The following nights fell into a dangerous rhythm. Ava would finish work, drive straight to the site, and wait for the rain. Each time Theo's voice returned stronger, richer, wrapping around her like invisible hands.
They argued about the skylight garden with surprising heat. Ava wanted something minimalist and calming; Theo insisted on night-blooming jasmine and soft winding paths.
"You design silence because the world is too loud for you," he said one evening, his tone intimate. "But even silence can be lonely. Let the garden have a little wildness. Let it breathe."
She sat cross-legged on the floor, tablet forgotten beside her. "Why do you know me so well?"
"Because I've walked through this finished building a thousand times," he answered. "And every time, I wished someone like you had designed it with heart instead of just precision."
The compliment landed like a caress. Ava felt her skin warm. She asked about his life in the future. He spoke of late nights revising plans, of a quiet apartment that never quite felt like home. He admitted he had built emotional walls as high as any skyscraper after losing his mentor young.
"I thought perfection would protect me," he confessed. "But talking to you makes those walls feel unnecessary."
Ava's fingers traced idle patterns on her knee. "I build quiet spaces because noise hurts. But lately… your voice doesn't feel like noise."
A long, charged pause stretched between them.
"Then let me be the sound you crave," Theo murmured, voice dropping to that velvet rasp that made her thighs press together. "Close your eyes, Ava. Imagine my fingers brushing the hair from your neck. Slow. Gentle. Feeling your pulse race under my touch."
Her breath hitched. She did close her eyes. The image was vivid — warm fingertips, the ghost of breath against her skin. Heat pooled between her legs.
"Tell me what you feel," he coaxed softly.
"Warm," she whispered. "Too warm."
A low, pleased sound escaped him. "Good. Keep feeling it for me."
They didn't go further that night, but the air in the atrium felt thicker when she finally left, body humming with unspent desire.