Maya's sigh escaped before she could stop it.
The door of Rege's penthouse clicked softly behind them, sealing away the warmth of the morning they had spent together.
For a moment she simply stood there.
The hallway stretched ahead in quiet elegance, illuminated by soft recessed lighting and framed by enormous windows overlooking Manhattan. The city beyond moved as it always did—busy, relentless, alive.
Yet everything felt strangely distant.
As though she had stepped out of a dream and back into reality.
A reality she wasn't entirely ready for.
Beside her, Rege immediately turned.
His hand tightened slightly around hers.
Not enough to hurt.
Not enough to restrain.
Just enough to ask a question.
Are you alright?
Maya looked up and immediately understood.
A laugh escaped her.
Soft.
Breathless.
"Don't worry."
The corners of her lips lifted.
"I'm okay."
His gaze remained fixed on her.
Unconvinced.
Maya glanced toward the elevator waiting at the end of the corridor.
Then back at him.
"I'm just back to reality."
The confession slipped out before she could stop it.
Something flickered across Rege's expression.
Something warm.
Something dangerous.
His thumb grazed the back of her hand.
A small gesture.
Yet somehow it soothed her instantly.
The ridiculous part was that she had already become accustomed to it.
To him.
To his presence.
To the strange comfort she felt whenever he was near.
That realization should have frightened her.
Instead it settled deeper.
They walked toward the elevator together.
The hallway remained silent.
Their joined hands swinging slightly between them.
The elevator arrived with a quiet chime.
The doors slid open.
They stepped inside.
The doors closed.
And suddenly the world disappeared.
No skyline.
No penthouse.
No city.
No distractions.
Only the two of them.
The small enclosed space immediately felt different.
Smaller.
Warmer.
Far too intimate.
Maya became acutely aware of everything.
The soft hum of the elevator.
Rege's scent of agarwood and musk.
The warmth radiating from his body.
The way their hands still remained intertwined.
The way her heart had begun misbehaving again.
Rege pressed a button.
Or at least he intended to.
Instead his finger moved elsewhere.
A hidden control.
The elevator stopped.
Silently.
Maya blinked.
The slight motion ceased immediately.
Her eyebrows lifted.
Before she could ask why—
Rege turned toward her.
Fully.
The movement was so sudden that her breath caught.
His eyes were darker now.
Focused entirely on her.
Not distracted.
Not restrained.
Just her.
Maya's lips parted instinctively.
The look in his eyes made her pulse stumble.
Neither spoke.
Neither seemed capable of speaking.
The air between them thickened.
Something shifted.
Something neither of them could take back.
Slowly—
very slowly—
Rege released her hand.
Only to lift his other hand toward her face.
His fingers brushed her cheek.
Gentle.
Careful.
Almost reverent.
As though she were something precious.
Something breakable.
Something he was afraid of frightening away.
Maya forgot how to breathe.
Forgot how to think.
Forgot everything except the feeling of his hand against her skin.
His gaze never left hers.
Neither did hers.
The entire world narrowed.
Only those eyes.
Those impossible aquamarine eyes.
Only him.
His thumb moved softly along her cheek.
Then lower.
Until it reached her mouth.
Maya's heartbeat became deafening.
His thumb brushed her lower lip.
Once.
Then again.
The touch was barely there.
Yet every nerve in her body reacted.
Heat unfurled low in her stomach.
Slow.
Dangerous.
Overwhelming.
She knew she should look away.
She should say something.
She should create distance.
Instead she stood completely still.
Because the truth terrified her.
In that moment—
in that elevator—
Rege could have asked for anything.
And she would have given it.
Not reluctantly.
Not fearfully.
Willingly.
Entirely.
The realization shook her.
Because she had never trusted anyone that much before.
Not once.
Rege lowered his head slightly.
The distance between them disappeared.
A breath.
Maybe less.
Maya could feel his breath.
Could see every detail of his face.
The sharp line of his jaw.
The faint shadow of stubble.
The tension beneath his control.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
Then returned to her eyes.
Still he didn't kiss her.
Still he waited.
As though fighting himself.
As though trying desperately to remember every reason why he shouldn't do this.
Maya's lungs burned.
Yet she still wasn't breathing.
Rege noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Dangerously soft.
Then he whispered,
"Breathe, Krasota."
The sound of his voice shattered whatever spell she had fallen under.
Maya released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Air rushed into her lungs.
Her body obeyed him automatically.
Instinctively.
The realization only made her blush harder.
Heat spread everywhere.
And Rege saw it.
Every bit of it.
God help him.
He saw all of it.
The problem was that he had reached the end of his restraint.
He had spent weeks controlling himself.
Weeks pretending he wasn't affected.
Weeks convincing himself patience was enough.
It wasn't.
Not anymore.
Not after waking up beside her.
Not after watching her smile all morning.
Not after holding her hand.
Not after hearing her say she didn't want to leave.
Something inside him finally broke.
Without allowing himself another second to think—
he shifted his thumb.
Placing it directly over her lips.
And kissed it.
The world stopped.
Maya's eyes widened.
Every thought vanished.
Every coherent sentence disappeared.
The gesture shouldn't have felt more intimate than an actual kiss.
Yet somehow it did.
Because it was Rege.
Because it was deliberate.
Because it was restrained.
Because it wasn't.
His lips lingered for the briefest second.
Then he pulled away.
Immediately.
As though staying any longer would destroy every remaining piece of his self-control.
Before Maya could recover—
before she could process what had happened—
before she could even blink—
he pressed the control panel again.
The elevator resumed moving.
Nothing happened.
Everything happened.
Maya stood frozen.
Her entire body felt warm.
No.
Hot.
Her face burned.
Her neck burned.
Even her ears felt hot.
She stared straight ahead.
Absolutely refusing to look at him.
Because if she did—
she might actually combust.
The elevator descended.
Silently.
The longest descent of her life.
When the doors finally opened on her floor, Maya moved immediately.
Almost too quickly.
She stumbled out.
Mortified.
Flustered.
Completely undone.
She hurried toward her penthouse door.
Entered the security code wrong.
Twice.
Finally got it right.
Opened the door.
Stepped inside.
And slammed it shut behind her.
Only then did she lean against it.
Breathing hard.
Meanwhile—
outside in the hallway—
Rege stood completely still.
For approximately three seconds.
Then he laughed.
A real laugh.
Quiet.
Deep.
Helpless.
His shoulders shook.
Because Maya had practically fled.
And somehow that was the most adorable thing he had ever witnessed.
Inside the apartment, Maya didn't stop.
She marched directly toward her bedroom.
Past the living room.
Past Cassie.
Past everything.
Cassie looked up from the sofa.
Confused.
"Maya?"
No response.
Maya disappeared upstairs like someone fleeing a crime scene.
Cassie stared after her.
One eyebrow rising.
Then she smiled knowingly.
"Oh."
That explained everything.
Upstairs, Maya burst into her room.
Closed the door.
Crossed the room.
And threw herself face-first onto the bed.
A muffled scream disappeared into the pillow.
Then another.
Then a third.
She buried her burning face deeper.
Mortified.
Delighted.
Horrified.
Happy.
All at once.
Eventually she rolled onto her side.
Her fingers lifted slowly to her lips.
Touching them.
Remembering.
Not a kiss.
Not exactly.
Yet somehow—
completely a kiss.
The memory replayed immediately.
His eyes.
His voice.
His thumb.
The way he had whispered her nickname.
The way her body had responded.
The way she still hadn't recovered.
Maya groaned and buried her face in the pillow again.
Then sat upright suddenly.
A ridiculous smile stretched across her face.
The kind teenagers got after their first crush noticed them.
The kind she hadn't worn in years.
Maybe ever.
She pressed her hands against her cheeks.
They hurt from smiling.
And somehow—
that only made her smile harder.
Because somewhere along the way, without realizing it, she had fallen much deeper than she intended.
And the truly frightening part?
She wasn't trying to climb out anymore.