When the lights flickered back on and the elevator hummed to life, neither of us moved.

“We’re not done,” he said.

I smiled.

“Not even close.”

The doors slid open, but neither of us stepped out.

People waited outside. I didn’t care.

His thumb brushed your jaw, tilting your face up. “Say the word,” he murmured. “I’ll walk away.”

I didn’t.

Instead, I grabbed his tie and pulled him back in. The second kiss was slower, deeper, filled with

everything you hadn’t said out loud.

When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“This changes things,” I whispered.

He smiled — not his usual confident smirk, but something softer. Real. “Good.”

I exited the elevator together, fingers brushing, neither of us ready to let go.

Later that night…

I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.

Then my phone buzzed.

Him: I can’t stop thinking about you.

I stared at the screen, heart racing.

I: Neither can I.

Seconds later, another message.

Him: Come over.

My pulse jumped.

I hesitated only long enough to grab my jacket.

When you opened your door, he was already there.

The look in his eyes said everything.

No words. Just the sound of the door closing, the space between us disappearing, his hands on

my waist like he’d memorized my shape already.

“You’re dangerous,” I whispered.

“So are you,” he replied.

This time, the kiss wasn’t rushed.

It was claimed.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel like I was losing control.

I felt like you were finally exactly where I was supposed to be.

The door closed behind him, and the world outside disappeared.

He cupped my face in his hands, studying me like he was memorizing every detail. “You’re real,”

he murmured. “You’re here.”

“So are you,” I whispered.

This time, the kiss was slow and deep, like he wasn’t in a rush to take — only to feel. His hands

slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melted into him, my heart racing, my breath unsteady.

The room felt warmer. Smaller. Like it existed only for the two of us.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying me toward the bed, my laughter soft against his lips. When he

laid me down, he hovered over me, eyes dark with emotion, not just desire.

“This isn’t just want,” he said quietly. “This is… something else.”

I reached up, pulling him closer. “Then don’t stop.”