elevator

Morning didn’t erase last night.

If anything, it sharpened it.

I woke up with his voice still echoing in my bones, low and rough and saying my name like he craved me. The sun slid through my blinds reminding me of the day ahead. I willed my body to get up but she didn't listen to me. She wanted to reminisce on the craziness of the night.

My body remembered everything.

His body, his lazy smirk, the way he said my name, the way he looked at me, the way he moaned, God, the way he moaned!!!

I groaned softly and buried my face in my pillow.

“This is what happens when you confront hot neighbors in the middle of the night,” I muttered.

Running late already, I hastily got up, had my bath, I threw on baggy jeans and a crop top, twisted my hair into a messy bun, grabbed my keys and rushed into the hallway.

And walked straight into trouble.

Literally.

Solid chest. Warm skin. That same familiar scent I hadn’t realized I’d memorized.

I gasped.

He steadied me by the waist like it was instinct.

“Careful, princess.”

My heart tried to exit my ribcage.

There he was. My hot neighbor

He had a fresh shower glow. Tattoos darker against damp skin.He had on grey sweatpants sitting far too low on his hips like they were daring gravity to try something. I wished gravity would pull it down, definitely not because I wanted to see the bulge in his pants. And where the heck is his shirt? The morning light just made him look radiant.

“Morning,” he added softly, eyes lingering like he was seeing into my soul.

I swallowed. “You did that on purpose.”

“Ran into you?” His mouth tilted. “No.”

Pause.

“Thinking about you all night? Absolutely."

My cheeks warmed. We hadn't exchanged more than 20 words before yesterday and now we're thinking about each other?

“You’re unbelievable.” I scoffed.

“And you're fucking hot,” he said gently. “I think that makes us even.”

My breath caught.

A woman passing down the hall glanced between us and hurried away like she felt the heat too.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

“Sleep well?” He smelled like a rain forest, wet trees and moist earth.

I hated how weak my knees went.

“I slept,” I said carefully.

He smiled slow. Dangerous.

“I didn’t.” he winked at me.

The elevator dinged at the end of the hall.

We walked toward it in silence, the sexual tension thick enough to cut through.

Inside, the doors closed with a soft thud that felt suspiciously final.

The hum of movement filled the space. On the next floor, a little crowd entered, backing us into a corner.

His arm brushed mine.

Static. My pulse jumped. In anticipation and shock.

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured.

“Doing what?”

“Avoiding my eyes when you’re thinking about last night.”

I looked up sharply. “I’m not.”

His gaze held mine.

“Lie better.”

The elevator climbed.

Slow.

Painfully slow.

“If I touched you right now,” he said quietly, “you’d melt.”

My breath hitched before I could stop it. What the hell was up with this Greek god?

“Stop,” I whispered.

His eyes darkened.

“You don’t mean that.”

"Try me" I didn't even know what I was daring him to do. I just knew that his closeness was clouding my thinking faculty and my body was finding ways to cling to him.

In the crowded space, he adjusted till he was standing directly in front of me.

His lazy smirk resurfaced, but it had a mischievous glint to it. His hand hovered over my breast, giving me a chance to object, before plucking my nipple.

It was like a fucking light switch came on. My body came alive in forbidden ways. He did it again, to the other nipple. I inhaled sharply, my thighs growing warmer.

It was like he didn't care that we were in an elevator filled with people. No one seemed to be paying attention to us.

He proceeded to draw lazy circles round my nipples and god, I melted. He had to hold my waist to steady me. I blamed my weak knees on my lack of coffee.

His dark stayed on my lips for a treacherous second and when his face came slowly to mine, It was obvious he was about to kiss me. In front of Strangers, in a god-damned cramped elevator.

The elevator dinged, cutting the moment.

The doors slid open.

Neither of us moved.

For one suspended second, the world balanced on the edge of a kiss.

Then someone cleared their throat outside the elevator.

Reality snapped back.

I stepped out quickly, heart racing. Was I about to kiss this stranger?

He followed like a shadow.

-

Work was a blur.

Emails made no sense. Coffee tasted like regret. My thoughts kept drifting back to tattoos and smirks and that voice.

By evening, I was exhausted in the way that only unresolved sexual tension creates.

I’d just kicked off my shoes when a knock sounded.

My heart knew before my brain did.

I opened the door.

It was him.

This time in a black tee clinging to muscle, tattoos peeking like secrets, hair slightly damp again like showers were his hobby.

He held out a sleek pair of headphones.

“Peace offering.”

“For the music?”

“And for keeping you up,” he added softly.

Our fingers brushed when I took them.

Heat rushed up my arm like a spark racing a fuse.

Neither of us pulled away.

“Last night,” he said, quieter now, less teasing, more real, “wasn’t just a joke for me.”

My breath trembled.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

Silence stretched.

Heavy. Charged.

His eyes drifted to my lips like gravity existed there.

“Invite me in, Taylor.”

My pulse thundered.

I should’ve thought.

Should’ve hesitated.

Should’ve remembered every bad decision that starts with a hot neighbor.

Instead, I stepped aside.

The door closed behind him with a soft click that sounded dangerously like a lock.