Blooming in shadows

The mansion had finally settled into a quiet lull, the tension of the past few days momentarily giving them a brief reprieve. Benjamin sat in his private lounge, a glass of whiskey in his hand, but his focus wasn't on the amber liquid swirling in the crystal glass. It was on Clara, who stood by the balcony, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight.

Dressed in one of his oversized shirts, the fabric draping over her delicate frame, she looked effortlessly breathtaking. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, slightly tousled, and her bare legs were just enough to tease his control.

"You're staring," she murmured without turning, her fingers tracing patterns on the cool metal railing.

Benjamin smirked, setting his glass down. "Can you blame me?" He stood, making his way towards her with slow, deliberate steps. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, and when he finally reached her, his hands found her waist, pulling her against him.

Clara sucked in a breath, feeling his warmth engulf her. "Benjamin…"

He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You've been avoiding me, Clara," he murmured, his voice a deep, husky whisper. "Why?"

Her fingers clutched his shirt as she swallowed hard. "I wasn't avoiding you."

He hummed, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of the shirt she wore, tracing slow circles against her skin. "No? Then why do you run every time I get too close?"

Clara turned in his arms, her hands resting against his chest. "Because when you look at me like that, I forget how to breathe."

Benjamin's dark eyes flickered with something dangerous, something possessive. "Good."

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle. It was raw, searing, and utterly consuming. His lips moved against hers with a hunger that left her dizzy, his hands gripping her hips as he pressed her against the cool railing. Clara gasped against his mouth, and he took full advantage, deepening the kiss, making her melt into him.

When he pulled away, his lips hovered just above hers. "You're mine, Clara."

Her heart pounded. "I know."

He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her inside. The moonlight spilled through the open balcony doors, casting shadows over the room as he placed her on the bed. He hovered over her, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face.

"Say it," he demanded softly.

She met his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm yours, Benjamin."

His control snapped.

The night stretched long, filled with whispered confessions, stolen breaths, and the undeniable passion that burned between them.

And as Clara lay curled in his arms, exhausted and utterly sated, she realized something.

She didn't just belong to Benjamin.

He belonged to her too.