Marcel

After the meeting, getting back into the elevator is just as scary as it was earlier when it jammed on us.

I step inside and hold my breath, pretending to be brave, even though my palms are sweating and my knees feel wobbly. Lori, of course, doesn’t make it any easier. She hasn’t stopped boring a hole into the side of my face since the meeting started.

It was hard to focus with her staring at me like that, but I managed to pull through. So yay to me, I guess.

The elevator jolts to a stop, and I quickly smooth my shirt, forcing my breath to slow.

My heart is pounding—maybe from the kiss earlier, maybe from the way the elevator moves without warning. I’m not sure which.

What I do know is that I refuse to look at Lori. I can’t.

Not yet.

When the doors slide open with a soft chime, I step out into the lobby, feeling like I’ve escaped some kind of trap.

Lori follows, and we both pause just outside the elevator, neither of us making a move toward the exit.

I finally give in and glance at her. She’s already looking at me.

Her lips curve into this small, knowing smile, and it’s infuriating how smug she can look without even trying.

I feel the corners of my mouth twitch despite myself.

We don’t say anything.

We don’t need to.

When we step outside, the cool air hits me, and I take a deep breath, trying to clear the storm in my head. But it doesn’t help.

The kiss is still there—on my lips, in my mind, buzzing through my entire body like a live wire.

Lori raises a hand and hails a cab with an ease I’ve never managed to master.

The cab pulls up, and she opens the door, holding it for me. I hesitate for half a second before sliding inside.

She follows, and when our knees brush, I swear I feel it everywhere.

It’s subtle, probably unintentional, but it sends this jolt through me like she’s flipped some kind of switch I didn’t know I had.

She leans forward to give the driver her address, her voice calm and steady, and I realize what’s happening.

What’s about to happen.

I know exactly where this night is headed.

The city blurs past the window, streaks of light reflected on the glass. Neither of us says anything, but the silence feels thick, almost suffocating.

My mind races with a million thoughts—what this means, what it could ruin, what it might become. But all those questions seem to shrink in the face of Lori’s hand brushing against mine on the seat.

When we get to her building, she pays the driver without missing a beat and steps out, holding the door for me again.

Her little gestures. They always get to me, and I hate how easily I let them.

I follow her inside, my steps slower than hers, like I’m walking into something I’m not ready for but don’t want to stop.

The tension between us fills the small space in the staircase, pressing in on me, making it hard to breathe.

At her door, she unlocks it with a flick of her wrist, stepping aside to let me in first.

The air inside her apartment feels different—warm and intimate, like I’m intruding on a part of her life I was never meant to see. But I've been here before, why does it all feel strange?

When the door closes behind us, I turn, and she’s leaning back against it, watching me.

Her gaze is fire and worry at the same time.

“So,” she says, her is voice low, “here we are.”

I swallow past my dry my throat. “Here we are,” I manage, though it comes out quieter.

She takes a step toward me, then another, until she’s standing so close I can feel the heat coming off her. My pulse is racing.

“Tell me if this is a mistake,” she whispers in a raspy voice that makes my heart sinks.

Her eyes are actively searching mine and I think I might actually find the words to stop this.

But I don’t.

Instead, I close the distance between us, my lips finding hers like they’ve been waiting for this moment longer than I care to admit.

God, I've wanted to do this for weeks now!

The kiss is slower this time, less rushed, but just as intense. Her hands find my waist and tug, pulling me closer.

I melt into her, my fingers threading through her hair to the nape of her neck.

Somehow, we stumble our way to the couch, tripping over shoes and jackets.

I couldn’t care less.

All I care about is the way she feels, the way she tastes, the way her hands seem to know exactly how to hold me.

We collapse onto the cushions, and she pulls me into her lap. For once, I don’t fight it. I don’t care about control or what this means tomorrow. I just let myself feel.

Her hands trail up my back, sending shivers down my spine. I let out a sound I don’t recognize as my own, and she smiles against my lips, a low, breathless laugh that makes my heart ache.

I'm grinding on her hips, I'm kissing her, she is touching me everywhere and suddenly, the clothes are just too much of a barrier.

In a second, they're off, in another she is doing something to me that makes my back arch and my head swirl.

In the next twenty minutes, she is doing the same and we are both on the verge of sweet ecstasy.

When we finally orgasm, I press a kiss on her lips, our foreheads touching.

“You’re going to ruin me,” she murmurs, her breaths in puffs.

I laugh softly, my fingers brushing her jaw. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

She shakes her head, her hands still firm on my hips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her words send another flush to my cheeks, but I don’t look away. I don’t hide. “Maybe I’m starting to.”

She leans in, pressing a softer kiss to my lips before pulling back. “We don’t have to rush this,” she says quietly.

I hesitate, my thumb tracing circles on her shoulder. “What if I don’t want to wait?”

Her smile widens, her eyes lighting up with something I can’t quite name. “Then I guess I’ll just have to keep up.”