In the Captivity of Temptation

7: Unexpected Visit

“Andriy Mykolayovych?" I blurt out suddenly, feeling heat rush to my cheeks.

His devilish eyes slowly shift from mine, greedily taking in the view before him.

"Oh my God," I stammered and closed the door, realizing I was just in a towel. "I’m only wearing a towel!"

I quickly pull my fingers from the door and dash back to the bathroom, clutching the towel tightly. I grab a terrycloth robe, throw it on over the towel, and cinch it tightly. Once secure, I take a deep breath and head back.

When I opened the door again, he stood in the hallway, still not stepping further into the apartment. His forehead is creased with thought. I feel awkward seeing HIM here, especially after his cold words earlier.

I swallow nervously and bite my lower lip. "I didn't expect to see you at my door."

He seems to snap back to reality, but his eyes still look predatory. "Good evening, Milana," he chuckles. "Sorry for dropping by unannounced."

His gaze drifts from my face to the neckline of my robe, and I instinctively cross my arms over my chest, feeling exposed.

"Um, can I ask what brought you here?" I glance around, trying to figure out why he’s at my apartment.

"Well," he raises his hand to reveal a scarf I hadn’t noticed he was holding. "This is what brought me."

He hands me the soft fabric, and I take it in a daze. "Thank you."

"You left it in my car today," he continues, clearing his throat. "I was a bit rude earlier, so I thought I’d bring it back and apologize in person."

"Oh," my feelings swirl, leaving me momentarily speechless. I blink a couple of times. "That’s alright. I was pretty abrupt, too."

I start to relax a bit, loosening my grip on the robe. "But how did you find my address?"

"Easy," he smirks. "Called Khmylevych."

"Oh no!" I inwardly groan. "Now he’ll think I’m after a partner."

Polianskyi’s expression shifts. " Getting to your place wasn’t hard. But...," he adds sternly, "you should really look through the peephole before opening the door next time."

His tone feels condescending, and something snaps inside me. "Andriy Mykolaiovych," I retort sharply, "I’m an adult and can take care of myself, especially in my own home."

We both freeze, exchanging stubborn looks. His turquoise eyes take on a hard look, making me instinctively step back, while he steps forward like a predator closing in.

"This could be dangerous, Milana. Do you understand?" he says, his voice low, standing way too close. I can see the pattern on the buttons of his cream shirt and smell the woody scent of his cologne, which overwhelms my senses.

"Dangerous?" I stutter, trying to gauge if he’s still talking about the door. My heart pounds in my chest, my thoughts scatter, and I feel my fingers clench into fists.

What’s worse is how much he disturbs me. From our very first meeting, he’s ignited something unexpected in me: his looks, his voice, that intoxicating scent, and now, all those sensations crash over me like waves.

Suddenly, I snap back to reality. I take a desperate breath, and his scent floods my senses again.

"No, this can’t be happening," I think, but my eyes, as if on autopilot, drift up to his deep turquoise gaze. Involuntarily, I look down at his lips, so close to mine. And before I know it, they’re crashing into me in a fierce kiss.

For a moment, I think he’s punishing me for being careless, for letting him in. And maybe he’s right. But right now, I can’t think.

His lips are intoxicating, sending waves of sensation through me. The kiss shifts from rough to tender, drawing me in, tasting, exploring. I can’t hold back a muffled moan as my body responds instinctively. My knees weaken, and I almost buckle.

Desperate fingers clutch his coat, pulling him closer as I press against his chest, lost in the kiss, finally responding with equal passion.

He pulls away first, and I stare blankly at his chest, aware of how heavily it rises and falls. I can’t bring myself to look up, but I know he feels the same intensity I do.

This is madness, and I can’t wrap my head around it.

I try to steady my breath, but then his firm fingers brush my cheek, guiding me to look up. "Look at me," he whispers softly.

I don’t want to. Not when my gaze could betray everything I’m feeling. But he persists, and finally, I muster the strength to meet his gaze.

I tremble, and I can’t hide it. That realization only annoys me more; my emotions are all over the place.

"You should go," I manage to say, turning my head away.

His touch disappears, but he doesn’t hurry to leave. I can feel his gaze on me, burning into my skin. My body betrays me again; I need to create distance between us.

I step back, needing to reclaim my personal space, to sort out what just happened and what it means.

"Alright, Milana. I’ll go," he says, almost as if it pains him to say it.

My lashes flutter as curiosity gets the better of me. But he shows no sign of guilt or remorse. Instead, he strokes his jawline thoughtfully, then turns to leave.

He opens the door but pauses, turning back to me with a serious tone. "Lock it, Milana. And make sure I hear it."

His blue gaze slides over my face, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. "Or I might think you want me to stay."

My tension breaks. I straighten up and blurt out without thinking, "Good night!" before rushing to the door and slamming it shut behind him. I lock it not once, but three times, leaning against the door as I catch my breath.

"What just happened?"