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“The pressure is too high, we have to hold it,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos.
The cold water churned around my knees, sending shivers up my spine, but the touch of Cass’s hand as it brushed against mine ignited a different kind of warmth. His chest heaved against my back, his breath hot on my neck as we both grasped the valve, struggling to keep the flood at bay.
I pushed back against him, leveraging our combined strength. The adrenaline surging through my veins blurred the line between urgency and desire.
His fingers laced with mine over the valve, his presence a solid force behind me. “Hold on just a little longer,” he encouraged.
The water roared in my ears like an untamed river, but it was Cass’s steady heartbeat against my back that kept me grounded. Our breaths synchronized, we moved as one entity against the relentless pressure. And then, with a final, joint effort, we managed to close the valve. The water’s fury subsided into a resentful gurgle.
We stood there for a moment, panting and soaked to the bone. The sudden silence was intimate—a stark contrast to the cacophony that had filled the basement moments before.
Cass turned me around to face him. His eyes searched mine, deep pools of concern and something more—something I hadn’t let myself acknowledge until now.
“You’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.
Before I could respond, before I could think better of it, Cass lowered his lips to mine. The kiss was fierce and full of all the unsaid things between us. It was a kiss that spoke of midnight dances and hidden desires—a kiss that brought me back to that night when we first met and when he made me his.
I melted into him, allowing myself to be swept up in the tide of passion that had been building since our first encounter. Our soaked clothes clung to us like a second skin as our hands explored each other’s bodies.
When we finally broke apart, gasping for air once more, there was no going back. The intensity in Cass’s gaze held promises neither of us had voiced but both understood.
“We can’t ignore this any longer,” he breathed out.
And in that wreckage-strewn basement with water dripping from our lashes and hope flickering in our chests, I knew he was right.
He kissed me again and it was divine.
The sound of the door creaking open tore through the cocoon Cass and I had unwittingly spun around ourselves. Our lips parted with the abruptness of the intrusion, and we turned in unison toward the noise. The repairmen, tools in hand, were followed closely by the board members whose eyes went wide at the sight of us. My heart raced with panic and I pulled back, but it was too late, they’ve seen way more than they should have.
“Everything’s under control,” Cass announced, his voice commanding the room as he released me to step forward. The authority in his tone was undeniable, but his hand lingered on my arm for a fraction longer than necessary—a silent promise that he wasn’t letting go so easily.
As the repairmen shuffled past us, the board members exchanged bewildered glances. The water that had soaked through my clothes felt like a thousand icy fingers against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of embarrassment that flushed my cheeks.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cassius
Mila’s hair clung to her face, a stark contrast to the fiery determination in her eyes just moments before.
“Come to my penthouse,” I blurted out, the words surprising even me. “You’ll catch your death in those wet clothes.”
Mila looked at me, her gaze measuring. “I can’t just leave, Cass. They need me here.”
“The center will survive one evening without its guardian angel.” I offered a hand. “Let’s get you warm and dry.”
She hesitated, but her shiver broke the stalemate. “Okay,” she whispered, accepting my hand.
The ride to my penthouse was quiet, charged with an energy neither of us dared to name. She watched the city lights blur by, a canvas of lives unfolding below us.
Once inside, I handed her a plush towel and my gym clothes. “Bathroom’s through there. Take your time.”
She nodded and disappeared behind the door.
I poured two glasses of wine, needing something to calm the storm inside me. The penthouse felt different with her in it—more like a home.
Mila emerged, looking smaller somehow in my oversized shirt and sweatpants. Her damp hair framed her face in soft waves.
“Feel better?” I asked, handing her a glass.
