The Last Night

Emma’s POV

The night before graduation was supposed to be simple drinks with classmates, a few laughs, a toast to the years that flew by too quickly.

But I didn’t want simplicity. Not tonight.

I sat on the edge of the fountain outside the campus library, the stone cool beneath my bare thighs, my graduation robe pooled beside me. The moonlight bathed the stone pathways in silver, and yet, all I could think about was Killian.

This was our last night. The last time we’d be in this space. In this strange limbo between hate and lust. I should’ve been relieved. Instead, a quiet ache curled beneath my ribs.

When I saw him walking toward me, that familiar swagger in his step, hands shoved into his pockets, hair tousled from the wind, my heart thudded so hard I was afraid he’d hear it.

“You’re late,” I said, forcing the teasing lilt into my voice even though my throat was tight.

“I figured you’d wait,” he replied simply, eyes raking over me.

And God, I was already melting.

Killian’s POV

I should’ve left. Should’ve spent the night packing, preparing for a future that didn’t involve Emma Scott. But the idea of not seeing her tomorrow of not feeling her body pressed to mine after a brutal debate in class—made my gut twist.

She was sitting there like a goddess of chaos, legs bare, hair wild from the breeze, and for once, she wasn’t playing games.

No biting comments. No sarcastic digs. Just… quiet.

And it scared the hell out of me.

“Everyone’s at the bar,” I said, stepping closer.

“They’ll live,” she muttered, and then her eyes locked with mine. “This is the last night, Killian.”

“I know.”

Neither of us moved.

Then she whispered, “I don’t want to remember this university without one more memory.”

I didn’t need more invitation than that.

Emma’s POV

His hands were rough, greedy, like he was trying to imprint the shape of me into his palms. We stumbled into the library the same one we’d been locked in weeks ago and the door clicked shut behind us. The scent of old books and varnished wood filled the air, but it was overpowered by the heat crackling between us.

He kissed me like it was the last breath he’d ever take.

Our robes fell. Shirts ripped. Fingers shook.

He lifted me onto the front counter and spread my legs like he owned me, his mouth trailing down my throat, over the hollow between my breasts.

“I’m going to miss this,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

His hands froze on my thighs.

Killian’s POV

Miss this?

Did she mean my touch… or me?

The thought sent something raw slicing through my chest, but I didn’t dare ask. I buried myself in her instead, hoping she’d feel what I couldn’t say.

Every time I pushed inside her, she gasped like she was trying to hold onto something slipping away. Her nails scored my back, her mouth kissed me like she was branding my soul.

We didn’t stop after the first time.

Or the second.

We moved through the library on the leather chair in the reading nook, against the tall bookshelf in the philosophy section, and finally, sprawled on a rug beneath the stained-glass windows.

Each time, it was slower. More desperate.

Like we were trying to rewrite the inevitable.

Emma’s POV

The sun started to rise, golden light trickling through the old glass. I lay beside him, my head on his chest, our robes tangled together beneath us.

Neither of us spoke.

He played with my fingers, tracing each knuckle like he was memorizing them.

I wanted to tell him.

Tell him that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t just about sex. That maybe the fire between us wasn’t hate anymore. It was something worse. Something that made me vulnerable.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I whispered, “We’ll go back to our worlds now.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, tightening his grip on my hand.

The silence that followed was heavier than any climax we’d shared.

He didn’t say he wanted to see me again.

I didn’t ask.

Because this… whatever this was, it wasn’t supposed to exist beyond these stone walls.

But I think we both knew…

It wasn’t over.

Not even close.