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I swallowed hard. The grip was firm. Possessive. Perfect.
“Then make it real,” I said.
His nostrils flared.
We didn’t speak for a while. Not because there was nothing to say. But because everything worth saying was humming in the air between us, pulsing hotter with every block. And wherever he was taking me, I hoped there was a bed.
Because if he didn’t touch me soon, I was going to do something much crazier than climb a bridge. I was going to fall. All the way. And I had a feeling Elias Dane wasn’t the type to catch gently.
The silence stretched, thick with everything unspoken, vibrating between us like a wire pulled too tight.
His hand was still on my wrist, thumb brushing slow circles over my pulse, but my brain—my reckless, thrill-junkie brain—was already pivoting. Because here was the truth: as much as I wanted him—his mouth, his hands, that dangerous energy coiled like a fuse under his skin—I didn’t want to surrender. Not yet.
The chase was too much fun.
He was a puzzle, a fortress, a man who stared down firewalls and international threats without blinking … and here he was, climbing bridges like I was the threat.
I didn’t want to end that game just yet. I wanted to stretch it, tease it, pull him further out of control.
So I smiled sweetly and pulled my wrist free.
“Actually,” I said, settling back against the seat, “I think I want a drink.”
He didn’t look at me.
Didn’t need to.
“No.”
The word landed like a gavel.
I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not walking into a bar after what you just did. You’re recognizable now. You’re trending.” He gestured vaguely toward the console, where his phone had buzzed every thirty seconds “You want to get cornered by drunk idiots and TikTok clout chasers? Be my guest. But I’m not letting you.”
“Letting me?” I echoed, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.
His jaw ticked.
“Vivi—”
I saw it then. The shift. The smallest crack in that hard, unshakable shell.
He was scared.
Not of me. Of what I did to him. Of how far he’d already come for a girl who stood on ledges and smiled at helicopters like she was waving to God.
So I did what I did best.
I pushed.
As we rolled to a stop at a red light, I unlatched my door and popped it open.
“Vivienne,” he snapped, but I was already sliding out, landing lightly on the sidewalk with a dancer’s grace.
The city buzzed around me—warm air, neon glows, the hum of life. I turned toward him and leaned down through the open passenger window.
“I’m going for a drink,” I said, eyes gleaming. “You can come with me. Or you can sit in your car and sulk. Your choice, Cipher.”