After the Flame

I don't know what possessed me to kiss him. Maybe it was the way he looked at me like I was the only real thing in the room. Or maybe it was the honesty in his voice when he said he didn't say things he didn't mean. Whatever it was, it overrode the barriers I had built, took hold of the air between us, and sparked a moment I couldn't ignore.

But I wasn't prepared for him to respond.

Blake didn't let it end with that soft brush of lips. No, the moment my lips lifted from his, he stepped in, one hand sliding gently to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. He kissed me like it was inevitable—like he'd been holding back for weeks and finally gave himself permission to feel.

And I kissed him back.

This wasn't the awkward, heated clash from weeks ago. This was slower. Deliberate. His lips moved with intention, syncing with mine until the space between us disappeared entirely. My back hit the wall softly as his body leaned into mine. One of his hands splayed across my waist, and I could feel the press of every breath he took, every tremor of restraint.

I didn't want him to stop.

The tension that had been coiling in my chest finally released. For the first time since this marriage started, I felt something dangerous—something warm and heady and real. Not duty. Not obligation. But want.

And he wanted me too.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us were breathing hard, eyes wide. My fingers were still clutching the front of his shirt. He leaned his forehead against mine, like he needed that contact to steady himself.

"You keep doing that," he murmured.

"Doing what?"

"Breaking all the rules."

I laughed under my breath. "I thought we were rewriting them."

He smiled, and I saw something flicker in his eyes—something deeper than lust or affection. Something like hope.

Then I stepped back.

Because if we stayed there another second, I wasn't sure either of us would stop.

"Goodnight, Blake," I said, heart racing.

"Night, Celine."

I slipped into my room, closed the door, and stood there for a long moment, leaning against it with a hand pressed to my chest. My lips were still tingling. My pulse was still erratic.

I didn't want to sleep.

And apparently, neither did he.

At 12:34 a.m., my phone buzzed.

[Blake]: Can't sleep. Can you?

I grinned.

[Me]: Not even close.

[Blake]: Was it the kiss?

[Me]: It might have had something to do with it.

[Blake]: Just checking. Thought I imagined it.

[Me]: If you did, we imagined the same thing.

A moment passed.

[Blake]: You were incredible tonight. And not just because of the kiss. The board, the meeting, the way you talked to my mother. You carried us both.

My heart flipped.

[Me]: Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.

[Blake]: I mean it. I always do.

Another pause.

[Blake]: Can I be honest?

[Me]: I'm counting on it.

[Blake]: I've wanted to kiss you again since Las Veritas. And not for the camera this time. Just for me.

I swallowed hard.

[Me]: I haven't stopped thinking about that kiss either. And for the record, tonight... I wanted it too.

A beat.

[Blake]: What happens next?

I hesitated. This was uncharted territory. We were no longer pretending. But we also weren't in love. Not yet. Still, the wall between us was cracking.

[Me]: Let's not plan it. Let's just let it happen.

[Blake]: Dangerous words, Mrs. Aldridge.

[Me]: I'm learning to live dangerously.

I stared at the screen for a long time, wondering how it had all changed so quickly. How he went from the stranger I was forced to marry to the man who sent me flowers and paper cranes and kissed me like I mattered.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed again.

[Blake]: I'm in the hallway. Just to say goodnight again. Not coming in. Promise.

My breath caught.

I padded to the door and opened it slowly.

There he was. Shirt rumpled, hair slightly disheveled, and eyes dark with everything he wasn't saying.

"Hey," I whispered.

He leaned on the doorframe. "Couldn't end the night on a text."

"Me neither."

We stood there in the soft hallway light, barely a breath apart.

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Sleep well, Celine."

"You too, Blake."

I didn't close the door immediately. I waited until he turned and walked away, glancing back once.

And when I finally did shut the door, I leaned back against it, smiling.

Sleep never came. But for the first time, I didn't mind.