I nodded, slowly. “That was just... poetic as hell.”
He laughed. “You always like fire metaphors?”
“I always likeyou.”
That quieted him. But not just from surprise. It was something else. Something deeper—something vulnerable. His eyes lingered on me a little longer. His jaw tensed like he had more to say, but wasn’t sure how. And I realized something in that silence.
This wasn’t just a date.
This was him showing up.Choosingnot to push me away again.
We didn’t speak for a while after that. Just walked through the building, him pointing out details I never would’ve caught—how the ceiling told the truth better than the walls, how accelerant leaves a trail, how heat has a language.
And I listened. Fully.
Because this was the answer to the ache in my chest. This—him letting me into something ugly, something sacred, somethingreal—was how he told me he wasn’t going anywhere.
By the time we got back to the car, my skin smelled like smoke. My clothes held it too. He said he needed to shower. I told him I was coming with.
His apartment was quiet.
He peeled off his jacket, then my coat, then pulled me close like he couldn't stand the inches between us. We undressed in silence, our clothes heavy with ash, until we were standing bare in the warm light of his bathroom.
He turned on the water. Held out his hand. “Come here.”
The shower was slow. Tender. Water coursing over our shoulders as we touched, kissed, pressed close like we had nothing else to say. He washed me with careful hands, draggedhis palms down my back, over my hips. I turned to face him, needing to see him. He pressed his forehead to mine.
“You know why I brought you today?”
“Tell me.”
“Because I wanted you to see what I see. How I think. How I put things together.” He paused. “Because it matters to me that you know who I am. Not just the parts that kiss you right.”
I kissed him then. Slow, deep, reverent.
He lifted me in the water, my back against the tile, and entered me with a groan so quiet it could’ve been a prayer. We moved like we’d been carved for this. Like nothing else had ever made more sense than this kind of closeness. Our bodies slick and hot, our breath catching in tandem.
He whispered my name when I came. Held my face in his hands like I was made of something sacred.
We stayed in the water until it ran cool.
That night, after we dried off and climbed into bed, I laid my head on his chest and listened to the beat of a man I was falling in love with all over again.
16
Isat in my office, jacket tossed over the back of my chair, sleeves rolled to the elbow. The blinds were drawn halfway, letting in just enough of the gray light to remind me winter hadn’t finished with us yet. Spring couldn’t come quickly enough.
It was quiet. Too quiet. No perfume. No flirty banter from the front. No Maliah.
Marquez passed by, caught me glancing toward her desk.
“She ain’t coming in,” he said without slowing. “Quit.”
I blinked. “She quit?”
He stopped, gave a slight shrug. “Said the energy was off. Whatever that means.”
I snorted. “She quit a city job over a dick she never even had?”
