her scent -+- miguel ohara -+- ~~~~Complete

16🕸️ The Need For More🕸️

The moment she left Miguel's office, her thoughts were a mess. There was a static buzzing in her head, her heart pounding in her chest as if it were a warning bell she couldn't silence. Her body was on fire, her skin still tingling from the heat of his touch. It had all happened so fast, so out of control—her fingers brushing against his chest, the way he'd kissed her like it was an act of possession, not just passion.

She hated that she felt this way. She hated that she couldn't get his scent, his touch, out of her head.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" she muttered under her breath, pacing the hallway. She was still burning, the scent of him lingering in her nose like some sort of forbidden fruit she couldn't resist. And damn it, she didn't want to resist.

The confusion gnawed at her. She knew Miguel—knew him well enough to understand that his whole world was one of control, of keeping things in order. He wasn't the kind of man who let his guard down, so what the hell had she done to make him act like that? Why did she feel like there was more to his touch than just a moment of possessiveness?

And why did it make her want him more?

She ran her fingers through her dark hair, exhaling sharply. The door to her room creaked open, but instead of stepping inside, she leaned against the frame. She needed some space, but she couldn't shake the thought that Miguel was still out there. Somewhere, close. It felt like he was always within arm's reach.

Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

Miguel sat at his desk, staring at the same damn screen he'd been working on for the last hour. But his thoughts weren't on the data in front of him. They were on her. Her scent. The way she had felt in his arms. Her lips—how they tasted like something forbidden, something dangerous.

No matter how many times he tried to focus, it all came back to that moment. The way she pushed him away, but didn't go far enough to escape. The fire in her eyes. The tension that had burned between them.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to breathe through the frustration. He knew he shouldn't want her like this. He shouldn't be obsessed with the way she smelled, the way she made him lose control in a way he couldn't even understand. He had never been like this with anyone.

And yet here he was, unable to let go.

The door to his office opened, and he turned his head slightly, his breath catching in his throat when he saw Callisto standing there, just outside, her eyes avoiding his. Her body language screamed confusion, but there was something more. Something unreadable, like she was torn between leaving and staying.

"Callisto," his voice was rough, like gravel, and it startled her. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them said a word.

She stepped inside, but only slightly, as though testing the waters. Miguel could see the hesitation in her, feel the tension between them. Her scent was stronger now, overpowering even his senses.

"You don't get it, do you?" she muttered, her voice low, almost pained. "This thing... between us. It's too much. I can't... I can't keep doing this."

Miguel stood from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he moved closer, his steps calculated, measured. "Then why are you here?"

She flinched at the question, her eyes flashing with something that could have been fear. Or anger.

"Because," she started, her voice barely above a whisper, "I need more. I don't know why, but I can't stop thinking about it. About you. What happened between us."

His heart skipped a beat at her admission.

"I know you're confused," Miguel said, his voice softer now. He could feel the pull toward her, the heat between them becoming unbearable. "You think you can walk away from this, from me. But you can't, Callisto. Not anymore."

She took a step back, but her eyes were still on him.

"I don't want to be the one who holds you back, Miguel," she said, her tone strained. "I don't know how to handle this. I've never felt like this before, and it scares me."

Miguel's gaze softened slightly, but only for a moment. He was still angry, still frustrated by her distance, by the wall she was building around herself. But beneath all that anger was something else, something that was starting to take root. A need. A need for more of her.

He moved toward her, his steps slow but deliberate. "You think I don't feel the same?" he growled. "I've been trying to fight it, trying to stay in control. But it's not working. I can't stop wanting you, Callisto."

Her breath hitched, and she looked up at him, the words she wanted to say caught in her throat.

"I—"

Before she could finish, he closed the distance between them, his hand gently cupping her face. His thumb traced her cheek, his eyes searching hers, looking for any sign of doubt.

And that was when she realised she didn't want to doubt him anymore. She didn't want to fight this pull between them.

Her lips parted, and Miguel took that as the sign he needed. He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers, a kiss that was slow at first, tentative, but grew more urgent with every passing second.

And when they finally pulled apart, gasping for air, neither of them could deny it anymore.

The need for more was real.

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