ＤＥＳＩＲＥＥ

His lips were warm and slightly chapped, and his taste was faintly sweet, like the lingering traces of mint or something softer, subtler.

Maybe it was just him.

He seemed to savor the moment, his lips exploring mine with unhurried precision.

He teased my lower lip, biting and sucking gently, before shifting his attention to my upper lip.

A quiet hum escaped me as his teeth grazed my skin, sending a ripple of heat down my spine.

Then, I felt his tongue coaxing my lips to part. The slick sensation sparked a jolt of unfamiliar but not unwelcome anticipation.

His hands on my lower back pulled me even closer to him than I already was, the strength of his hold grounding and electrifying all at once.

As I gasped, his tongue slid into my mouth, exploring tentatively at first, then more boldly.

It was a dance, uncharted yet instinctive, a harmony of movement that was both exhilarating and enchanting.

I could feel the slight scratch of stubble brushing against my skin, a contrast to the softness of his lips.

The woodsy hint of his cologne mingled with the clean scent of soap, invading my senses and leaving me dizzy, craving more.

His hands shifted, one spreading possessively across my back while the other moved upward, his fingers tangling in my hair.

The way he tilted my head to deepen the kiss sent a shiver through me, and I made a sound I didn't even know I was capable of.

This was more than just a kiss—it was an unspoken confession, a bridge between two guarded hearts.

At that moment, I wasn't sure if I was lost in him or if I'd finally found myself.

Not even a minute passed before a sudden ringtone shattered the quiet.

My heart was still pounding as I glanced at my phone.

The name on the screen made my stomach drop. Mr. Moso.

"Shoot!" I hissed under my breath, quickly pulling away from Wallace's arms. The warmth of his embrace slipped away too fast.

My hands fumbled with the phone, my fingers trembling slightly.

Wallace sighed softly.

Though I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze, I felt the intensity of his stare as I answered the call.

"Mr. Moso," I said quickly, my voice sharper than I intended, betraying the flustered edge I was trying to mask.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Wallace shift. His arms dropped to his sides as he looked down

His expression was unreadable, but there was a slight furrow in his brow, and his lips were pressed together in a way that tugged at something in me.

As I continued speaking to Mr. Moso, Wallace moved without a word, gathering my things—my books, my laptop bag, everything.

His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he was deep in thought, processing what had just happened between us.

"Yes, I'll be there in a minute. Thank you," I finally said, ending the call.

When I turned back to Wallace, he was standing there with my belongings in hand. He held my books in one arm, my laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

His posture seemed casual, but a quiet tension lingered in the way he stood.

I cleared my throat, trying to gather myself.

Reaching for my backpack, I avoided his gaze and moved toward the door.

Wallace was already there, holding it open for me like it was second nature.

We walked to the gate in silence, the weight of what had just happened filling the space between us.

My thoughts raced with a thousand questions, none of which I could put into words.

At the gate, Mr. Moso approached us briskly, taking my things from Wallace without a word and loading them into the car.

I took a deep breath, turning back to Wallace.

"Bye," I said softly, my voice quieter than I intended.

I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes, not with my cheeks still burning.

I started toward the car, eager to escape and collect myself.

But before I could step inside, his hand gently wrapped around my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

Wallace's touch was firm yet soft, and it made my breath hitch.

He turned me toward him, and before I could react, he leaned in and kissed me again.

It was quick, barely more than a brush of his lips against mine, but it sent my heart racing all over again.

A teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he pulled back, his eyes glinting with a playful confidence that left me breathless.

"See you on Monday," he murmured, his voice low and warm, before letting go of my hand.

I stood frozen, staring after him as he walked away, his steps calm and unhurried, as though he hadn't just stolen my breath for the second time that day.

My thoughts swirled in a whirlwind, and my heart felt like it might burst from my chest.

The sound of my driver clearing his throat snapped me back to reality. Flustered and embarrassed, I ducked into the car, letting the door close with a soft click.

As the car pulled away, I leaned back in my seat, trying to calm the storm inside me.

My lips still tingled from the kiss, and unspoken questions continued racing through my mind.

What had just happened between Wallace and me?

And how was I supposed to face him on Monday after this?

๋࣭ °࣪ ִ⭑․𓃠⭒˚.• ݁

I woke up earlier than usual that Saturday morning, the crisp scent of autumn wafting through my slightly open window.

Golden light filtered through the swaying orange and red leaves outside, casting playful patterns on my walls.

I stretched lazily in bed, feeling an uncharacteristic cheerfulness buzzing in my chest.

My thoughts drifted back to the kiss—our kiss.

Just the memory of Wallace's lips against mine made my cheeks flush and my stomach flutter.

I bit my lip to stifle a smile that threatened to bloom uncontrollably.

Was this what happiness felt like? Pure, unbridled happiness?

The autumn chill greeted me as I slipped out of bed, making me pull on a soft cardigan over my pajamas.

The mansion felt quieter as usual. The sweeping staircase with its ornate balustrade spiraled down into a grand foyer, its marble floors gleaming under the light streaming from the crystal chandelier above. The walls were lined with somber, oil-painted portraits of long-gone ancestors whose gazes seemed to follow my every move.

The vastness of the mansion always felt oppressive. Today, however, it didn't feel as daunting.

Instead, it felt like the perfect backdrop to my lighthearted mood. Even the somber portraits seemed less judgmental as I hummed my way to breakfast.

Humming! Me, humming! Even I could hardly believe it.

As I walked through the mansion, I greeted every staff member I passed with a chirpy "Good morning!"

Their responses ranged from hesitant nods to surprised smiles.

One maid even glanced around as if unsure I was speaking to her.

I couldn't blame them. This version of me wasn't exactly typical.

Breakfast was laid out neatly on the long table, the setting fit for a dozen guests even though it was only for me.

My mother's usual absence didn't bother me today.

Normally, I'd beeline for my spot at the head, dive into my notes, and eat mechanically while reviewing for the week ahead. But not this morning.

I sat alone at the head of the table, but instead of diving into my food, I found myself gazing out the tall windows.

Beyond the glass, the gardens stretched out in a riot of autumn colors, their vivid hues mirrored in the pond at the far end.

I picked at my breakfast absently, my mind drifting back to Wallace.

The way he had kissed me—tentative yet insistent—was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It had been unexpected, yet it felt so... right.

A dreamy smile tugged at my lips, and I quickly looked down at my plate, embarrassed even though no one was there to see.

By mid-morning, I was sprawled across my bed with an open book in hand, though I wasn't reading.

My eyes skimmed the same line over and over as my thoughts lingered on Wallace.

Why had he kissed me?

What had changed? Or, perhaps more importantly, what did it mean?

I clutched the book to my chest with a sigh.

It wasn't like me to let my guard down, but thinking about Wallace—the way he'd defended me, his easy confidence, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes even when he smirked—made my carefully constructed walls feel like papier-mâché.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of daydreams.

Normally, Saturdays were for studying or attending one of the events my mother insisted on. But today, I couldn't focus on anything academic.

Instead, I wandered through the mansion, aimlessly trailing my fingers along the polished wooden banisters and pausing to peer out the tall, arched windows. The estate, usually stifling in its grandeur, seemed almost beautiful today.

For the second time, the weight of expectations didn't press down on me, all because of Wallace. The ghost of his kiss lightened everything.

I ended up in the library, my favorite retreat within the mansion.

The room smelled of aged paper and leather, a comforting scent that usually calmed my restless mind. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the Persian rug and the towering shelves lined with books.

I curled up in one of the plush armchairs, a book in hand, but my thoughts kept returning to Wallace.

His sharp features softened by a smile, the way his dark eyes seemed to see right through me—it was all too vivid. I found myself smiling at the memory, my heart doing an odd little flip.

By mid-afternoon, I gave up on pretending to read and instead wandered out to the garden.

The cool breeze carried the earthy scent of fallen leaves and distant wood smoke. My footsteps crunched along the stone path as I admired the perfectly trimmed hedges and the kaleidoscope of autumn hues in the flowerbeds.

Pausing by the pond, I watched the wind ripple its surface, distorting the fiery treetops' reflection.

The mansion loomed behind me, its grand facade bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Its sheer size and opulence had always felt overwhelming, a physical representation of my mother's towering expectations.

But today, it didn't feel so heavy. Instead, it seemed to echo the warmth I felt inside, as though even its cold marble and stone walls couldn't quite contain my happiness.

As dusk fell, I returned to my room. The day had slipped away in a blur of thoughts about Wallace and the memory of his kiss.

Wallace had burrowed into my mind, and no amount of busywork could dislodge him.

I knew what was happening right now could only mean one thing...

I like Wallace.

So, I finally resigned myself to the fact that for today at least, I was hopelessly, utterly love-struck over him.

Lying in bed that night, I stared at the ornate canopy above me, tracing the intricate patterns in the fabric.

My fingers brushed against my lips and a faint smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

Wallace had somehow changed everything. And for once, I didn't mind at all.

☀༉‧

Hello lovables!! ✨

Wallace really out here stealing Desiree's breath, huh? (...and heart)

Now that she finally realized 😉 Is she ready to face whatever happens next?

Also, don't forget to remind our girl to keep her silent mode ON next time so Mr. Moso won't interrupt 😏

See you in the next chapter!

__melodyshhh 𓇢𓆸