"I am." She smiles, and the expression transforms her entire face. "Besides, I owe you for deleting my blog post. Learning about your culture seems like appropriate payment."
Payment.As if sharing the deepest expressions of my heritage could ever be mere transaction rather than gift freely given to someone who appreciates their beauty.
"Tomorrow night, then. Same time, same place."
"It's a date."
The words slip out before she can catch them. We both freeze, the casual expression hanging between us weighted with implications neither of us is quite ready to examine.
"I mean, it's an appointment. A scheduled academic meeting."
"Of course. Academic collaboration."
But her cheeks flush pink in the emergency lighting, and my heart hammers like a caged bird desperate for freedom. Tomorrow night can't come fast enough.
Stone warms slow, but apparently souls can kindle much faster when the right words provide tinder for unexpected flame.
CHAPTER 9
MAYA
The hallway transforms under my hands, a canvas of warm light against institutional beige. I drape strands of fairy lights along the walls, their golden glow casting patterns that dance with the rhythm of the tango music pulsing from my phone. The area between our apartments becomes something new as a bridge, a threshold, a place where boundaries blur and possibilities shimmer.
He’ll see this when he comes home. Maybe he’ll understand it’s an invitation.
The thought sends a thrill through me, a mix of anticipation and nerves that settles low in my belly. I’ve never done anything like this before, never strung up lights in a hallway or let music spill into shared spaces. But Ursak makes me want to break my own rules, to step outside the careful lines I’ve drawn around my life.
I adjust the last strand of lights, ensuring they catch the glow just right, when the sound of footsteps echoes down the hall. Heavy, deliberate, the unmistakable tread of Ursak’s boots. My breath hitches, and I turn just as he rounds the corner, his massive frame filling the walls. The fairy lights cast a golden halo around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the broadexpanse of his shoulders, the way his dark eyes widen slightly as he takes in the scene.
"You’ve transformed the hallway," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.
"Thought it could use a little magic," I reply, my voice lighter than I feel. The air between us crackles with something electric, something unspoken but impossible to ignore.
Ursak steps closer, his gaze flickering from the lights to me, as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. "Magic," he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like a promise. "Yes, I believe you’re right."
Before I can react, he reaches out, his hand enveloping mine. The warmth of his touch sends a jolt through me, and I realize with a start that he’s not just holding my hand. He’s pulling me toward him, as our bodies suddenly feel charged with possibility.
"May I?" he asks, his voice dripping with desire.
I nod, my throat too tight to speak, and then we’re moving. His hand is firm on my back, guiding me into the steps of the tango. I’ve never danced like this before, never let someone lead me so completely, but with Ursak, it feels natural. His body is solid against mine, his movements sure and strong, and I find myself melting into him, following his lead as if we’ve done this a thousand times before.
The music swells around us, the rhythm a heartbeat that syncs with the pulse pounding in my ears. Ursak’s hand slides down to the small of my back, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. I can feel the heat of him through my clothes, the solid strength of his chest against mine, the way his breath catches when I tilt my head up to meet his gaze.
"You’re a natural," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead.
I laugh, the sound breathless. "I think that’s just you being an excellent leader."
His grip tightens slightly, and I can feel the shift in him, the way his body tenses with something more than just the steps of the dance. "Or perhaps," he says, his voice dropping to a growl, "it’s you being an excellent follower."
The words send a shiver down my spine, and I realize with a rush of heat that we’re not just dancing anymore. This is something else entirely, something raw and primal and impossible to ignore.
I stumble then, my foot catching on the edge of his boot, and for a moment, I’m falling. But Ursak is there, his arms wrapping around me, his grip unyielding as he pulls me against him. The world tilts, and suddenly, I’m pressed against the wall, Ursak’s body caging me in, his breath hot against my skin.
"Maya," he growls, my name a prayer and a curse on his lips.
And then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is nothing like I expected. It’s not gentle or hesitant. It’s hungry, demanding, as if he’s been holding back for so long that now he can’t stop. His lips crash against mine, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a possessiveness that makes my knees weak. I moan into him, my hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him closer as if I can’t get enough.
