Roxxy stepped out of her building, locking the door with shaking hands. The morning felt wrong—too quiet, too expectant, like the air was waiting for something to happen.
She didn't see Andrew at first.
But she felt him.
A presence behind her, slow and deliberate, like a shadow stepping into its rightful place.
"Roxxy."
She jumped, spinning around—
and he was right there.
Closer than ever.
Too close.
Her back hit the door, breath catching in her throat. Andrew didn't reach for her immediately. He just watched her with that unblinking intensity that made her knees weaken.
"You didn't answer my last message," he said softly.
"I— I didn't know what to say…"
"You say the truth."
He lifted his hand, slow enough for her to stop him.
She didn't.
Andrew's fingers brushed her cheek—light at first, almost gentle. The touch was soft, but the intention behind it was not. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, sending heat crawling under her skin.
Roxxy's breath stuttered.
"Andrew… don't…"
His voice dropped lower. "Tell me to stop."
She opened her mouth—
but nothing came out.
Her silence made something dark flicker in his eyes.
He stepped closer, closing the tiny distance between them until she could feel the warmth of his body. His hand slid from her cheek to the side of her neck—not squeezing, not hurting, just resting there. Claiming space he had no right to claim.
Roxxy's pulse punched against his palm.
"You're scared," Andrew murmured. "But you're not running."
Her fingers curled against the door behind her. "I should."
"Should," he echoed, leaning in until his forehead nearly touched hers, "but you're not."
His thumb brushed her pulse point, slow, deliberate.
"You're warm."
"That doesn't— that doesn't mean anything," she whispered.
"It means everything."
His hand tilted her chin up with a quiet command.
"You feel this too, Roxxy."
She shook her head, but the motion made his fingers slide against her skin, and heat shot through her chest.
Andrew's voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her:
"I touched your cheek because I wanted to."
His thumb glided once more across her skin.
"If I ever touch you again… it won't be by accident."
Her heart pounded so hard it shook her entire body.
He finally let go.
Not because she asked.
But because he chose to.
Andrew stepped back just enough to give her air—but not enough to let her feel safe.
"I'll see you after work," he said quietly.
A statement.
Not a question.
Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her pressed against the door, breathless and trembling where he had touched her.
The skin he'd grazed still burned.
And she knew it wouldn't stop.