*Chapter 6: His Touches*
690 Words
*Elena*
Sunday night the tower felt empty in a way that had nothing to do with people.
She hadn’t planned to come. She’d spent all day trying to. Lectures she didn’t attend. Josh’s texts she didn’t answer. The photo Damian sent her was still in her bag, folded in half.
But at 5:58 PM she was standing outside his office anyway.
The door was open. He was at the window, sleeves rolled, looking out at the rain. He didn’t turn when she stepped in.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you?”
She didn’t answer. Because the truth was ugly. Because if she said it out loud, she couldn’t take it back.
He turned then. His eyes dragged over her, once. Black dress. Hair down. She’d told herself it meant nothing.
“You’re not working tonight,” he said.
“I’m not your intern tonight.”
He went still. Then he closed the door behind her.
“That’s not how this works,” he said.
“Then tell me how it works.”
He didn’t. He just looked at her like he was counting all the reasons not to.
“You’re twenty-one,” he said. “I’m thirty-five. You have a life to go back to.”
“Stop deciding it for me.”
He crossed the room in two steps. Close enough that she could smell his cologne, the same one from Friday night. His hand lifted to her face and stopped.
“Say no,” he said. His voice was rough. “Say it now, Elena.”
She couldn’t.
His thumb brushed her jaw. She didn’t move away.
“Elena,” he said, like it hurt.
Her hands found his shirt.
He kissed her like he’d been holding his breath for a week. Hard. Possessive. His hand in her hair, keeping her there. When he pulled back his forehead was against hers and he was breathing like he’d run.
“This ends you,” he said. “Everything. If we do this—”
“I know.”
He didn’t ask twice.
*Damian*
She wasn’t supposed to be here.
He’d told the driver not to pick her up. He’d told himself not to look at his phone.
And then she walked into his office at 6 PM wearing that dress, and every rule he’d written for her went up in smoke.
She was too young. Too bright. She had a boyfriend who probably still thought she was studying in the library. He was old enough to know better.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, because someone had to.
Her answer gutted him. “I know.”
God. The way she said it. Like she hated herself for it.
He turned. She looked different out of the office light. Softer. Angrier. She wasn’t afraid of him tonight.
“I’m not your intern tonight.”
No. She wasn’t.
He closed the door because if anyone saw this, he was finished. Because if she left now, he might survive it.
“You’re twenty-one,” he said. It sounded like an excuse even to him. “I’m thirty-five.”
“Stop deciding it for me.”
She always did that. Threw his control back in his face.
His hand was on her jaw before he gave himself permission. Skin warm. Pulse fast under his thumb. She should’ve flinched. She didn’t.
“Say no,” he told her. He meant it. He would walk away if she did.
She didn’t.
When she touched his shirt, his c**k became hard and she could feel it on her.
He kissed her because not kissing her felt like drowning. She tasted like rain and defiance and something he had no right to want. She kissed him back like she was done pretending too.
He broke away because he had to. Forehead to hers. “This ends you. Campus. Josh. All of it.”
“I know.”
She did. And she stayed anyway.
He didn’t touch her again right away. He just looked at her. Twenty-one. His intern. The worst decision he’d ever make.
- Writer
