THE VELOCITY OF FRICTION

CHAPTER 2 THE SAFE HOUSE

The elevator plummeted toward the parking garage, the silence between them heavy enough to choke on. Spencer’s hand was still wrapped firmly around Elena’s wrist—not a restraint, but a tether. The heat from his palm seeped through her skin, a reminder of the friction that had nearly ignited in the office.

"You're shaking," Spencer noted, his voice dropping an octave as the floor numbers blurred on the digital display.

"It’s adrenaline," Elena snapped, though she didn't pull away. "You just told me your client has a hit squad currently bypassing your security. Forgive me if I’m not as icy as you are."

The doors slid open with a soft chime. The garage was a cavern of concrete and shadows, smelling of damp tyres and gasoline. Spencer led her toward a matte-black Audi, his movements hurried but precise.

"Get in," he commanded, opening the passenger door.

As Elena slid into the leather seat, she looked up at him. The overhead fluorescent lights caught the sharp angles of his face, the dark intensity in his eyes that suggested he was thinking about much more than just the exit route. For a second, he lingered, his hand resting on the roof of the car, leaning down until they were eye-to-eye.

"If we do this," Spencer said, his gaze dropping to her mouth, "there is no going back to your apartment. There is no calling your editor. You disappear until I say it’s safe. Do you understand?"

Elena reached out, her fingers brushing the silk of his tie, pulling him just an inch closer. The air between them was electric, thick with the scent of rain and a sudden, sharp hunger. "I stopped being safe the moment I walked into your office, Spencer. Just drive."

The drive out of the city was a blur of high-speed manoeuvres and Spencer’s silent, white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. He took backroads, doubling back twice to ensure no headlights followed them. They didn't speak, but the tension in the cabin was a living thing, coiled and waiting to snap.

They reached a secluded glass-and-steel house tucked into the treeline of the Cascades. It was cold, modern, and isolated.

Once inside, Spencer didn't turn on the lights. The moonlight filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long, blue shadows across the hardwood. He stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it onto a chair, and began unbuttoning his cuffs with a restless energy.

"Why here?" Elena asked, her voice echoing in the space. She kicked off her heels, the cold floor grounding her.

"It's off the grid. No digital footprint," Spencer said, turning to face her. He looked unravelled—the tie was gone, his top buttons undone, his hair dishevelled from the wind. He looked less like a fixer and more like a man who was losing his grip on his own rules.

Elena walked toward him, the silk of her dress whispering against her legs. She stopped in front of him, her presence a challenge. "You're terrified, aren't you? Not one of the men following us. Of this."

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart. Spencer let out a low, ragged exhale, his hands coming up to grip her waist, pulling her flush against him. The contact was a shock to the system—the softness of her curves meeting the hard lines of his body.

"I spent years building a wall, Elena," Spencer growled, his head dipping low so his lips grazed her neck. "And you just walked right through the front door."

His hands slid down to the small of her back, pressing her closer until there was no space left between them. The professional veneer was gone, replaced by a raw, visceral need that had been simmering since the moment they met.

"Show me," she whispered, her hands sliding into his hair, pulling him down. "Show me what happens when you finally break."

Spencer didn't hesitate this time. He claimed her mouth in a kiss that was desperate and demanding, a collision of teeth and tongue that tasted like bourbon and dark promises. He backed her against the cool glass of the window, his body pinning hers, the heat between them blooming into a wildfire that neither was prepared to put out.

How should the night evolve? Does Spencer reveal a secret about his past during their intimate moment that changes how Elena sees him?

Does the sound of a vehicle approaching the driveway cut their tension short, forcing them into a high-stakes hiding spot?