Page 70

it’s always been her

KIERAN

T he crowd is fading behind us, swallowed up by the hum of traffic and the golden blur of streetlights. Ellie’s hand is tucked into mine—warm and sure—her thumb brushing absently over my knuckles like she doesn’t even realise she’s doing it.

We’re not saying much. Don’t need to. The air between us is thick with something electric, something inevitable. Her heels click softly against the pavement as we walk, her laugh from moments ago still echoing somewhere in the back of my mind.

Theo’s ridiculous commentary. Luca’s parting shout. My warning to the others not to come anywhere near the apartment. It was all noise. Loud, chaotic, stupidly perfect noise. But now, it’s just us.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye.

She’s radiant. And not in the cliché sense people throw around like confetti.

She’s the kind of radiant that lives in the way her shoulders are finally relaxed, in the way she walks like she’s not bracing for something anymore.

Her dress clings to her like a secret, her hair slightly damp from the rain, and there’s a faint flush on her cheeks that’s got nothing to do with champagne.

She looks over at me, eyes sharp and amused. “What’s the plan, rockstar?”

I can’t help the smile that tugs at my mouth. “The plan?”

“Yeah,” she says, tilting her head, her voice lilting with playfulness. “You’ve got this look, like you’ve got something up your sleeve.”

I stop walking just long enough to turn to her fully, fingers tightening slightly around hers. “There’s only one plan, Ellie.”

“Oh yeah?”

My response is nothing more than a low, rough, “Mmhmm.”

And then I lean in.

Her breath catches just before my mouth finds hers.

Slow, and deliberate, with the pressure that promises more.

Her lips part on instinct, soft, warm, and slightly sweet from the champagne.

I deepen it just enough to feel her sway closer.

Her hand curls lightly into the front of my shirt, her fingers brushing over the buttons like she’s already imagining undoing them.

When we finally break apart, she’s breathless. Glowing.

Her voice is low, but laced with intent. “Wave down a taxi, Hayes. Now .”

And fuck if I don’t move like it’s the most urgent thing I’ve ever been told to do.

We pile into the back of the taxi like it’s an escape car.

Ellie’s pressed up against me, her leg brushing mine, the heat of her body sinking into my skin through the damp fabric of her dress.

And Christ, that slit, every time she shifts, the fabric parts just enough to flash smooth skin and the promise of more, and it’s doing unspeakable things to my self-control.

The driver mumbles something about the rain, about the roads being slick, but I don’t hear it. I can’t think about anything except the way her fingers curl around my thigh like she owns it. Like she’s been waiting all night to touch me.

She doesn’t say a word. Just rests her hand there, her thumb stroking idle, dangerous little circles against my jeans.

I swear I feel every pass of her touch like a lightning strike straight through the centre of me.

My body’s already on high alert, heart racing like I’ve run a marathon instead of sitting completely still.

I glance at her. She’s looking out the window, all casual elegance, like she’s not setting my entire nervous system on fire. Her lips are curved in the faintest smirk.

“I can feel you staring,” she says softly.

“Not even gonna pretend I’m not,” I murmur.

She finally turns to me then, her eyes catching mine, low and molten. “You planning on doing something about it?”

“Soon as we get through that door,” I say, voice rough with everything I’m holding back.

Her fingers flex slightly on my thigh, and I feel it like a pulse.

The taxi turns the last corner and I reach over, brushing a damp curl away from her cheek.

She leans into my touch, just slightly, her eyes on mine like they’ve got nowhere else to be.

Then, as we pull up outside the apartment, I toss the driver a few notes without even checking the total, already reaching for the door.

Ellie takes my hand, fingers tight in mine, heels clicking as we half-run, half-laugh toward the building entrance. Her dress clings to her legs, satin dark with rain, and her laugh floats through the air like it belongs to another world. Something wild and free and impossibly real.

By the time we’re inside, wet and breathless, I know one thing for sure.

I’m not letting her out of my arms tonight.

The ride up feels longer than it is. The elevator glides slowly, the floor numbers blinking overhead, and Ellie leans back against the mirrored wall like she’s posing for a magazine shoot and has no idea. Except she does. She definitely does.

The slit of her dress parts again, revealing more of that endless leg, and I swear I nearly groan out loud.

Her skin’s still damp from the rain, glistening faintly in the low light.

A curl sticks to her collarbone. Her lips are parted just slightly, chest rising and falling like she’s barely keeping herself together.

And fuck —same.

She catches me looking. Smirks. Lifts an eyebrow like she’s daring me to say something.

I don’t. I step in close and her breath catches.

She tips her chin up just enough to meet my gaze, and I watch the heat flicker in her eyes, something alive and hungry and entirely mine.

“Come here often?” She murmurs, voice all velvet and challenge.

I don’t answer. I just look at her. Because there’s no witty comeback left in me. No smart remark. Just want. Thick and hot and curling low in my gut.

The space between us vibrates with tension, like a wire stretched to its limit, ready to snap.

Her fingers find my wrist. Not pulling. Not guiding. Just touching.

And it’s enough to unravel me.

I shift closer, one hand braced beside her head, the other skimming the bare curve of her hip where the dress parts, sliding just high enough to make her eyes flutter.

“Kieran…”

My name on her lips is barely a breath. Barely a sound.

But it wrecks me.

I lean in and our mouths crash together like they’ve been waiting for this all night. She gasps into the kiss, and I drink it in, taking my time, letting my tongue slide against hers—deep and slow.

She moans softly, hips tilting just enough to make me groan into her mouth.

My hand slides down her back, fingers splaying at the base of her bare spine where the fabric dips low.

Anchoring her to me as my other hand slips just beneath the edge of her dress.

Enough to feel silk, skin and temptation.

Then, the elevator dings and the doors slide open, shattering the moment.

It takes everything in me to pull away, to grab her hand instead of backing her into the mirrored wall and forgetting the rest of the night exists.

“Come,” I rasp, guiding her out like I’ve still got my shit together.

She follows, quiet and breathless, heels clicking against the marble floor as we make our way down the hall. Until her voice cuts through the tension, low and dry behind me.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Hayes.”

I glance back, and she’s smirking. Just barely. But it’s there, and it hits me harder than it should.

“Careful,” I say, voice still thick. “I might take that as encouragement.”

“Please do.”

Jesus .

This woman.

The key slips into the lock with a quiet click.

Behind me, Ellie’s close. So close I can feel the heat of her breath against the back of my neck. Her silence is louder than anything. Thick, expectant, and laced with want.

The door creaks open, and I hold it for her. She brushes past, her hand trailing across my chest as she steps inside. Nothing more than fingertips, but it leaves a fire in its wake. The door clicks shut behind us with a finality that feels a lot like fate.

She’s already halfway into the apartment by the time I turn, like she owns the place, like she owns me.

The hem of that navy dress flutters around her ankles as she turns back to face me, framed by the city lights behind her.

Her skin glows gold in the room’s warmth, and her hair’s still a little damp from the rain, strands curling wildly around her face.

I drink her in.

Every curve, every detail, every inch of exposed skin I haven’t touched yet.

Then my eyes drop.

“That slit,” I mutter. “Should be illegal.”

Then she grins. Like she knows. Like she planned it that way.

I back her toward the sofa, hands at her hips, walking slowly—like I’m dragging out every second. The dress shifts with every step. Satin brushing against her skin, that slit teasing more and more. And I swear it’s the only thing keeping me from dropping to my knees right here.

She hits the edge of the sofa and doesn’t stop, just sinks into the cushions. Legs folding with effortless grace, hair tumbling around her shoulders like something out of a dream I’ve had far too many times.

I reach out slowly as I gaze down at her. My fingers trace along her jaw, feather-light, then down her cheeks. She leans into the touch like it steadies her. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, watching her breath catch.

“Ellie,” I murmur, voice thick. “You’re so beautiful.”

I kneel in front of her, and as she parts her thighs to let me in, the fabric of her dress falls away completely, baring the smooth length of her thigh. My breath leaves me in a rush.

I rest my hands just above her knees, gliding upward.

“Jesus,” I whisper. “You’re gonna kill me.”

She smiles, fingers combing through my hair, light and teasing.

“You complaining?”

“Not even close.”

I press a kiss to the inside of her knee, slow and reverent, then another a little higher. Her breath hitches, the smallest sound, but it lands like thunder in my chest. I drag my lips up her thigh, tasting salt and heat and the faint trace of her perfume.

When I reach the point where the dress still covers her, I pause and look up.

Her eyes are locked on mine. Full of fire.