CHAPTER SIX: THE SPACE IN BETWEEN US

Lauren stood frozen.

The wind toyed with the hem of her sundress, and the waves danced just inches from her toes, but she barely felt any of it. All she could feel was the ghost of Louis’s voice in her ears.

> “I get paid to protect you. Not feel anything for you.”

And yet he had. She knew it. Felt it. Every glance, every moment of stillness between them was dripping with everything they were too afraid to say out loud.

Her hand was still suspended in the air where she’d touched him, fingertips tingling from contact that had lasted barely a heartbeat.

She let it fall to her side.

And slowly, she turned and walked.

---

She found him leaning against the car, arms crossed, staring blankly at the ocean.

He didn’t look at her as she approached.

She opened the passenger door but didn’t get in. Instead, she stood beside it, one hand on the frame.

“Why did you walk away?”

Louis remained still for a second longer, then turned his head toward her.

His jaw was tight again. That familiar storm in his eyes was back.

“Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have stopped.”

Lauren’s breath hitched.

He said it like a confession.

Like an apology.

Like a warning.

“I’m not made of stone, Lauren,” he continued, voice low. “You think I don’t see you? The way you carry yourself like you’re made of glass—so poised, so perfect—but one wrong touch could shatter you?”

Her throat went dry.

He pushed off the car, closing the distance between them.

“But I also see the fire under all that silence. And that scares the hell out of me.”

She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Why?”

“Because I want to feed it.”

The air thickened between them.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them blinked.

And then—like a wave finally crashing against the rocks—Lauren stepped forward. Just one step. Enough to erase the space between them.

“Do you think I don’t want you to?”

Louis’s eyes widened slightly, like she’d just handed him the very thing he’d spent weeks pretending not to want.

The muscles in his throat shifted as he swallowed hard.

“I shouldn’t want you.”

“But you do.”

His fingers twitched by his side.

She saw it.

Felt it.

The pull. The ache. The raw, unspoken need growing louder with every second they stood too close and not close enough.

And then he said the one thing she didn’t expect.

“I dream about you.”

Her lips parted.

“What?”

He looked away briefly, like the admission cost him.

“Most nights. You’re there. Sitting in the backseat. Wearing something you probably forgot you put on. And I’m watching you through the mirror, trying not to think about the curve of your leg, the way your voice sounds when you talk about anything just to fill the silence.”

He exhaled sharply. “Sometimes I wake up angry at myself. Because I know where the line is. I’ve spent my whole life following rules. Staying in place.”

“And I’ve spent mine waiting for someone to break them.”

He looked at her again.

Really looked.

And this time, when he stepped closer, he didn’t stop.

His hand reached up slowly, his fingertips brushing against her cheek, featherlight. Her skin flared beneath the touch.

Still, he didn’t kiss her.

Didn’t even lean in.

He just whispered, “Tell me to stop.”

She didn’t.

Couldn’t.

Instead, she leaned into his palm.

And for a few seconds, the world faded.

The crashing of the ocean, the wind in the palms, the distant seagulls—all of it became nothing. Just background noise to the storm unraveling quietly between them.

Then—

A car horn blared in the distance, jarring them both.

Lauren flinched slightly. Louis pulled his hand back like he’d been burned.

Reality returned with sharp edges.

They said nothing as he opened the door for her and she slid inside. The spell broken, but not forgotten.

---

The drive back to the hotel was pure silence.

Not the comfortable kind.

Not the indifferent kind.

But the kind that wraps around you with its own kind of intimacy.

Lauren stared out the window, her fingers resting lightly on her lips, still remembering the warmth of his hand against her face.

When they arrived, he parked in the underground garage. She reached for the door handle, but his voice stopped her.

“Lauren.”

She turned.

He wasn’t looking at her.

“I won’t cross that line unless you ask me to.”

She didn’t reply.

But her silence said enough.

He nodded once, almost like a bow. Then stepped out and walked around to open her door.

---

Back in the suite, Richard still wasn’t there.

Of course he wasn’t.

The untouched champagne bottle was now warm. The room smelled faintly of lilies—freshly delivered flowers from the hotel, no doubt—but Lauren didn’t even notice.

She collapsed onto the bed, still in her sundress, staring up at the ceiling like it held answers.

Her heart was still racing.

Not from anything that had happened.

But from everything that almost did.

She closed her eyes, Louis’s words still echoing in her ears.

> “I dream about you.”

She wondered how many more nights she’d lie next to a man who didn’t see her, didn’t touch her, didn’t ache for her…

While dreaming of the one who did.