BOUND BY OBSESSION

HERMIONE

The restaurant buzzes with the quiet murmur of distant conversations, but all I hear is the thudding of my own heart in my chest. Dylan's eyes are locked on mine, intense, steady, unyielding. I've said my piece—shared my fears, my insecurities—and yet, he remains unmoved. His silence is not a rejection; it's a promise. And that scares me more than anything.

He reaches across the table, his hand coming to rest over mine. The warmth of his touch spreads like wildfire, and I try to pull back, but he doesn't let me.

"I get it," he says, his voice soft but firm, a contrast to the hunger I feel lurking beneath. "You've been hurt. Someone used their power over you before, and it broke you in ways I can't even imagine. But I'm not him, Hermione. I'm not here to hurt you. I'm here to hold you. Protect you. All I want is you—completely, wholly, as you are."

His words are a balm to the raw, exposed parts of me. But there's still that voice in the back of my head, whispering warnings.

I meet his gaze, and for the first time tonight, I let myself truly hear him. "But how do I know, Dylan? How do I know this won't become just another way for someone to control me?"

He leans in, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "Because I don't need to control you, Hermione. I just want to be with you. The rest? It'll fall into place."

I want to believe him. I need to believe him. I feel my walls begin to crack, just a little. But I can't rush this—not with him. Not with anyone.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything in my chest. The desire. The fear. The uncertainty. But, at this moment, I feel something else too—something stronger than all of it.

"I don't know what this is between us," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't deny that I'm feeling it. And I don't want to keep running from it."

Dylan's eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he might lean over and kiss me then and there, but he doesn't. He just watches me with that consuming gaze, as if seeing every part of me—past, present, and future.

His voice breaks the silence, low and steady, cutting through the thoughts spinning in my mind.

"I need to know something," he says, his gaze unwavering.

I feel a shift in the atmosphere. It's not the casual conversation we've been having. This is different. I brace myself, but his next words still take me by surprise.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He leans forward slightly, his expression intense. "Do you want to be in a real, romantic relationship with me?"

The question hangs in the air like a weight I'm suddenly afraid to carry. My breath catches in my throat. I wasn't expecting this—at least, not like this. I'm not sure what I expect anymore when it comes to Dylan. He's unpredictable. Powerful. So sure of himself. But now, in front of me, he's vulnerable in a way I didn't anticipate.

His gaze searches mine, waiting for a response, and I can feel the pressure mounting.

I want to say yes. God, I want to. I can feel it—the pull between us, stronger than anything I've felt before. But there's something holding me back, something deep inside of me that refuses to let go, that's terrified of what will happen if I do.

I think of my past—my former boss, the manipulation, the power games. I think of how I ran away from that, how I promised myself I would never let anyone control me like that again.

But Dylan isn't him. He's not. I remind myself of that, but it doesn't make the decision any easier.

I swallow hard, searching for the right words. The right answer. "I do," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. But it's the truth. I want him. Despite everything. Despite the fear.

His eyes light up, and I can see the relief in them, as if he's been holding his breath waiting for me to say those words. He leans across the table, his hand reaching for mine, his touch warm and reassuring.

"I've been patient," he says, his voice soft but firm. "But I'm done waiting, Hermione. I don't want to waste any more time. I want you—all of you. No more second-guessing. No more hesitation."

I feel the heat rush to my cheeks at his words. There's a weight to them that makes my heart race, but also a sense of peace, like this is the beginning of something real. Something I didn't think I was ready for, but now... now it feels right.

"I'm all in, too, Dylan," I reply, my voice stronger this time. I've never meant anything more in my life.

His smile is slow, almost predatory, and I see the hunger in his eyes. I can feel it, too—deep in my chest, in the pit of my stomach. It's more than just attraction now. It's something deeper, something consuming.

"I'll never hurt you, Hermione," he says, his thumb tracing over the back of my hand. "I'll never treat you like he did. I'm not here to control you. I'm here to love you, protect you."

I can't help but believe him. Every word. Every promise. There's no doubt in my mind that he's telling the truth. But still, the fear lingers, just a little.

"I trust you," I whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

Dylan's eyes darken, his gaze never leaving mine. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm here for the long haul, Hermione. And I'm going to make you believe it."

I feel a shiver run down my spine at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension. But it's the truth. He's not letting me go, not now. And somehow, I'm not sure I want him to.

I pull my hand away, but the warmth of his touch lingers on my skin. "I hope I don't regret following my mind," I say softly, the weight of the moment settling over us both.

Dylan chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound. "You won't, Hermione. I promise you, you won't."

The air between us shifts then. The tension that had once been unbearable now feels different—almost comforting, as if we've finally crossed some invisible line. We talk more, lighter now, about things I never thought I'd share with him, about the future, about who we are outside of the roles we play at work. And as we do, I feel myself letting go, piece by piece, of the armor I've built so carefully around myself.

When the meal ends, Dylan stands, offering me his hand. I take it, and we leave the restaurant together.

The car ride back to my apartment is quiet, but not awkward. It feels... right. I find myself stealing glances at Dylan as we drive, my mind still reeling from everything that's happened tonight. The things he's said. The way he looks at me. The way he makes me feel.

As we pull up to my building, Dylan slows the car and parks, his hand lingering on the gear shift. He turns to me, his expression unreadable, but there's something in his eyes—something that tells me he's not ready to let go just yet.

"I'll walk you up," he says, voice low.

I hesitate. There's a part of me that wants to say no—wants to keep the distance between us for just a little longer. But then I remember what I've just admitted to him, what I've just allowed myself to feel. I'm done running.

I nod, and we both get out of the car.

As we stand outside my apartment door, the air between us is electric. Dylan reaches for my face, his thumb gently brushing over my cheek. He leans in slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away if I want to, but I don't. Instead, I close the gap, meeting him halfway. His lips are soft, tentative at first, as though waiting for me to pull back, but when I don't, he deepens the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me closer.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, as if he's savoring every moment, every inch of me. It's everything I didn't know I needed, and yet I feel the world slip away in his arms. There's nothing but him, nothing but the press of his lips against mine and the steady rhythm of our hearts.

When we finally pull apart, my breath comes in short bursts, and I'm a little unsteady on my feet.

Dylan smiles at me, the kind of smile that makes my insides flip. "Good night, Hermione," he says, his voice soft, almost reverent. "I'll see you soon."

I nod, feeling a wave of warmth wash over me. "Good night, Dylan."

He leans in one more time, his lips brushing my forehead in the gentlest kiss, as if I were something fragile, something precious.

And as I watch him walk away, I can't help but wonder if this is the beginning of something I never expected, something I'm not sure I'm ready for, but something I can no longer deny.