The elevator hung between floors like a suspended breath. Rain pounded the shaft outside, a distant roar that matched the storm building inside the small metal box.
Martin had stepped back.
One deliberate stride. Then another.
Until he was pressed against the opposite mirrored wall, arms crossed so tightly the fabric of his shirt strained across his shoulders. His chest rose and fell too fast. His eyes dark, stormy, almost black locked on Fiona like she was the only thing keeping him from shattering.
Fiona stayed where she was, back flat against her own wall, fingers curled around the handrail so hard her knuckles turned white. Her lips still tingled from the kiss they'd already shared. Her pulse thundered between her thighs.
The silence stretched thick, electric, suffocating.
Martin broke it first.
"Why?" His voice was low, gravel-rough, barely controlled. "Why the fuck did you leave that morning?"
Fiona's breath snagged in her throat.
