Private Room – Palace Hall, Late Night (continued)
I swallowed hard.
His words lingered in the space between us like smoke—thick, inescapable.
Bai Long's eyes bore into mine, dark and unreadable. The silence stretched, wrapped tight around my chest.
> "You're unbelievable," I whispered, my voice trembling somewhere between anger and disbelief.
> "And you're still stalling," he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling.
I took a half-step back, but his hand reached out—not forcefully this time, just brushing my wrist, feather-light.
> "You don't have to mean it," he said, voice softer now. "Just a kiss."
> "And what if I don't want to?" I challenged, raising my chin.
> "Then walk away," he said simply, his voice suddenly serious. "There's the door."
His gaze didn't leave mine.
And that—that—infuriated me more than the dare itself. He wasn't playing anymore. He wasn't trying to win. He was just… waiting.
I hated that my heart thundered like it was preparing to leap. Hated that my feet didn't move toward the door. Hated that I was still standing there, staring at him like—
I leaned in fast—angry, impulsive—and pressed my lips to his.
It was brief. Soft.
Too soft.
But before I could pull away, he kissed me back.
Not teasing. Not rough.
It was a slow, lingering pull, like he was trying to memorize the moment. My breath caught in my throat. The warmth of his lips, the gentle press of his fingers at my waist—
It scared me.
I broke it first.
Stepping back like I'd touched fire.
> "There," I said, my voice shaky. "Happy?"
He didn't reply right away. He was still watching me, his expression unreadable now—like the mask had slipped.
> "No," he said at last. "But I'll take it."
That shook me more than the kiss.
> "You shouldn't play with people like this," I said, my voice low.
> "I wasn't playing," he replied. "That's the problem."
The silence between us pressed in again—this time, heavier.
And I couldn't bear it.
I turned and walked to the door, my hand hovering on the handle.
> "Good night, Crown Prince," I said without looking back.
> "Good night… wife-to-be," he called softly.
I didn't answer.
Just stepped into the empty hallway, closed the door behind me, and leaned back against it.
My fingers trembled.
My lips still burned.
And somewhere deep inside, a dangerous question began to rise:
What if I kissed him again—not because of a dare… but because I wanted to?