The morning did not end with silence
It ended with a delicate touch.
Not the empty kind but the heavy, thoughtful kind that settles after something meaningful has happened and neither person knows which truth to speak first.
Eliora stood by the window later, wrapped in one of Alexander's shirts. It hung loosely on her frame, the sleeves too long, the scent unmistakably his. Outside, the city moved as if nothing had shifted overnight, as if two lives hadn't tilted dangerously close to something permanent.
Alexander watched her from across the room.
He was dressed now calm, composed, every trace of the intensity from earlier locked behind control but his eyes gave him away. They followed her every movement, every breath, as though he were memorizing her again in daylight.
"You're thinking too loudly," he said gently.
She turned, surprised. "Do I do that?"
"Yes," he replied. "Your eyes change when you're afraid."
That word made her still.
After that he dragged her closer and that was when everything started that morning
Alex moved first, his movements fluid and deliberate. She glided across the room, her silhouette a dark dance against the moonlit wall. Her eyes never left Alex, and the intensity of her gaze was a physical touch. She stopped close, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. "You're a fool," she whispered, her voice a velvet caress.
Alex, trapped by the magnetic pull of her presence, felt his defenses crumble. "Maybe," he rasped, his voice rough with a desire that burned like a fever. He reached for her, his hand tracing the curve of her cheek, and the world seemed to shrink to the space between them. He could taste the desperation in the air, the intoxicating mix of danger and need.
Eliora leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly as a shiver ran down her spine. When she opened them, her gaze was filled with a mixture of challenge and surrender. "Then prove it," she breathed, her voice a low command.
He needed no further invitation. He pulled her close, their bodies colliding with a force that mirrored the storm raging within them. The kiss was a collision, a desperate plea, a promise of the night to come. The world outside faded away as they were consumed by the intensity of their desires, their two souls becoming one.
He moved slowly licking her body and playing with her nipples and she left out a soft moan he knew she was enjoying it her entire body wants it after that he move down her thighs and touched her slowly
Then he put his fingers slowly into her p***y playing with it while she got wet and juicy he began to give her deep kisses he played with her with her p***y and thrust deeper into her p***y with his fingers while doing it he kept on looking directly into her eyes and all he could see in her eyes was eat me up!!
She couldn't handle it anymore she said softly
Baby please I want more!!!
He then gave her a kiss on her cheek and said we would take everything at a step you are still a newbie.
The intensity had gone down they were now reminded about what Emilia did.
A phone buzz broke the moment.
Alexander glanced at the screen—and his expression darkened.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Work," he replied. "Something I've been avoiding."
She knew that tone now. The one that belonged to the world he rarely showed her.
"The deal?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he said. "And Emilia."
Her name returned like a shadow.
"She's been talking," Alexander continued. "Asking questions she shouldn't know how to ask."
Eliora felt a chill. "About me?"
"About us."
He exhaled slowly. "I won't let her touch you. Not with words. Not with lies."
She reached for his hand instinctively.
"I don't want to be the reason your world gets messy," she said.
He squeezed her fingers firmly. "You are the reason I'm willing to clean it up."
They prepared to leave later that afternoon.
Not together but not apart either.
Alexander insisted on driving her himself. The ride was quiet, but not distant. His hand rested on the console between them, close enough that their fingers brushed occasionally, sending sparks neither commented on.
When they reached her place, he walked her to the door.
"Tonight," he said, "I'll be busy."
Her heart sank but she masked it quickly.
"But tomorrow," he continued, "I want to take you somewhere. Just us. No shadows. No secrets."
She searched his face. "Promise?"
He leaned in not for a kiss but for something deeper.
"I don't make promises I can't keep," he said. "Especially not to you."
As he walked away, Eliora felt it again—that pull. That invisible thread tightening rather than loosening with distance.
She didn't know it yet.
But the morning hadn't been the climax.
It had been the warning.
Because love like this never arrives quietly.
And it never goes uncontested.