Chapter Five

The air outside was cool, the city lights reflecting off damp pavement, casting soft glows against the night sky.

He kept his hand at the small of my back as we walked out of the club, his touch

steady, protective, but never too firm.

Every so often, his thumb would make small, absent circles against my skin — a

silent reminder of the electricity that had simmered between us all night.

The hum of traffic, distant laughter, and late-night music echoed through the

streets, but the world felt oddly quiet compared to the charged atmosphere we had just left behind.

The mystery man — the one who'd been watching — hadn't reappeared.

But his absence didn't make me feel any safer.

If anything, it made me more aware of the space around us.

I couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were still on me.

He opened the passenger door of his sleek black car, waiting for me to slide inside before circling to the driver's side.

As we pulled away from the club, I let my head fall back against the leather seat,

my fingers absently running over my thigh where his touch had lingered most of the night.

"You're quiet again," he said softly as we drove.

I glanced over at him.

His hands gripped the steering wheel lightly, his jaw relaxed, but I noticed the

subtle tension beneath his calm surface. Like he was keepig his thoughts tightly leashed.

"I'm just... processing," I replied with a faint smile. "Tonight was a lot."

His eyes flicked briefly toward me, something like amusement dancing behind his steady gaze. "Good or bad?"

"A little of both," I admitted. "But mostly good."

He chuckled under his breath, his hand reaching across the center console to find mine.

His fingers laced with mine easily. "I plan to keep it that way."

The confidence in his voice was intoxicating, and despite the gnawing questions

swirling in my head, I couldn't help but relax into the warmth of his touch.

My heart still raced from everything that had unfolded, but there was something

oddly calming about the way he looked at me — like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

We didn't say much for the rest of the drive. The silence wasn't uncomfortable — it

was heavy with unspoken thoughts, but somehow intimate.

His thumb traced slow, absent strokes across my hand as the city lights flickered past.

When we arrived at my building, he put the car in park but made no move to get

out. Instead, he turned toward me, his eyes searching my face with quiet intensity.

"Text me when you're inside," he said softly.

"I will." I smiled, but my pulse quickened under his gaze.

He leaned in then, his lips brushing mine in a slow, tender kiss that quickly

deepened as I responded. His hand cradled my face, tilting me slightly to better fit

the shape of his mouth against mine.

The warmth of his body radiated toward me, and for a brief moment, everything

else — the warnings, the messages, the strange man — faded into nothing but this.

The kiss lingered, stealing my breath until finally, reluctantly, he pulled back.

"Sleep well, beautiful." His voice was a whisper, rough around the edges.

I stepped out of the car, feeling the absence of his touch immediately.

The cool air hit my skin, sobering me slightly as I made my way inside.

When the elevator doors slid shut, I allowed myself one final glance at him through

the glass — still watching, still calm, still entirely unreadable.

Inside my apartment, I peeled off my heels, dropped my clutch, and sank onto the couch.

My fingers instinctively reached for my phone.

The two messages still sat there, burning a hole into my thoughts.

Be careful who you trust.

You're already in too deep.

I exhaled slowly, biting my lip. And yet, despite everything — despite the warning bells in my head — I wanted to see him again.

The desire was undeniable, pulling me toward him even as caution whispered otherwise.

I shook the thoughts away and texted him as promised.

Inside. Safe.

Good night.

His response was almost instant.

Good night, gorgeous. Dream of me.

I smiled despite myself. He was dangerous.

But damn, he was charming.

The next morning came too quickly.

My alarm blared far too soon for someone who'd barely gotten any sleep.

My dreams had been restless, filled with flashes of dark eyes, whispered warnings,

and the strange thrill of being watched.

I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water chase away the lingering tension.

By the time I was dressed for work — sleek blouse, tailored pants, neutral heels

— I had pushed most of the night's chaos to the back of my mind. For now.

The familiar buzz of the office welcomed me as I stepped through the glass doors.

Phones ringing, keys tapping, hurried voices discussing deadlines. Normal. Ordinary.

Exactly what I needed.

I settled into my desk, determined to lose myself in reports, emails, and spreadsheets.

Anything to create distance from the electric storm of last night.

"Rough night?" my coworker Jenna teased as she passed my desk with a fresh coffee in hand.

I gave her a tight smile. "Something like that."

"New guy?" she asked, grinning.

I hesitated for half a second. "You could say that."

Jenna wiggled her brows suggestively. "We need to talk at lunch."

"Maybe," I laughed, waving her off.

As she walked away, my phone buzzed on my desk.

Him.

Thinking of you already. Can't wait to see you again.

The corners of my lips curled upward despite myself.

But even as my fingers hovered over the keyboard to reply, I felt that same strange

pull in my stomach.

Desire. Excitement.

And something else