The kiss deepens by mutual, silent agreement. It’s soft and exploratory, not a fight but a dance. Something I’m not used to. I’m used to conquering and taking, but I get a feeling Bea doesn’t want either right now.
I’m breaking every rule I set for myself when I met her a year ago, every line I drew in the sand. But as her lips move against mine, all those rules seem trivial and distant. The hum of blood in my brain is all that remains.
When we finally pull away, the world doesn’t snap back into focus like I expect it to. Instead, it’s spanning off my axis, sending me wobbling into an uncertain orbit. Her forehead rests against mine, and for a heartbeat, I consider the possibility of redefiningnormalto accommodate this—us. I’ll erase every single line and boundary if she lets me.
But then she pulls back, breaking the spell with physical distance. The space between us gives me a sudden chill.
“We should go. You need to rest,” she whispers breathily, and I get a feeling she is probably affected by our kiss too. Though apparently not like me because there’s no way I would have been able to pull away.
“Yeah.” The word feels rough in my throat, and I clear it to be able to speak.
I start the car again, the engine’s rumble a harsh return to reality. We drive back in silence filled with the unspoken, the weight of our shared moment hanging between us heavier than I anticipated.
When I pull up outside her building, she doesn’t move at first, just sits there staring out the windshield. Finally, she turns to me, her expression unreadable.
“Thank you,” she says. Her worried eyes tell me she’s as torn up inside as I am.
She slowly unlatches the seatbelt after a long pause, clearly not knowing what to do. “Goodnight, Noah.”
“Night, Bea.” I watch her climb out of the car, gripping the steering wheel to keep my hands from reaching out to her and snatching her back, here, where her scent lingers long after she’s gone.
She doesn’t look back as she walks into her building, and something tightens painfully in my chest.
I sit in the car long after she disappears, the engine idling, the night deepening around me. My thoughts are a tangled mess, each one starting with Bea and ending in a question mark. What am I doing? This isn’t just about wanting someone anymore; it’s about wanting something more, something deeper that terrifies me because I know how much it could cost if it doesn’t work out.
Eventually, I drive home, my mind replaying every moment of tonight over and over like a film I can’t stop. The city blurs past, lights streaking through the darkness, but I barely see anyof it. My penthouse feels cold and empty when I finally get back, a stark contrast to the warmth of Bea’s presence.
I throw my keys on the counter and head straight for the shower, trying to wash off the ache that has settled deep in my bones. The water is hot, almost scalding, but it can’t burn away the feel of her lips on mine or the way my heart still races at the memory.
My phone rings when I step out of the shower. I sigh after glancing at the screen and pick it up.
“Hi, honey. Can you come over?”
38
Bea
I getnext to no sleep, and the next morning my head feels like it’s wrapped in cotton; the world is a blurry afterimage of last night’s intensity. The taste of Noah’s lingering kiss on my lips makes me bury my face into the pillow, trying to muffle the scream I want to let out. Excitement, fear, and a little bit of shame is a scary combination before I’ve even had my morning coffee.
Why did he have to complicate things? Why did I let him? Do I want this too?
When my mind refused to turn off last night, I opened my laptop and began typing up our agreement. I thought seeing it written out would help the rules feel more concrete, but they just got me excited to see him all over again. The rules were supposed to make things easier, clearer. But all they’ve done is draw lines we both can’t wait to cross. And now I’m left here, tangled in sheets that hold no warmth because I decided to be petty and wash his scent away, wondering how long I can last withoutclimbing Mount Noah at work, and grateful it’s Friday so I’ll only have to last the day, if I can.
I roll out of bed and force myself to focus on something, anything other than the swirling thoughts about Noah whispering about being dirty animals together at night. Today needs a fresh start, or at least a well-dressed one.
I stand in front of my closet, taking more care than usual in selecting my outfit. After a few moments of deliberation, I settle on a crisp red blouse that makes me feel both empowered and elegant, paired with a high-waisted pencil skirt that makes Noah do a double take every time he thinks I’m not watching. The right outfit can be an armor, and today, I feel like I’m going into battle. The memory of Maeve’sExecutivepiece makes me sigh; that thing would sure boost one’s confidence by a hundred points.
As I step into the office, I’m unusually aware of every sensation—the click of my heels on the polished floor, the cool air against my skin, the faint buzz of quiet conversations around me. The office is almost empty at this early hour, but to me it feels extra loud today.
I settle at my desk and boot up my computer, grateful for the mundane task of checking emails. My fingers hover over the keyboard when I hear the elevator ding at the end of the hallway—despite the office buzz, my ears still pick out the sound. I don’t have to look up to know it’s him—the air shifts when Noah King enters a room, like gravity suddenly remembers it has a job to do and pulls me toward his magnificent body.
“Good morning, Beatrice.” His voice slides over my name like silk, and I hate how my pulse jumps at the first notes.Pathetic, Bea. Pathetic.
I force myself to look up slowly and very professionally. “Good morning, Mr. King.”
He’s wearing a fit charcoal suit, and with those bruises turned into an interesting shade of purple, he looks rather striking. When he stops at my desk, I catch a whiff of his cologne that’s been haunting my room since he left.
“Any fires I should know about?” He leans against my desk, just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The position feels deliberate. “Any donut crumbs I need to eat?”
