15
LILY
The elevator doors close behind us with a soft mechanical whisper that feels too loud in the sudden silence. The small space shrinks around me, the walls pressing closer than they should. Erion stands less than two feet away, and somehow that distance feels both too much and nowhere near enough.
I shouldn't be this aware of him.
I shouldn't notice the way he takes up space like he owns it, shoulders broad enough to block my view of the mirrored wall behind him. Shouldn't register the precise angle of his jaw or the way his presence fills every inch of available air until there's nothing left to breathe that doesn't taste like him.
But I do notice. Every detail burns itself into my awareness whether I want it there or not.
His cologne hits me first. Sharp and woodsy with something darker underneath, something that makes my skin prickle with an awareness I don't want to name.
My pulse kicks up without permission. Heat spreads through my chest, unfurling like something waking from sleep. My breathing gets shallow, pulling in air that feels too thin, too warm, too charged with whatever's happening in this tiny metal box.
I clear my throat, trying to break whatever spell is wrapping around us. "Where are we going shopping?"
He chuckles. The sound rolls through the elevator like thunder before a storm, low and amused and entirely too knowing. "Do I look like I know where to shop for high-end clothes?"
I turn to look at him properly.
Combat boots, black and scuffed at the toes. Faded jeans with rips at the knees that definitely weren't manufactured in a factory, the edges frayed and genuine. Black t-shirt stretched across his chest, the fabric thin enough that I can see the definition of muscle underneath. A black leather jacket, creased at the elbows and shoulders, broken in until it fits him like a second skin.
Neck tattoos creep up toward his jaw, dark lines that disappear into the shaved side of his head where more ink vanishes into his hairline.
He looks dangerous. Rough. Like he walked off a motorcycle and into this luxury building by accident, like he doesn't belong here any more than I do.
I let my gaze travel slowly from his boots all the way up to meet his eyes, taking my time, appreciating what I see even though I absolutely shouldn't.
But I do it anyway.
His pale blue eyes darken as I watch. The color shifts from ice to something deeper, more intense. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath the stubble that shadows his face.
"Careful." His voice scrapes over my nerves. "If you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to push that emergency button and do what we both want."
My breathing stops, caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat.
He moves toward me. One step that closes half the distance between us. Then another that eliminates the rest until he's right there, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to keep eye contact. Backing me into the corner of the elevator until the cool metal presses against my shoulder blades.
My heart slams against my ribs. Too fast. Too hard. The rhythm erratic and wild.
He's going to kiss me.
I want him to. Want to know what his mouth tastes like, what his hands would feel like tangled in my hair, what that dangerous edge would translate to when turned toward pleasure instead of threat.
The elevator dings.
The sound cuts through the tension like a blade through silk, sharp and final and entirely unwelcome. We both freeze, caught in the moment, neither wanting to be the first to break it.
The doors slide open with a mechanical groan.
Erion presses his forehead against mine, the contact gentle despite everything else about him that's hard and dangerous. His breath fans across my lips, warm and unsteady. "Saved by the bell."
Someone clears their throat behind us. The sound is pointed, deliberate, dripping with judgment.
We both turn our heads without pulling apart.
A woman stands in the lobby, middle-aged and perfectly assembled. Her hair is shellacked into submission. Her expression is pure disdain, lips pressed into a thin line as she looks at us like we're something unpleasant she found at the bottom of her expensive shoe.
