The door didn't open all the way. It just sat there, cracked, waiting for one of us to make a move. My heart beat so loud it drowned out everything else—the night sounds, the hum of the AC, even the little voice in my head screaming that this was a terrible idea. But the part of me that ached for him was louder. I stood there like time had stopped, like if I stayed still enough, the truth wouldn't find me. But it already had. It was standing right there in the dark.
'You didn't say it,' he said again, voice low and sure, like he knew I wouldn't.
I swallowed hard, gripping the hem of his hoodie where it brushed the tops of my thighs. I hated that my legs felt weak. I hated that my skin felt too sensitive, like every inch of me knew he was just on the other side of the door.
'I don't know how to,' I whispered.
There was a pause. Then the door creaked again, slow and heavy, like the weight of the moment was pushing it open. And then he was there.
Kairo Steele.
Tall, sharp, dangerous. Dressed in black, his expression unreadable, eyes burning like he'd already decided how this night would end. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him without a sound. The click of the lock might as well have been a thunderclap.
My breath caught.
'You should go,' I said, even though my voice shook, even though I was lying.
He didn't move toward me. Not yet. He just watched me from where he stood, head tilted slightly, like he was giving me one last chance to walk away.
'You don't want me to.'
He was right. God help me, he was right.
I looked away, but that didn't help. I could still feel him. His presence was too loud, too thick. It pulled at me like gravity.
'Elijah—' I started.
'I don't care.'
'He'll hate us.'
'I already hate myself more for waiting this long.'
I turned to face him fully, and when I met his eyes, the heat there nearly knocked the breath from my chest. That was when he moved—slow, deliberate steps that echoed in my bones. He didn't touch me right away. He just stood close enough that I had to tilt my head to keep looking up at him. His scent wrapped around me like a spell. My knees felt useless.
'Say it,' he murmured.
I blinked. 'Say what?'
His eyes dropped to my mouth.
'That you want this. That you want me.'
I don't know what happened after that. Maybe I stopped thinking. Maybe my body made the decision before my brain could catch up. I reached for him—just lightly, fingertips brushing his wrist, the way a match brushes the edge of a flame.
'Kairo,' I said.
That was all. Just his name. But it was enough.
The way he grabbed my waist and pulled me to him told me he'd been holding back for too long. And now, finally, he didn't have to.