Between The Lines

CHAPTER TWO: The Red Pen

He didn’t speak.

Not at first.

Just one step forward, then another — slow, precise, as if every movement was calculated to test how fast I could forget my name.

And for a terrifying, delicious second… I did.

The elevator didn’t move. The lights didn’t flicker. It was like the universe had hit pause just for us.

“You didn’t press that button,” I said, voice barely steady.

Callum stopped in front of me, just a breath away. “No,” he murmured, “I didn’t.”

God help me.

He smelled like something expensive and masculine. Leather, citrus, and danger. His tie was slightly loosened. The stubble on his jaw looked like it had been grown just to tempt. His eyes? They were a shade of grey that made rules blur.

“Why are we stopped?” I asked.

“Maybe the universe wants to test us.”

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

I could hear my pulse in my ears. I was painfully aware of how close we were. Of how my body leaned toward him even when my mind screamed don’t.

“You’re my boss,” I whispered.

“And you’re my weakness,” he replied, just as quietly.

I sucked in a breath.

He reached up — slowly — and brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. His fingers were warm, and the touch was feather-light. But it scorched all the same.

“I’m not supposed to want this,” he said.

“I’m not supposed to let you,” I countered, even as my voice betrayed me.

His hand moved down, fingers grazing my jaw, stopping just beneath my chin. He tilted my face up until our eyes locked.

“You know what I hate, Ember?”

I shook my head.

“Red pens.”

I blinked. “Red pens?”

“They’re messy. Unforgiving. They mark every mistake, every slip... every breach of conduct.”

My mouth went dry.

Then his hand dropped — not away from me, but down... down to the waistline of my skirt.

“And yet,” he continued, voice a rasp now, “I’ve spent the last three months thinking about how I'd leave one on you.”

My breath caught. Heat pooled in places it had no business pooling.

“Say stop,” he murmured.

I should’ve. I wanted to.

But instead, I leaned in — and kissed him.

And Callum Hayes kissed me back like he’d been starving for it.

His hands gripped my hips, mine tangled in his hair. We backed into the elevator wall, lips clashing, bodies desperate. His mouth tasted like lust and power. His fingers curled into the hem of my blouse and tugged me closer, tighter, until we weren’t just crossing a line — we were obliterating it.

Somewhere far below us, the elevator finally started moving again.

But neither of us noticed.