POV – Elena
Sunlight filtered softly through the blinds, painting stripes across the bedspread, but I barely noticed it. My mind was still tangled in the remnants of last night — the kiss, the feel of him, the way he had lingered in my thoughts even after the door closed.
I shifted under the sheets, heart hammering despite the quiet of the morning. I had to remind myself to breathe. Every muscle in me was taut with anticipation, a heat I couldn't explain, a longing that was new and frightening. This is insane, I told myself, reaching for my phone on the bedside table.
My thumb hovered over the screen. Should I text him? Don't be foolish, a small voice whispered, but it was drowned by another, louder one: You can't stop thinking about him. Just say something.
I unlocked the phone and stared at the blank message screen.
Good morning…
I deleted it almost immediately. Too casual. Too weak.
Last night was… incredible.
No. Too forward.
I sighed, frustrated, biting the inside of my cheek. I needed advice. I needed someone to remind me that I wasn't losing my mind. I reached for my phone again, opening my messaging app and typing to my best friend:
"You will not believe what happened last night."
I hit send before I could second-guess myself, my fingers trembling slightly. A few seconds later, my phone buzzed with her immediate response:
"Tell me everything! What happened?!"
I smiled, even though my cheeks were already warm. I began typing, recounting the dinner, the subtle touches, the way he looked at me, the kiss at the door. Every word made my pulse race again, as though I was reliving it all for the first time.
Then came the other impulse — the one that was impossible to resist. I started a new message to him, hesitant, deleting and rewriting multiple times. Finally, my fingers typed:
"I keep thinking about last night. I… I can't get it out of my head."
I paused. Could I really send it? It was bold, intimate, and completely true. But my thumb hovered over the send button for longer than I cared to admit.
He won't think I'm crazy… will he?
I pressed send anyway, heart thundering in my chest. Within moments, my phone vibrated with his reply:
"I can't get it out of my head either."
I sank back into the pillows, breathless, a flush of heat rushing over me. My mind was a whirlwind of excitement, disbelief, and an ache I couldn't describe. I glanced at my best friend's messages, still buzzing with curiosity, and couldn't stop smiling.
It was only morning, and yet I felt as if my whole world had shifted. Every thought, every heartbeat, every tiny moment carried him — and the memory of last night.
I lay there for a long while, staring at the ceiling, my fingers brushing the sheets, imagining him, thinking of the kiss, the feel of his hand, the intensity in his eyes. My heart ached in a way that was sweet, terrifying, and completely consuming.
I had to see him again. I needed to see him again.
And the thought made every rational warning I'd ever had vanish completely.
I lay there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, my phone resting on the pillow beside me. James's words burned through me even though they were so simple, so brief: "I can't get it out of my head either."
The thrill was dizzying. My chest tightened, my stomach fluttered, and I felt like I had just teetered on the edge of something I couldn't control. Every rational thought I tried to cling to — he's your boss, he's untouchable, don't do anything stupid — dissolved beneath the force of desire and curiosity that had taken root inside me.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat up, hair falling in soft waves around my face. The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet, as though it, too, were holding its breath for me. I wrapped a robe around myself and paced a little, my thoughts looping in endless circles. He's thinking about me. He wants me. Why does it feel like he's been inside my head all night?
The memory of the kiss at the door returned, vivid and burning. His lips, so commanding yet gentle; the brush of his hand against my jaw; the warmth that had spread through me in that single, impossible moment. I could feel it again now, a deep ache that made my pulse race and my body tense.
Unable to stay still, I grabbed my phone and typed a quick message to my best friend, fingers trembling:
"I think I'm losing my mind. He replied. He said he can't get it out of his head either. I… I don't know what to do."
Within moments, the reply came:
"Elena… this is bad. But… amazing kind of bad. Don't overthink it. Text him again, just say what you feel. Don't hold back."
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen. Part of me wanted to tell her I couldn't — that he was James Ashford, the perfect, untouchable, infuriatingly irresistible man — and another part burned to take her advice.
The apartment felt impossibly small, every quiet corner echoing with my thoughts of him. I paced again, poured a cup of coffee I barely tasted, and let my mind wander to the night before — the wine, the laughter, the stolen moments that had felt like a private world just for us.
By late morning, I couldn't resist anymore. I crafted another message to James, simple, tentative, but honest:
"I keep thinking about last night. And… I want to see you again."
I pressed send and immediately felt my heartbeat spike. He won't think I'm overstepping. He won't… The thought trailed off as I imagined him reading the message, that calm, composed expression on his face, and my stomach twisted.
Minutes felt like hours as I waited, checking my phone compulsively. And when it finally vibrated, I nearly dropped it:
"I was hoping you'd say that."
I sank back onto the pillows, laughing softly, a blush burning across my cheeks. My heart raced, my body ached, and I realized, with a thrill that both terrified and exhilarated me, that my entire Sunday would now revolve around him.
Every thought, every glance toward the phone, every beat of my heart carried him. The world outside my apartment might continue its mundane rhythm, but for me, nothing was ordinary anymore. I was consumed.
Consumed by James Ashford.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.