Chapter Twelve: Under the Midnight Sky

The city stretched endlessly beneath them, a glittering sea of lights and shadows. The rooftop of Ayan’s high-rise was open to the night, the air crisp and heavy with the scent of jasmine from a nearby terrace garden. The stars above seemed to lean closer, as if even the heavens were curious about the fire between them.

Ayan leaned against the railing, pulling Saba close. “Let’s do something insane tonight,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

Her brow arched, amused. “Insane?”

“Up here,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Under the stars. I want to take you right here, with Vienna watching.”

Saba’s lips curved in a slow, wicked smile. “You’re mad,” she whispered, though her tone betrayed intrigue rather than rejection.

“That’s not a no,” Ayan teased, pressing his mouth to her neck, tasting the warmth of her skin. His hands slid down her sides, over the curve of her hips, tugging her closer until she could feel exactly how much he wanted her.

She let him touch, let him explore—but just as his fingers dipped lower, she twisted away with a laugh, stepping out of reach. “Patience, Ayan,” she chided, her eyes gleaming.

The chase began.

Every time he reached for her, she dodged, her robe slipping provocatively off her shoulder, exposing smooth skin that begged for his mouth. She circled him slowly, her bare feet light on the cool stone floor, her laughter echoing like a siren’s call. “Needy, aren’t you?” she teased, her voice dripping seduction.

Ayan followed, his body thrumming with hunger, his eyes dark with lust. “You’re cruel,” he growled. “You make me ache.”

She paused just long enough for him to catch her wrist, pulling her against the railing. His lips crashed onto hers, their kiss fierce, devouring. Her hands pressed against his chest, not to push him away but to tease him, resisting just enough to make him work harder, kiss deeper, touch rougher.

“I love making you beg,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lower lip.

“Then you’ll love this,” Ayan rasped. In one swift move, he lifted her onto the railing, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. The silk of her dress bunched up, baring her thighs to the night. She gasped as his hands slid under the fabric, caressing boldly, urgently.

Saba’s laughter melted into a moan, her playful resistance cracking as his touch grew more insistent. She arched into him, her breath quickening, her body betraying its hunger. “Damn you,” she whispered, clutching his shoulders. “You don’t fight fair.”

“And you don’t play fair,” he countered, thrusting forward just enough to make her shudder. “But I’m not stopping.”

The city lights flickered below them, forgotten, as their bodies collided in a rhythm both primal and ****. She teased him even in the throes of passion, pulling back only to draw him in harder, whispering wicked things that made his control snap. Every dodge, every laugh, every sultry look only made him pound into her with more fervor.

Finally, her playful resistance gave way to surrender. Her moans rose into the night, mingling with his growls, the sound of flesh against flesh echoing across the rooftop. The cool night air wrapped around their fevered bodies, the stars bearing witness as passion claimed them whole.

When release finally came, it was fierce, overwhelming—a crash of waves breaking against stone, leaving them trembling, clinging, gasping into each other’s mouths.

Saba collapsed against him, her cheek pressed to his shoulder, her breath still ragged. “Mad,” she murmured, lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile. “Completely mad.”

Ayan kissed the top of her head, grinning like a man unrepentant. “And you love it.”

Her laugh was soft, sultry, and wholly surrendered. “I do.”

And under the midnight sky, with the city spread out beneath them, their madness felt like the purest truth.