Chapter 4 The Line They Crossed

"Let's get out of here," he rasped, low, the promise of so much unsaid in every word.

Sophia hesitated a moment; her breath caught in the back of her throat. "I don't usually do this," she said, her words barely audible.

"Neither do I," Adrian said, not letting his eyes release hers. It was, more than the lips that came over hers a second time, the honest admission behind them that banished what could be only a moment of anxiety.

The elevator up to his penthouse rode oppressively silent, the tension thick between them. Sophia stared down at the joined hands, her mind screaming this was a huge mistake. But her body merely hummed anticipation, drowning out the protests of better judgment.

The elevator doors slid open, and Adrian didn't wait. He led her inside; the click of the door shutting behind them echoed in the spacious apartment.

Adrian's lips hovered inches from hers, his gray, piercing gaze searching hers for permission. In the stillness of the living room, caught by dim light and in shadow, Adrian had a strong bone structure, which was accentuated. On the cheek, barely a dent there was a dimple, quite visible only whenever he relaxed himself. Thick, jet black hair framed it, slight tussles that were now after an otherwise flawlessly impeccable styling clashed disconcertingly with his authority.

Her heart was racing against her chest. Her breath caught, the heat of his fingers a little rough on her cheek. A flicker in his gaze softened, turning almost fragile. For one moment, her barriers crumbled.

Her lips parted, and the air between them ticked up. "Adrian," she whispered. Before she could get anything else out, Adrian's lips swallowed hers.

It was a slow kiss at first, feeling the waters, but soon it turned hungry. His hands, firm yet gentle, slipped to her waist, tugging her closer into him. Sophia's fingers found their way to his hair, and she was surprised by how soft it felt to her touch.

She'd almost melted into the broad-shouldered frame as if she had come there to be. There was the fragile, worn scent of cologne, somehow inactively perfumed: all warm and of wood. One thing different was the powerful body pressed into hers, one that was held taut under heavy regimen with exercise. Contrasting with that was her soft, frailly composed structure.

When they finally broke apart for air, his voice was low and rough. "Sophia... we don't have to do this."

Again, her eyes met his, flecked gold in hazel, her chest rising and falling with her caught breath. Her lips, now slightly swollen and pinker than before, were trembling. "I want this," she whispered softly, catching herself off guard.

Adrian took her to his bedroom, his hand never leaving hers. The room was huge, yet subdued-a combination of dark woods and sleek grays. The king-sized bed lay in the middle, its crisp white sheets inviting.

She faltered for a fraction of a second at the door, but Adrian turned to her, his gray eyes with an unfamiliar tenderness. "Are you sure?" he asked again.

This time, Sophia nodded, her voice even. "Yes."

The night wore on, Adrian forceful yet gentle, his lips tracing a line down her neck, hands tracing her slender body. Sophia's long chestnut brown hair fanned onto the pillow as her light caramel skin shone under the dim light of the bedside lamp.

And to him, she was a petite, fragile-looking body that answered in passions so suddenly, surprisingly intense for them both. Adrian handled her as though she would shatter if the press of his hand was not cautious. She trailed her fingers across the hard planes of his muscled chest, contrasting against herself so incredibly.

Time froze. It wasn't the physical touch but the way he was looking at her, as if she were the only one in the world. And for a second, Sophia let herself forget about her past, her pain, and the complications yet to come.

Later, tangled together beneath the sheets, Sophia stared at the ceiling while her heart was still pounding. Adrian's arm lay over her waist, his breathing steady and deep.

The sun had begun to rise by the time Sophia woke up, the diffused light creeping in through the curtains made her squint. She blinked, the events of the night before crashing into her with startling clarity.

She turned her head to see Adrian sleeping still beside her, relaxed, the sharp edges of his intensity dulled. He almost looked vulnerable.

That was when it hit her like a kick in the stomach, what she had done.

"Oh, God," she whispered, sliding out of bed as quietly as possible. Her dress lay crumpled on the floor, and she picked it up, trying to smooth it out with shaking hands.

This was a mistake. A monumental mistake.

She glanced back at Adrian as she zipped her dress, guilt clawing at her. He had been nothing but amazing, but she couldn't stay.

Her heels clicked in soft tone bursts against the wood floor as she went for the door, her heart pounding in her chest with every step she took. It was just then that her hand touched the handle; the silence was breached by his voice.

"Leaving already?

Sophia froze, her hand hovering over the knob. Slowly, she turned to find Adrian sitting up in bed, the sheet pooling around his waist. His hair was mussed, his expression unreadable.

"I-" she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Adrian's gaze never wavered. "You don't have to run, Sophia."

"I'm not running," she lied, her cheeks flushing.

"You don't have to lie, either," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood and somehow made the movement so fluid, so grace-filled, that for a moment, Sophia was caught in the picture he made.

"I can't do this," she said finally, her voice breaking.

Adrian tilted his head, his eyes searching hers. "Do what? Admit you felt something?"

The vulnerability in his words made Sophia's throat contract, her chest ache. "I don't have time for this," she said, reaching for the door again.

"You can leave," Adrian said, his voice quiet now. "But don't pretend last night didn't mean something."

Sophia didn't say a word. She couldn't. She turned the door open without looking backward and went onto the marble floor of the hall, her heels loudly echoing in the silent room.

Reaching the elevator, her purse beeped. She retrieved her phone; her hands still shook.

It was an email notification; it was her boss, Nathan.

She gasped at the subject line: "Urgent: We Need To Talk About Adrian Grayson."