At first, she kept her distance. He was attractive, yes, but she had rules—lines she swore never to cross. Then she saw the ring, noticed the quiet gestures that marked him as someone already claimed. And in that instant, the ground shifted. Instead of creating distance, the knowledge made her want him more. Her resistance, once firm, began to unravel the moment she realized he wasn’t free.
She tried to rationalize it—telling herself it was curiosity, not desire. But each time he spoke, the fact that he belonged to someone else made his words heavier, more intoxicating. The ring on his hand wasn’t a barrier; it was a spark that lit her hunger faster than she could smother it. Resistance, once a shield, became paper-thin. Every glance, every accidental brush of contact, burned hotter, feeding the fire that was already consuming her.
By the time he leaned close enough for their shoulders to touch, she wasn’t resisting anymore. She told herself it was inevitable—that something forbidden always tastes sweeter. What once had been her line in the sand dissolved in a heartbeat. The truth was undeniable: the moment she knew he was taken was the same moment she decided to give in.