Chapter 14
935 Words
Chapter 14: Just Us
The late afternoon sun reflected against the glass walls of the building as Monica stepped out of the elevator, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Another long day.
Meetings. Decisions. Expectations.
She had handled everything perfectly—
but it was exhausting.
“Ma’am, your car is ready,” her assistant said.
Monica shook her head lightly. “It’s fine. I’ll head out myself.”
She stepped outside—
and paused.
Leaning casually against a sleek black car, hands in his pockets, was Kian.
Like he had been waiting for a while.
Like he didn’t mind at all.
“Kian?” she said, surprised.
He straightened, a small smile forming. “Took you long enough.”
Her lips curved despite herself. “What are you doing here?”
“Picking you up.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know,” he said simply. “I wanted to.”
The drive was quiet.
Not heavy—
just easy.
Comfortable.
Monica leaned back in her seat, stealing glances at him. Kian drove with calm focus, but every now and then, his eyes flicked toward her.
“Tired?” he asked.
“A little.”
“You don’t look it.”
“That’s because I’m good at pretending.”
Kian glanced at her briefly. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”
Her expression softened.
“I know.”
By the time they reached her condo, the city had already lit up.
Monica stepped out, waiting by the entrance.
“You coming up?” she asked casually.
Kian smirked. “Was that an invitation?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
“Too late.”
Inside, the condo was quiet.
Peaceful.
A contrast to everything outside.
Monica slipped off her heels, exhaling softly as the weight of the day began to fall away.
Kian watched her from a few steps away. “That bad?”
“Just… a lot.”
He stepped closer.
“Then let it go.”
She looked up at him. “And how do I do that?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead—
he reached for her.
Slow.
Gentle.
His hand brushing against hers, then holding it, grounding her before pulling her just a little closer.
“Like that,” he said quietly.
Monica leaned into him, her shoulders relaxing as his arms wrapped around her.
Not tight.
Not overwhelming.
Just enough.
“You don’t have to carry everything,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes briefly. “I’m just used to it.”
“Then get used to this instead.”
A small smile appeared on her lips.
She pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.
“Stay tonight,” she said.
Simple.
Honest.
Kian didn’t hesitate. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”
The air shifted.
Warmer.
Quieter.
Different.
Kian’s hand lingered at her waist, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of her top—slow, absent… but enough to make her breath catch.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured.
Monica didn’t answer.
Instead, she stepped closer.
That was all it took.
The kiss came naturally.
Soft at first.
Careful.
Like they were still learning each other in this new space.
Kian didn’t rush—his hand moved gently along her back, steady, grounding, while Monica’s fingers curled lightly into his shirt.
Then—
it deepened.
Not sudden.
But certain.
Monica exhaled softly against him, a quiet sound slipping out before she could stop it.
Kian stilled for half a second, his eyes searching hers—
then continued.
Slower.
More intentional.
His hand traced lightly along her side, pulling her closer.
Monica leaned into him fully now, her hands sliding to his shoulders, holding on.
The distance between them disappeared.
Breath mixing.
Warmth building.
“Kian…” she whispered.
He paused just enough. “You okay?”
She nodded, her voice softer now, unsteady in a way she didn’t hide.
“Don’t stop.”
That was all he needed.
The kiss deepened again—still controlled, still careful, but no longer hesitant.
His hand settled at her back, keeping her close, while hers tightened slightly against him.
Another soft sound escaped her—quiet, but real.
And this time—
he didn’t stop.
Time blurred.
Not because it moved fast—
but because neither of them cared about it anymore.
Only the moment.
The closeness.
The way everything felt right.
When they finally pulled apart, it wasn’t from distance—
but from needing air.
Monica rested her forehead against his, eyes closed, her breathing uneven.
Kian stayed close, his hand still at her waist, his thumb brushing gently, steadying her.
“You’re dangerous,” she murmured.
He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh. “You told me not to stop.”
She smiled faintly. “I know.”
When they moved to the bedroom, it wasn’t rushed.
Everything about the night stayed the same—
slow.
Intentional.
Real.
The world outside faded, leaving only quiet breaths, soft movements, and the warmth of being close.
Later, Monica lay against him, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
Kian’s fingers traced slow, calming patterns along her arm.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
They didn’t need to.
“I love you,” Monica whispered softly.
Kian’s hand moved gently to her cheek.
“I love you too.”
Outside, the city never stopped.
But inside—
everything slowed.
For one night—
there were no expectations.
No pressure.
No world waiting for them.
Just—
them.
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