Elena's POV
If I close my eyes, I can still feel that night — the air, the silence, the way his voice wrapped around me like something I wasn't supposed to want.
We were in Boston for a business trip. Just another meeting, another schedule, another reminder that Adrian Knight was the kind of man who belonged to a world I could only orbit — never touch.
And yet, I was always near him.
Too near.
The flight there was quiet. I sat beside him, pretending to read reports, but all I could think about was how close his arm was to mine.
He looked calm, focused, like he was made of control.
But once — just once — he turned to look at me.
And the way his eyes softened in that single moment… it felt like something inside me slipped.
By the time we reached the hotel, my heartbeat hadn't slowed once.
---
Later that evening, we were in his suite going over final notes. The room was dimly lit — warm gold lights reflecting against the tall glass windows, rain tapping softly outside. It was the kind of night that made the world feel smaller. Closer.
I remember my hands trembling slightly as I flipped through the files. I wanted so badly not to make a mistake. To prove I belonged there — beside him.
But of course, I did make one. A small one.
A client schedule error.
And suddenly, the air changed.
"Do you even understand what that mistake could cost?" His voice was sharp — not loud, but enough to make my throat go dry.
I looked up at him, startled. "I'm sorry, Adrian. It won't happen again."
"Sorry doesn't fix it," he muttered, pacing. "You should know better, Elena."
His words stung — maybe because I cared too much what he thought of me.
I took a small breath. "I'm doing my best."
He stopped. Turned.
And in that pause — something broke open.
His expression shifted, all anger dissolving into something darker. Softer.
"You think I don't see that?" His voice was quiet now, low and rough around the edges. "You drive me crazy, Elena. You make me—" He stopped, exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "You make me forget who I am."
I froze, unsure if I'd heard him right.
He took a step toward me, and I swear the air between us changed temperature.
"I've tried to stay away," he said, his tone quiet but raw. "But every time you look at me… I can't."
He was standing close now — close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that I could see the faint lines of exhaustion beneath his eyes.
"Adrian…" I whispered.
He lifted his gaze to mine, and in that moment, I saw everything he was trying not to say.
His hand rose slowly — almost like he was afraid to touch me.
His fingertips brushed my cheek, barely there.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
But I couldn't.
Because I didn't want him to.
When his lips met mine, it felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long.
The kiss was deep, unsteady, desperate — like all the tension between us had been waiting for this single, inevitable collapse.
His hand slid to the back of my neck, the other gripping my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left to pretend.
I melted into him — the warmth, the scent, the taste of something I'd never known I needed.
And for those few stolen seconds, nothing else existed. Not his title. Not my fears. Not the rules we were breaking.
Just us — the sound of our breathing, the press of his lips, the shiver that ran through me when he whispered my name against my mouth.
"Elena…"
But then he stopped.
Just like that — the world went still again.
He drew back, breathing hard, his hand still lingering on my face. His eyes were dark, almost pained.
"I shouldn't have done that," he said, voice rough. "You have no idea how long I've been trying not to."
My lips parted, trembling. "Then why did you?"
He looked at me for a long moment, his jaw tightening.
"Because I can't stop wanting you."
The words hit harder than any touch.
They weren't planned. They weren't pretty.
They were honest.
But before I could speak, he stepped away — slow, deliberate, as if forcing himself to remember who he was supposed to be.
"I can't do this," he said quietly. "You deserve better than… me."
And in that instant, I understood what fear looked like on a man who never showed weakness.
I stood there, my heart aching, my skin still remembering him.
When I finally turned to leave, I caught his reflection in the window — standing alone, his hand pressed against the glass like someone trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away.
That was the night everything changed.
The night I learned how something as simple as a kiss could feel like both a beginning…
and a heartbreak.