You had a cold husband with a high temper.

It was an arrange marriage so you both don't speak much to each other,you hate eachother.

He never said lovey-dovey words to you, but he was always soft with his actions.

You and him? You've been at war since the day you met.

Arguments, insults, dirty looks it's practically your love language.

Except tonight, it's different. Because there's alcohol. Music. Heat. And not enough space between you.

You're leaning against the bar when he appears at your side, eyes sweeping over you in that way that makes your stomach twist.

"Nice dress," he says, voice dripping with mockery.

"Thanks. I bought it to piss you off," you fire back.

He smirks, leaning in close. "Baby, nothing you wear will stop me from thinking about what's underneath."

You freeze, pulse spiking. He notices.Before you can move, his hand slides around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"You hate me so much, right? So why are you shaking?"

You glare. "I'm not."

"Liar."

He bends down, lips brushing your ear.

"You can keep telling yoürself 'you don't want me... but we both know how this ends."

And just like that, he kisses you. Hard. Hungry. Like every fight you've had was just foreplay leading to this.

You hate that your hands fist in his shirt instead of pushing him away.

You hate that you're breathless when he pulls back, grinning like he's just won.

"Run from me all you want," he says, voice low. "I'll always catch γου."