Chapter 10 – When the Walls Fall
427 Words
The rain started just as Elena stepped outside.
She hadn’t planned to stay after the auction, but her ride was delayed, and the streets were slick with neon reflections.
Behind her, footsteps approached.
“Your car’s not here yet?” Daniel’s voice was low, almost swallowed by the sound of the rain.
She shook her head. “It’s stuck in traffic.”
He hesitated. “I could give you a ride.”
She should have said no. She told herself she would.
But instead, she heard herself say, “Okay.”
---
His car was warm, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence between them. Neither spoke much on the drive.
When they reached her apartment building, she opened the door — and then stopped.
“Do you… want to come up?”
The words felt like a dare, and her pulse was a drumbeat in her ears.
Daniel’s jaw tightened, but he nodded.
---
Inside, the apartment smelled faintly of turpentine and rain. She flicked on a lamp, casting a warm pool of light over the living room.
They stood a few feet apart, neither making the first move.
Finally, Daniel said, “I missed you.”
It was almost a whisper, but it hit her like a wave.
Her throat felt tight. “I missed you too.”
That was all it took.
He crossed the space in two strides, cupping her face with hands that trembled just enough to betray him.
When his mouth found hers, it wasn’t tentative — it was hungry, urgent, the kind of kiss that says I’ve been starving for this.
---
They stumbled toward the couch, laughter and breath tangling together.
His jacket hit the floor. Her hands slid under his shirt, feeling the warmth of him, the way his muscles tensed under her touch.
But then he pulled back, searching her face. “Elena… if we do this, it’s not just tonight. I can’t— I don’t want something temporary.”
Her chest rose and fell. “I’m not asking for temporary.”
Relief flashed in his eyes, followed by something hotter.
---
The rest of the night was a blur of rain against the windows, the rustle of fabric, the sound of their names on each other’s lips.
It wasn’t rushed — it was slow, deliberate, as if they were memorizing each other all over again.
When it was over, they lay tangled together on the couch, the city lights spilling over them.
For the first time in weeks, neither felt the urge to run.
- Writer
