differently. He wasn’t going to give me what I wanted so easily. But I refused to back down.
“Fine,” I muttered, grabbing the glass of wine and filling it halfway before gulping it down in one go. The liquid burned my throat, fueling the fire already raging inside me. “Then I guess that means you strip.” He said, his eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?”
“You got it wrong,” He reminded me, his voice was daring. “The rules are simple. A wrong answer means you drink and you strip. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
I chuckled as I watched him brush his fingers through his dark hair as though trying to shake me off.
“Scared? Never.” I smirked bravely, lifting my arms with deliberate slowness. My fingers slid beneath the edge of my crop top, and I pulled it over my head slowly. The air hit my skin, and I somehow felt shy at the exposure.
But lord! I could practically feel his gaze devouring me; he stared at me looking so lost.
For a brief moment, I swore the world stopped. His eyes…those dark, unreadable eyes, were wide, fixed on my chest, on the black bra, and on my breast pressing out slightly.
His throat moved as he swallowed, his jaw clenched tight as though he was trying so hard not to let me see how much he wanted me.
I smiled faintly, biting my lower lip. This was exactly what I wanted.
But then, as quickly as it came, he looked away. His jaw flexed, and he grabbed the wine glass instead. “Fine. My turn.”
I arched a brow, leaning back casually, though inside, I wanted that look from him over and over again.
“You were… excited to see me when I showed up as your professor’s assistant,” he said, his eyes flicking back to mine, testing me.
I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “Wrong, Mr. Damien.” I leaned closer, my lips just inches from his ear. “In fact, I wasn’t excited at all. So… strip.”
His laugh was soft, low, and dangerous. He shook his head, reached for the glass, and downed the wine in one quick swallow. “I don't believe that.” He said, and I chuckled.
Then his fingers reached for the hem of his shirt. My breath caught as he lifted it, his body revealed inch by inch—the sharp muscles of his stomach, the beautiful butterfly tattoo across his chest, and the cross tattoo on his neck. I found myself drooling over him again.
My mouth went dry. His abs, the six-pack, and the already hardened nipples were all right there in front of me, and I felt my body clench with a heat I could barely contain.
My lips parted, but I couldn’t find words.
His gaze cut into me, sharp and knowing, and he tilted his head slightly. “What are you thinking, Clarissa?” His voice was low and teasing, though his eyes were dead serious. “Getting carried away already?”
I nearly choked on my own breath. “N-no.” I coughed lightly, forcing myself to snap out of it. “It’s my turn, so ask.”
“Are you sure you're ready for it?” he asked, settling back, though his eyes never left me. What the hell are you doing to me, Damien!?
“Yes,” I said, taking a deep breath; I forced my thoughts into order. “Why did you try so hard to get into Elite University? You knew how expensive it was, you knew you’d need a scholarship, and yet you still did everything to get in. Why?”
He asked, my brow lifted slightly, but he smirked. “Did you not understand the question?”
“Yes.” I leaned closer, his eyes locking on mine. “Damien, you’re dodging. That’s not a real assumption. That’s just you trying to pry into me.” I said as my lips twitched.
That wasn’t the kind of question I expected from him.
“I…” I began, fumbling.
He leaned closer, watching me intently. “And let me clarify,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing. “Why did you try so hard to get into Class A? The class where I am?”
I let out a short laugh, masking the thundering of her heart. I sounded so awkward. “Oh, that? I heard Class A is the best. The one that produces the most successful students. And I like Professor Agnes…she’s strict but fair. She gives the best internship opportunities. That’s why.”
But as I spoke, I just found myself coming closer to him, without even realizing it. Our knees brushed each other slightly. My voice faltered out of anxiety, but I quickly forced myself to keep my smile.
Immediately after I finished, Damien didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he reached forward, closing the space between us. He kissed my neck; it was so soft, and it sent cold shivers down my spine.
I gasped softly; my body trembled at his touch. The heat of it pooled deep in my stomach.
My voice came out in a whisper, shaky and weak. “M-my turn.”
Damien pulled back slightly, smirking at me with those flushed cheeks and dreamy eyes. “Go on,” he murmured.
I swallowed hard, trying to focus. “You care more about my sister…and about what the family would think—than you care about me.”
I wanted to corner him with this truth, to force him to admit it. But Damien’s face was unreadable, and then, slowly, he shook his head.
“Wrong,” he said simply. “Strip.”
The word struck me like lightning. My heart skipped a beat. So he actually cares about me?
I grabbed the glass, poured myself another drink, and swallowed it quickly. I looked down at myself and found out that it's just my skirt and bra to be removed. Oh God!
My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the button of my skirt. I began to undo it, my fingers fumbling, and my breath was shaky.
But then….
“Clarissa,” Damien’s voice cut through, low and sharp. “Wait.”
I froze instantly, my fingers still on the button. My chest rose and fell in sharp waves as I lifted my eyes to him. His face had changed; it was no longer teasing and no longer playful.
His brows were furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes burning with something I couldn’t name.
My heart stopped.
Why was he stopping me now?