15: When Desire Wins

"Take your hands off her. Unless you want your face smashed in right here."

Zoren's voice was low, lethal, and dripping with pure rage. He gripped the stranger's wrist so hard his knuckles turned white.

But the man, drunk and arrogant, merely laughed and yanked his arm free. He stumbled back slightly, eyes narrowing as he squared up right in front of Zoren, their faces inches apart.

"And who the hell are you, huh?" the stranger slurred, breath reeking of alcohol. "She's here, she's dressed like that, dancing like she wants it—anyone can touch her. You think you own every woman in this club?"

Clara, standing between them, panicked. She could feel the tension rising thick and heavy in the air. She reached out, hands pressing against Zoren's chest, trying to push him back.

"Zoren, stop... Please, just let it go—he's drunk, he doesn't know what he's saying!" she pleaded, her voice tight with worry.

But neither man moved. The stranger leaned even closer, challenging him, a nasty smirk on his face. "Or what? You gonna hit me? You think you're tough—"

Before Clara could start a new sentence or pull them apart, the stranger threw a wild, clumsy punch straight at Zoren's jaw.

It missed slightly, grazing his cheek.

That was all it took.

Zoren didn't hesitate. Years of boxing training kicked in instantly. He ducked, shifted his weight, and landed a sharp, solid punch right to the man's jaw— clean, hard, and precise.

The stranger's eyes rolled back. He didn't even make a sound before his legs gave out and he crumpled to the floor, completely unconscious.

Two security guards rushed over immediately, grabbing the man by the arms to drag him away. One of them glanced at Zoren, nodding respectfully. "We'll take care of this bastard, Boss. Sorry about the trouble."

Zoren didn't even look at them. He stood there, chest heaving, breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps, his eyes never leaving Clara. His jaw was tight, his expression dark and stormy.

Clara stepped closer, her heart hammering— half from fear, half from something else entirely. She reached up, fingers gently touching the side of his face where the man had grazed him, then tracing down to his lower lip, which was already split and bleeding slightly.

"You have a bruise on your face," she said, her voice soft but sharp with irritation as she wiped the blood away with her thumb.

Zoren pulled his face away slightly, grunting dismissively. "This is nothing."

"Nothing?" Clara's voice rose, unable to hold back her frustration anymore. "You didn't have to be so brutal. He didn't even do anything to me, Zoren! He was just drunk— you could have just told him to leave!"

Zoren's eyes snapped to hers, cold and burning with intensity.

"That bastard was touching you without your consent," he bit out, every word sharp and heavy. "You think I would just let that pass? Let anyone touch you like that?"

"Zoren—"

"And honestly," he cut her off, his tone mocking, laced with irritation as his gaze swept over her outfit—the short skirt, the fitted blouse that showed warm skin. "What were you thinking in the first place? Coming here, wearing this… skimpy little dress, dancing like that. You practically invite every man here to look, to touch."

Clara felt her own temper flare up. She wanted to shout at him, to tell him he had no right to judge her, no right to act like he owned her. But she bit her tongue, aware of the crowd starting to stare and whisper around them. She grabbed his hand firmly, her grip tight with suppressed anger.

"Come on. To your VIP room. I need to clean that wound before you start another fight," she said through gritted teeth, pulling him along.

Zoren had no choice but to follow her, still seething, his long legs easily keeping up with her fast steps.

Clara remembered this place well— the VIP room he had taken her to before, the night everything changed between them. The door was unlocked, just as it had been then.

She pushed the door open, and warmth and soft light greeted them. It was spacious, elegant, with plush furniture and that quiet, private atmosphere. Memories flooded her mind instantly— how close they had been, the way he had looked at her, the kisses that had almost led them so much further. Her cheeks burned hot, but she forced herself to stay calm, shutting the door behind them to lock out the noise and the world outside.

Zoren walked straight to the bathroom to wash his face. When he came out, he found her exactly where she had been last time: sitting on the long red velvet sofa, waiting for him.

The moment he sat down, she moved closer, kneeling between his legs to get a better look. Her fingers went immediately to his jaw again, tilting his face toward the light to examine the cut on his lip. She pulled out alcohol wipes from her small bag— she always carried them, Zoren noticed again.

"Your lip is split open," she muttered, dabbing the wound carefully. "He must have hit you pretty hard."

Zoren snorted, wincing slightly but not pulling away. "That idiot doesn't know how to throw a proper punch. He just swings wildly. I barely felt it."

Clara fell silent as she cleaned and dressed the small injury, her touch gentle despite her annoyance. When she was done, she sat back slightly, looking him straight in the eye.

"Tell me something, Zoren," she asked seriously. "Is this how it's going to be now? Every time a man comes near me in a club, every time someone touches me, you're going to hurt them? Beat them up?"

Zoren didn't blink. He stared right back at her, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"If they are assholes who touch you without your consent… yes," he answered low and firm. "I will kill them all."

Clara rolled her eyes, standing up and pacing away, frustrated. "That is not how a lawyer speaks. You know better than this. And what will people think of us? Of you?"

Her mind drifted to Mikkel, his sweet little boy. And then to the memory that had haunted her— the reason she had pulled away, the reason she had tried so hard to keep her distance. Her chest tightened painfully.

"Whatever we had… whatever happened between us before… it was a mistake," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "And you should care what people say. You have a wife, Zoren. You have a son. You have a family to think about."

Zoren stood up abruptly, his expression shifting from anger to pure shock. He frowned deeply, stepping toward her.

"What did you just say?"

"Please, Zoren. Have some respect for your wife and son—"

"I don't have a wife, Clara."

His voice was calm, steady, and so clear it made her freeze in place. Her eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat.

"W-What?"

"I got divorced three years ago," Zoren said, walking closer until he stood right in front of her. "I have full custody of Mikkel. There is no wife. There hasn't been one for a long time."

Clara felt like the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She stared at him, unable to process what she was hearing.

"Is this the reason you've been so distant?" Zoren asked, his voice colder now, sharp with realization. "Is this why you always pull away? Because you thought I was married? That I was cheating on my wife by being with you?"

"I-I just thought… seeing you with Mikkel… I assumed…" Clara stammered, her mind racing.

"You think so lowly of me?" Zoren asked, his tone laced with hurt and frustration. "Do you really believe I am the kind of man who would kiss a woman passionately, hold her like I held you, want her the way I want you… while I still had a wife at home? I am not a cheater, Clara. I never have been."

Clara swallowed hard, shame washing over her. She looked down, unable to meet his intense gaze.

"You're right… I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick.

Clara's heart was beating wildly. Everything she thought she knew, every reason she had built to keep him away, had just crumbled to dust. She looked up at him again, and their eyes locked instantly.

Zoren took another step closer, closing the small gap between them. He stood so near she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of whiskey. He leaned down slightly, his head tilting as if inhaling the air around her neck.

He let out a low, rough sound— half groan, half sigh.

"God… that smell…" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Clara blinked, confused. "W-What? I'm not wearing any perfume."

Zoren's eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as he looked at her lips, then back to her eyes.

"I know," he whispered, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. "It's you. That sweet, soft vanilla scent… it's just you. It's been driving me crazy for weeks. It's in every dream I have. Every fantasy. I wake up smelling it, craving it… craving you ."

Before Clara could even form a thought, the tension snapped.

He crashed his lips onto hers— hard, hungry, and desperate.

Clara gasped, her hands instinctively flying up to grip his hair, pulling him closer. All the weeks of holding back, all the confusion, all the longing exploded inside her.

God, I missed this , her mind screamed as she melted against him. I missed his touch, his taste, the way he makes me feel so alive, so wanted, like I'm the only woman in the world.

She had spent so many years living only for others, forgetting what it felt like to be desired, to be worshipped. And now, with Zoren's mouth devouring hers, his hands roaming over her body, she realized just how starved she had been.

Zoren deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, claiming her completely. He moved his hands down to her waist, gripping her firmly, then slid them up her back, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly how much he wanted her—hard, heavy, and undeniable.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jawline, down to the sensitive skin of her neck, kissing and nipping gently, making her shiver and arch into him.

"Zoren…" she breathed out, weak and breathless. "This… this is still wrong. You're my boss…"

Zoren let out a low, guttural growl against her skin— a sound that vibrated right through her core. He didn't stop. Instead, his hands moved to the buttons of her blouse, fingers working quickly, undoing them one by one.

"You think I care about that right now?" he murmured against her neck, his voice thick with desire. "You think I care about anything except how much I want you?"

Clara's heart raced as he revealed more and more of her skin. When he reached the last button, he pulled the fabric open, exposing her black lace bra and the soft skin beneath.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes burning with raw lust and awe. He ran his gaze over her, from her flushed face down to her chest, his breathing ragged.

"Ah… fuck… you are so much more beautiful in reality than in my dreams," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "I've imagined this so many times. But nothing compares to the real thing."

Clara's cheeks flushed. "Y-You've imagined this?"

"Every fucking night," he admitted, his thumb tracing the edge of her bra. "Every night since I first saw you. I couldn't stop thinking about what you'd look like underneath all your clothes. What you'd sound like when I touched you."

His fingers found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it with practiced ease. He slid the straps down her arms, letting the garment fall away, exposing her breasts completely to his hungry gaze.

"God… look at you," he breathed, his eyes roaming over her. "You're so beautiful, Clara. Every inch of you. I want to memorize every part of you."

He lowered his head, taking one hard, sensitive nipple into his warm mouth, sucking gently, swirling his tongue around it. Clara cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her legs turning to jelly.

"Z-zoren-"

"Shh," he murmured against her skin, his lips moving to her other breast. "I want to taste all of you. I want to learn what makes you moan, what makes you gasp, what makes you lose control."

Clara's breath came in short, ragged gasps. "Y-you're going to drive me crazy, Zoren..."

"That's the goal." He looked up at her, his grey eyes dark and intense. "I want to drive you crazy. I want to be the only thing on your mind. The only thing you can think about."

His hands moved lower, pushing her short skirt up her thighs, sliding beneath the waistband of her panties. His fingers found her wet and ready, slick and hot just for him.

"Ahh you're so wet for me already," he murmured against her ear. "I love that. I love knowing that I do this to you. That I make you ache for me just as much as I ache for you."

Clara moaned, her head falling back. "Ahh Z-zoren, p-please…"

“Tell me, Clara,” His fingers teased her, moving in slow, torturous circles. “What do you want? Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you want this… and I will give you everything.”

"I-I want you," she gasped. "Please... I want all of you."

Hearing that Zoren pulled back slightly, standing up straight to look at her. He began to undress himself, unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside, then undoing his pants and pushing them down along with his underwear.

Clara swallowed hard, her eyes widening as she looked at him.

He was magnificent— broad shoulders, defined chest, strong arms, and a lean, hard stomach. But her gaze dropped lower, and her breath hitched. He was long, thick, and heavy, veins running along his length, standing proud and aching for her. He was perfect, every inch of him, and the sight made her mouth water and her heart race even faster.

He stepped closer again, naked and magnificent, and pulled her flush against him, skin to skin. She could feel the heat of him, the hardness of him pressing against her stomach.

"See what you do to me?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "See how much I want you? You do this to me, Clara. Only you."

They kissed again, deep and passionate, as he guided her backward toward the soft sofa. He laid her down gently, covering her body with his own, his weight pressing her into the cushions.

He kissed his way down her neck, between her breasts, down her stomach, over her hips, until he reached the waistband of her skirt and panties. He pulled them off in one smooth motion, leaving her completely bare beneath him.

"You are so fucking beautiful," he murmured against her skin, his voice raw. "Every inch of you. I could look at you forever."

He kissed down the inside of her thigh, slow and torturous, his breath hot against her sensitive skin.

"Tell me you want this again," he whispered. "Tell me you want me."

"I want you," Clara breathed. "I want this. I want everything."

He smiled against her thigh. "Good. Because I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to taste every part of you."

And then he buried his face between her legs. Clara cried out, her hands gripping the velvet cushions beneath her. His tongue was everywhere— teasing, tasting, devouring her like she was the most delicious thing he had ever experienced.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned against her skin. "So sweet. Like vanilla."

"Ahh Z-zoren—"

"I want to taste all of you," he murmured, his tongue tracing slow circles around her clit. "I want to feel you come undone on my tongue. I want to hear you scream my name."

His words, combined with the relentless motion of his tongue, sent her spiraling. She was so close, hovering on the edge of release.

"I-I'm going to—"

"Come for me," he commanded against her skin, the vibration sending shocks through her core. "Let me taste you. Let me feel you."

And she did.

Her release crashed over her like a wave, her body arching off the cushions as she cried out his name. He didn't stop. He kept tasting her, drawing out every last moment of her pleasure until she was trembling, breathless, completely undone.

He moved up her body, kissing her stomach, her chest, her neck, until he was hovering over her face again. He was hard and heavy, resting right at her entrance. He looked down at her, his eyes dark and satisfied.

"You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured. "I could watch you come apart forever."

Clara's cheeks flushed. "Zoren..."

"Shh." He kissed her softly, his lips gentle against hers. "We're not done yet. Not even close."

He kissed her deeply, his hand guiding himself to her entrance, ready to give her everything she had been missing… everything they had been waiting for.