Ethan Sullivan's expression remained calm.
His tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.
Yet his fingertips tightened slightly.
Sophia Sullivan appeared even more indifferent.
She didn't hesitate for even a second.
"Doesn't count."
Her response was flippant.
"Someone's skills were lacking that night."
Ethan's gaze darkened.
He remembered the loose change on the nightstand.
Sophia lifted her eyes.
Their gazes collided.
Sparks flew in the air between them.
Ethan's pulse quickened.
His voice turned husky.
"Give me a chance to prove otherwise."
"No."
Sophia sounded bored.
"One strike, you're out."
The elevator doors slid open.
They stepped in simultaneously.
The space fell into sudden silence.
As the doors began closing,
Ethan rose from his wheelchair.
Sophia yanked his tie.
Their eyes locked again.
Blood burned in their veins.
Both knew exactly what was happening.
"Nice tie, Mr. Sullivan."
"Your eyes are more captivating, Ms. Sullivan."
Ethan's palm cupped the nape of her neck.
Sophia tightened her grip on his tie.
Their gazes tangled.
Souls laid bare.
Hearts pounding like war drums.
Moving in perfect sync,
their lips met.
Fiery.
Lingering.
Possessive.
This kiss bore no resemblance to that drunken night.
It was a battle fought soberly.
A duel of lips and teeth.
Neither willing to yield.
Breaths mingling,
Sophia pulled his tie tighter.
The air grew thin between them.
Ethan tangled his fingers in her hair,
wanting to fuse her into his very being.
A sharp inhale.
No clear victor.
Push and pull.
Testing boundaries.
Each striving for dominance.
Each trying to unravel the other.
Using their bodies as chess pieces,
strategizing every move,
yet fearing surrender.
The thrill of meeting one's match
seeped into their bones.
The elevator descended rapidly.
Cool air from the underground garage rushed in,
carrying the scent of gardenias.
"Ding—"
The doors opened.
They separated,
as if waking from a shared dream.
Sophia walked toward her car,
twirling the keys around her finger.
"Goodbye, Mr. Sullivan."
She turned and left,
clean and decisive,
the very picture of a heartbreaker.
Her sports car roared to life,
disappearing from view.
Ethan's entire body burned.
"Goodbye, Ms. Sullivan."
He'd never been one for women,
let alone kissing.
But this was different.
That night had been instinct taking over.
This was conscious warfare.
Sophia remained an enigma to him,
like turbulent waters beneath a calm surface.
Desire and reason—
she balanced both effortlessly.
Ethan chuckled darkly.
"Played me like a damn fiddle."
She'd kissed him and walked away,
leaving no trace,
forcing him to decipher the encounter alone.
The garage smelled of gardenias.
The cold air bore witness to their momentary weakness.
The flower's meaning surfaced in his mind:
Eternal love and unbreakable vows.