Part 4: The Drive That Changed Everything

Just before the elevator doors shut, a hand slipped in to stop them—and Blake stepped in beside me.

He gave me a look that was impossible to read. “Didn’t think you’d sneak out without me.”

I smiled—barely. “Just heading home, Blake.”

He reached out to press the button for the basement, but before he could, I leaned in and hit it myself.

Our hands touched. Just for a second. Bare skin against skin. Nothing that would’ve meant anything to someone else.

But to me?
It was everything.

My heart skipped so sharply I thought he’d hear it.

He glanced at me and smiled. “Thanks, Troy”

The elevator started to hum downward. A soft mechanical lull beneath the silence that filled the space between us.

He shifted slightly, not looking at me as he asked, “Hey, do you need a ride home?”

I hesitated, caught off guard. “Oh. That’s okay. Mr. Blake. I’m good, really.”

He nodded, not pushing. But then again—he didn’t pull back either.

As the elevator slowed at the ground floor, I stepped forward, ready to leave and vanish into the night.

But his voice stopped me.

“You sure?” he said, and this time it was quieter. Gentler. “It’s late. And I’m heading that way. I’ll drop you, don’t worry.”

I froze, just slightly, before glancing back. The doors were open. The city waited. But the way he looked at me ... steady, calm, that same restraint from earlier still flickering in his eyes ... it pulled at something in me.

He nodded toward the exit. “Come on. I insist.”

There was something in his voice that made the answer come out before I could think it through.

“Okay,” I said. “Thank you so much Blake.”

We walked together down a quiet hallway I’d never used before. His keycard let us into the executive basement garage, and when his car chirped—sleek, black, and definitely out of my tax bracket—I paused for just a second.

He opened the passenger door for me, like a goddamn movie.

“Here,” he said softly. “Let me.”

I blinked, still unsure if this was happening. “Thanks...”

I slid into the seat, trying not to feel the way my pulse jumped. The leather was smooth and cool. The air smelled like his cologne—warm, spicy, expensive. Masculine in a way that clung to the back of my throat.

He got in on the driver’s side, started the car, and for a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

The silence was strangely comfortable.

He finally glanced over. “You live far?”

“Not really. Just west of the park.”

“Nice.”

The drive through the city was smooth and quiet. Streetlights painted gold across the dashboard in rhythmic flashes. The world outside blurred, but in the car, everything felt still.

“So,” he said, voice easy now, “what’s tomorrow for you? Big plans for Saturday night?”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, actually. My friend’s gender reveal in the morning. Her and her husband are going all out. Smoke cannons, cupcakes. I think a choreographed dance is involved.”

He chuckled. “Sounds ... intense.”

“It will be,” I said, smiling. “But good intense.”

He nodded. “Good.”

By the time we pulled up outside my apartment, something in the air had shifted again. Not as sharp as before. But thicker. Heavier. Like a string that had been wound too tight and was waiting to snap.

I unbuckled my seatbelt but didn’t move.

The silence between us lingered, thick with something neither of us wanted to name.

I turned to him slowly. My heart was loud in my ears.

“I just wanted to say...” I took a breath. “I’m sorry about earlier, Blake. I misread things. Got caught up in the moment.”

Blake didn’t respond at first. His gaze was steady, fixed on me.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I continued, softer now.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just—”
I paused.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Maddox. Uh ... Mr. Blake.”

The air felt different after I said it. Like something vulnerable had cracked open between us.

I expected him to give me a smile. Maybe a quiet it’s okay, or a polite dismissal to make it all go away.

But he didn’t.

He turned in his seat instead, slow and deliberate. His jaw was tense, and his eyes—God—his eyes were searching mine like he wasn’t sure what he was about to say.

“Actually, Troy...”

His voice had changed. Lower. Raw. Like something had broken loose inside him and he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

I held my breath.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. And even as he leaned in, he hesitated. His lips stopped just a breath away.

I could feel the warmth of him.

I could smell him.

He didn’t move further.

Not yet.

Then he whispered it.

“Fuck it.”

And his mouth found mine.

The kiss was immediate. Fierce. Passionate.
Like it had been caged behind his ribs for so long, clawing to get out—and now he was letting it all pour into me. The low sound in his throat. He kissed like a man on the edge. Like he was craving it.