I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 107: A Dangerous Addiction

The second Malvoria's lips met hers, Elysia forgot how to think.

She forgot why she had been teasing Malvoria in the first place, forgot the heat rising in her own face as she tried to pretend that the closeness of their bodies didn't make her breathless.

Forget that she was supposed to be resisting, pushing back, keeping her wits about her instead of letting herself be drawn into this ever-tightening spiral of need, of something dark and consuming.

Something that she had already tasted twice before and should have known by now was too dangerous to let happen again.

But gods, Malvoria knew how to kiss.

And it was devastating.

There was nothing soft about it, nothing hesitant or questioning; it was dominance incarnate, an unrelenting, all-consuming force that crashed into her like a storm, a demand rather than an invitation.

A promise of ruin wrapped in the velvet warmth of lips that moved with precision and hunger, a battle that she was already losing the moment she dared to respond.

Because she did respond.

Of course she did.

Her body betrayed her immediately, her fingers twitching against the sheets before they were moving on their own, grasping at Malvoria's cloak, at the firm muscles beneath it, curling into the fabric as if she could ground herself in the very thing that was setting her aflame.

Malvoria felt it—Elysia could tell by the way she hummed against her lips, something low and satisfied, something wicked, and then suddenly there were hands on her waist, gripping tight, fingers digging in just enough to send a sharp, thrilling jolt through her nerves as Malvoria pressed down.

Closing the last remaining distance between their bodies, heat to heat, breath to breath, heartbeat against heartbeat.

And then—gods, then—

Malvoria deepened the kiss, and Elysia felt herself fall apart.

A sharp inhale, a barely muffled whimper against Malvoria's lips, and then she was opening up, allowing it, surrendering to it, barely even realizing what she was doing before she felt the warm, firm slide of Malvoria's tongue against her own.

And it was too much.

Too much, too good, too intoxicating.

Malvoria was devouring her, claiming her, kissing her like she wanted to taste every part of her, like she wanted to steal the very breath from her lungs.

And Elysia had never—never—felt this way with anyone else, had never felt her body respond so helplessly, had never been kissed like this before Malvoria, before the Demon Queen had shattered all her carefully built defenses, before she had made her crave this kind of closeness, this kind of heat, this kind of...

No.

No, no, no.

This was a mistake.

It had been a mistake the first time.

And the second.

And now—now she was letting it happen again.

Elysia tried to pull away.

Tried to remember why she should.

Tried to remind herself that this woman was her enemy, that Malvoria was possessive and selfish and dangerous, that she had no business making Elysia feel like this, making her want this, making her body melt against her touch.

But Malvoria wasn't letting her go.

Her grip on Elysia's waist tightened, her weight pressed down harder, and before Elysia could even think of another excuse to stop, Malvoria was tilting her head, angling the kiss deeper, drowning her in it, swallowing the small, involuntary sounds that she was trying so desperately not to make.

Gods.

She was losing.

She was losing, she was losing, she was already lost.

Her fingers curled tighter, desperate, dragging Malvoria closer instead of pushing her away, betraying her own resolve as her body arched slightly into the contact, as heat coiled low in her stomach, as she felt the unmistakable hunger simmering beneath Malvoria's touch.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

This was everything she swore she wouldn't let happen again.

But the problem—the real problem—was that Malvoria knew that.

She knew exactly what she was doing, knew exactly how to touch her, how to kiss her, how to make Elysia forget every reason she had to say no.

She wasn't just kissing her—she was playing with her, teasing, testing, nipping at her bottom lip just to feel the way Elysia shivered in response, pulling away just enough to let the anticipation burn before diving back in, a deliberate game of push and pull that had Elysia's head spinning.

And she hated it.

She hated that Malvoria had this much control over her body, hated that she was letting herself fall into it so easily, hated that this woman could make her ache with nothing but a kiss.

And yet.

And yet.

Her grip didn't loosen.

Her lips didn't stop moving.

Her body didn't resist when Malvoria's hand slid higher, fingers brushing just beneath her ribs, an infuriating, teasing touch that wasn't nearly enough but sent her pulse skyrocketing anyway.

Elysia gasped against Malvoria's mouth, shocked by her own reaction, by the way she could already feel her entire body responding, heat flaring in places it shouldn't, in places Malvoria had already explored twice before and would no doubt explore again if she didn't put an end to this now.

And she had to.

She had to.

Because this was too much.

Because she was already drowning.

Because she couldn't let herself fall any deeper.

But Malvoria—damn her, damn her, damn her—was relentless.

And just when Elysia thought she might regain control, just when she started to lift her hands to shove her away instead of pull her in, just when she was about to force herself to say something, anything, before it was too late—

A knock.

A sharp, unexpected knock at the door.

Elysia froze.

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Malvoria went still.

Their lips were still connected, their breath still tangled, their bodies too close, too warm, too far gone—

And someone was at the door.

For a second, neither of them moved.

For a second, the only thing Elysia could hear was the ragged sound of her own breathing, the heavy silence that followed, the lingering heat in the space between them.

And then—

Another knock.

Louder this time.

More insistent.

Elysia's heart slammed against her ribs.

And Malvoria—

Malvoria growled.

A deep, frustrated, irritated sound, as if she were contemplating killing whoever dared interrupt them.

Elysia swallowed hard.

She was so close—too close—too much.

And now they had a choice to make.

Answer the door.

Or ignore it.

But either way—

This moment wasn't over.

Not by a long shot.