LOSING OURSELVES

I swallowed, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't looking at me, but I could feel it—his attention, his awareness of me standing there, just inches away.

The key card was placed on the counter, and Mark took it without another word.

Then, finally, his gaze slid to mine, something flickering behind his eyes.

"Let's go."

His voice was smooth. Controlled.

But I knew the second the elevator doors closed behind us, control wouldn't last much longer. And so, the elevator doors slid shut with a quiet chime, sealing us inside the gleaming, mirrored space.

Silence stretched between us, thick with anticipation.

Mark stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off him, but not quite touching. Not yet. His hands were in his pockets, his posture composed, his jaw set like he was trying to keep himself in check.

The floor numbers flickered upward.