The elevator rises slowly, but the silence between you is anything but calm.

Clayton presses the cover button with his eyes fixed on his. His breathing is still out of step. The red lips of the kiss. The hands? Closed, as if I were fighting against the urge to pull you again.

But he waits.

The “ding” of the elevator sounds.

You enter the roof.

The lights turn on automatically, revealing the dark marble apartment, panoramic windows, a luxurious scenery that now seems too small to contain what is about to happen.

You turn your back, stopping in the middle of the room.

“Clay...”

He approaches slowly, his breathing heavy.

“Are you sure?” He asks, hoarse voice. “Because after that... there’s no turning back.”

You take off the earrings slowly, turning your face over your shoulder.

“I spent so much time pretending I didn’t want you, that now I just want to stop pretending.”

And then he acts.

He crosses the space as if he couldn’t stand being away anymore. The hands take your waist, turn you firmly, the lips meet yours with an urgency that burns. The kiss is deep, desperate, as if every second lost between you needed to be recovered now.

His hands go up your back, down the curve of the tight dress, while you release the bow of his tie and slide the jacket down your shoulders. Clothes fall on the floor. Kisses become trails through necks, shoulders, backs.

He lays you on the leather couch, his dark eyes fixed on yours, as if he didn’t believe you were finally there - delivered, raw, real.

“Do you have any idea how much I thought about it?” He whispers against your skin. “How many nights have I wanted you by my side, and not the way the world thinks it should be?”

You hold his face between your hands.

“Then show me, Clay. Show me everything.”

And he shows it.

Slow at first. Then intense. Then again. As if the night was the only time allowed for you two to love each other without guilt, without masks, without restrictions.

There, between the dark sheets of the dawn, between muffled moans and wordless promises, you discover what has always been there:

It wasn’t just friendship. It never was.