That earned me a small, surprised snort—a real laugh, quiet but genuine. The tension cracked for half a heartbeat.
“You’re impossible,” she murmured, still close enough that the words brushed my skin.
I smiled into her hair. “You like impossible.”
She didn’t answer, but she didn’t disagree either. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It just… existed. Full of things neither of us could say yet.
I lifted a hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. Her skin was cool where my fingers grazed it, her pulse fluttering just beneath. She looked up, eyes tired but clear, and for the first time all night, she wasn’t performing or pretending—just her.
“Come home with me,” I said quietly.
Her breath hitched. “Beckett?—”
“We don’t have to do anything,” I said quickly. “I just—don’t want you walking into an empty place tonight.”
It wasn’t smooth or rehearsed. It was raw, honest. The thought of her sitting alone in that apartment after everything—after him—was unbearable.
She studied me for a long moment, like she was trying to find the catch. The part where I’d smirk and make it a joke. But there wasn’t one. I didn’t have anything left to hide behind.
Her shoulders dropped a little. Some invisible wall gave way.
“Okay,” she whispered.
That single word hit harder than any kiss, any promise.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. It came out shaky, uneven—half relief, half disbelief that she’d actually said yes.
“Okay,” I echoed.
She smiled faintly, almost shyly, and I leaned down before I could stop myself. The kiss that followed wasn’t hungry or desperate like before. It was slower. Careful. A seal instead of a spark—like we were both acknowledging what we were walking into and doing it, anyway.
Her hand came up, fingers curling lightly against my jaw, grounding me. I let mine slide down her arm until our fingers laced.
When we broke apart, her forehead lingered against mine. The scent of her perfume, the faint tremor in her breath—it all settled deep, heavy in my chest.
“You sure?” I asked quietly.
She nodded once. “Yeah.”
That was all I needed.
I kissed her again, softer this time, more a promise than a request. And when I pulled back, I didn’t say anything else, just led her toward the exit—both of us knowing nothing about this was simple, and neither of us caring.
Whatever came next, we’d already crossed the line. There was no going back.
Chapter 25
Ellery
His apartment felt like him—industrial and unbothered. Bare walls, clean lines, the faint scent of soap and cedar. Warm light from a single lamp spilled across the hardwood, soft enough to blur the edges of everything.
We’d come straight from the gala, still half wrapped in that world of glitter and expectation. My heels clicked against the floor as I stepped inside, echoing louder than I meant them to. Beckett closed the door behind us, and suddenly, the noise of the night—music, laughter, flashbulbs—was gone.
The silence hit different. Not awkward, just aware.
We both knew what it meant to be here.
He shrugged off his jacket, the fabric whispering as it fell over the arm of the couch. Then, without saying anything, he took my clutch from my hand and set it gently on the counter. That small act—casual, careful—knocked the air out of me more than anything else could have.
