Rowen stepped into the elevator, head bowed, pressing the button for the lobby without a glance at anyone in the hallway. The doors were closing when a hand slid between them.

Rowen.

The doors opened just enough for him to step inside. He didn't say a word. Neither did you.

The doors shut, sealing you both in the narrow metal box.

Silence.

The hum of the elevator was the only sound, low and steady beneath the pounding in Rowen's ears. You stood a few feet apart, both staring at the glowing floor numbers overhead, pretending the other wasn't there. But every second, the air seemed to grow heavier, denser.

Rowen could feel your presence without even looking—how you filled the space, how the scent of your cologne lingered faintly between you. The last time you'd been this close, your hands had been tangled in Rowen's hair, your mouth hot against his skin.

The memory was a dangerous thing.

The elevator jolted suddenly, stopping dead. The lights flickered to a dim amber glow. Neither moved.

And then, without warning, you closed the distance.

One step. Two.

Your hand came up, flat against Rowen's chest, pushing him back until his shoulders hit the cool metal wall. Rowen's breath caught, but he didn't resist.

Fuck.