Chapter 6 6. Aftermath

Kelly's view """"

He didn't move right away. Just stood there, his chest rising and falling in time with mine. One hand hovered near my waist like he was waiting for permission to breathe, to touch, to exist in this strange pull between us.

His voice broke the silence. "I didn't mean to rush that. I just..." He trailed off, eyes dropping to the space between us.

"You just kissed me," I said softly, finishing the sentence for him. "And I let you."

That surprised him. A faint smile tugged at his lips-just enough to show a dimple I hadn't noticed before. God, he was infuriating and beautiful in the same breath.

"I should probably give you a name," he said with a nervous laugh, stepping back just enough to let the air cool between us. "I'm Adrian."

"Kelly." I tried to smile, but it felt shaky, like the rest of me.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward-it was full. Full of questions, full of the weight of something that hadn't happened yet but might. Slowly.

"I don't usually do things like this," I said.

He nodded. "Neither do I."

And somehow, I believed him.

We stood there a little longer, not touching, just looking. No more words were needed. Not tonight.

We didn't move toward the bed.

Not right away.

Instead, we stood there-barely a breath apart, hearts racing out of sync, trying to memorize the shape of this moment.

Adrian reached for my hand, fingers brushing over mine with a kind of reverence, like he wasn't sure I'd let him hold it. I did. His hand was warm, a little rough around the edges, grounding me in ways I didn't expect.

He pulled me gently toward the couch, not the bed. That said something. Everything, actually.

We sat side by side, his thigh barely touching mine. I could feel the tension in his body-he was holding back. Not out of disinterest, but out of intention. Like he didn't want to rush a single second of whatever this was.

"Talk to me," he said softly. His voice wasn't demanding-it was an invitation.

I turned to face him, knees brushing. "About what?"

"Anything. Everything. Just... don't shut down. Not with me."

That cracked something open in me.

So I talked.

About the weight I carried. The ache in my chest I didn't let anyone see. He listened like no one else ever had-not to fix me, but to understand me.

We got quiet after that. The kind of silence that only comes when two people know they've just shown too much-but aren't afraid of it anymore.

He leaned in.

But not for a kiss.

He rested his forehead against mine. Our eyes closed, breaths mingling, hearts finding a new rhythm together.

His hand slid up, gently cradling the back of my neck. Not to pull me closer-just to hold me there, in that fragile space where something real was blooming.

"Whatever this is," I whispered, "it scares the hell out of me."

He smiled, just enough for me to feel it against my skin. "Me too. That's how I know it's worth it."

The second his lips found mine again, it was different.

Not rushed like before. Not hesitant like the moments between.

This was fire breaking through restraint-controlled, but barely.

His hands weren't timid anymore. They roamed my sides, my back, my thighs-like he needed to memorize the map of me with his palms. Every touch sent heat spiraling under my skin, every breath between us sharp and desperate.

I clung to his shirt, fingers twisted in the fabric like it was the only thing keeping me from falling. And maybe it was. Falling into him. Into this.

We moved without words-gravitating toward the bed now, pulled by a force neither of us could ignore anymore.

He kissed down my neck, jaw tight, hands gripping my hips like he couldn't get close enough. I felt wild in his arms-like something untamed finally being seen. And he... he wasn't trying to tame me.

He was meeting me there, in that wildness.

Every time his fingers found bare skin, I felt the air vanish from my lungs. He made a sound-somewhere between a growl and a groan-when I slid my hands under his shirt, feeling the taut muscle beneath. His body trembled under my touch, just like mine did under his.

We were skin and sparks and everything in between.

But it wasn't just heat.

It was the way he looked at me when he pulled back for air-like I was the only thing that had ever made sense. The way his thumb brushed over my lips as if he was still trying to believe I was real.

"You drive me insane," he whispered, forehead pressed against mine, his breath hot and ragged.

"Then don't stop," I said.

He didn't.

Clothes disappeared, breathless laughter tangled with gasps and groans, and time melted away.

It wasn't just physical-it was consuming. His hands were everywhere: gripping my hips, pressing into my lower back, holding me like he was afraid I'd disappear. His eyes didn't leave mine, even as his pace grew rough, desperate-each thrust wild, purposeful, and impossibly satisfying.

I arched into him, meeting every movement with a hunger I hadn't known I was capable of. My breath came in short, broken moans, the sound of our bodies filling the room in rhythmic chaos. The sheets tangled beneath us, but neither of us cared. We were too busy unraveling each other.

He kissed me like it hurt to stop.

And when he pulled away just enough to look at me, his voice was hoarse and unsteady. " You are something I've been chasing my whole life and im never let go."

I couldn't even find words-just a shiver that started in my spine and spread like wildfire through my veins, becausei didn'thear him through the moans. His name spilled from my lips like prayer and plea all at once.

His thrusts got deeper, harder, rough with longing but never careless. My nails dug into his back-leaving marks he wouldn't feel until morning-and he groaned against my neck like I was driving him insane.

I was.

And he was doing the same to me.

Our rhythm built, fast and fevered, but what undid me wasn't just the way he moved-it was the way he *felt*.

Present. Raw. Real.

Every thrust wasn't just about pleasure-it was about being known, being wanted. Like we were both pouring something into the space between us that neither of us could put into words.

And when we finally broke-him with a low, guttural cry, and me with a trembling gasp that shattered against his mouth-it wasn't an ending.

It was the beginning of something we couldn't undo.

He collapsed against me, breathless, heartbeat wild against my chest. Our fingers stayed laced together long after the storm had passed.

Neither of us said anything.

We didn't need to.

As I saw the stranger breathing evenly, I realized he was fast asleep. That was my chance to slip away unnoticed.

I carefully extracted myself from his arms, trying not to disturb him. My heart was racing as I grabbed my belongings and made a quiet exit.

As I stepped out into the cool night air, I felt a mix of relief and uncertainty. What had just happened? And why did I feel like I was running from more than just this stranger?