Sky's running late after lunch—heels clicking, lips glossed, pretending like her father didn't just give her another lecture about Ray Maddox.
She gets into the elevator.
And he's already inside.
Alone. Leaning against the mirrored wall like sin in a suit.
The moment the doors close, the silence goes electric.
---
Chapter 15: "Going Down?"
Sky's POV
This day can eat shit.
My phone's blowing up, my head's still spinning from the rooftop, and of course—I have to report back to Valen Enterprises with the face of a well-behaved heir.
I barely make it into the elevator before the doors start closing. Pressing the 31st floor, I take a breath.
And freeze.
He's here.
Ray Maddox.
Leaning back in that charcoal suit, eyes lazy but locked on me. One ankle crossed over the other like he owns the building.
Which he doesn't. I do.
Kind of.
"Maddox," I hiss.
He raises an eyebrow. "Princess."
I hate that nickname. Almost as much as I hate how much I like the way he says it.
The elevator groans. Starts to move.
"So," he drawls, stepping closer. "How's your dad?"
I whip around. "Shut up."
"I mean, I'm guessing he still wouldn't be thrilled to know his daughter's favorite flavor is Maddox."
My breath catches. "You're disgusting."
He smirks and reaches up—pressing the emergency stop button.
The elevator halts with a jolt. Silence.
He traps me instantly. His body against mine. One arm above my head, the other tracing my jaw.
"Say it, Sky."
"Say what?"
"That you thought about me when you were eating that dessert-latte this morning."
"I didn't—"
"That you wanted to crawl across the lecture bench and sit on my lap."
"Ray—"
"That you like when I touch your thigh under the table, even when everyone's watching."
I'm breathless. Weak. Furious.
His mouth is inches from mine now. "You wore lipstick today," he says, fingers brushing my lips. "Want to see if it leaves a mark?"
I lunge.
Our kiss is teeth and fire. His hands on my hips, mine gripping his shoulders. Heat coils in my stomach like a live wire.
His mouth moves to my ear. "You know this elevator has cameras, right?"
I gasp.
He laughs.
"Relax," he whispers. "They're turned off after hours."
Then he lifts me.
And I don't stop him.
---
I don't even remember grabbing his tie—only that he wasn't wearing one. Just that open collar, those two undone buttons, and the smell of him—dark spice and bad decisions.
"You're a fucking menace," I breathe against his lips.
He grins, low and lazy. "You knew that before you stepped in."
I don't answer. I bite.
His breath hitches. Hands grip my thighs as he presses me harder against the cold mirror. The air feels tight—like the walls are too close, like I'll combust if I don't feel him everywhere.
And god, he makes sure I do.
His mouth trails down my jaw, along my neck. Kisses like threats. Teeth like promises.
"You're shaking," he mutters against my collarbone.
"Because you're a fucking problem," I hiss, nails digging into his shoulders.
He chuckles. "Then solve me."
His hands push up my dress slowly—like he's daring me to stop him.
I don't.
I can't.
"I hate you," I gasp as his mouth finds my skin again.
"No, you don't."
"I do."
"Tell that to your hips."
I hate how right he is. How I arch into him without thinking. How I want him and hate him and want him again.
The elevator is silent except for our breathing—shallow, ragged, hungry. His palm presses over my thigh, slipping higher until I gasp.
"You're wet," he whispers against my ear. "Tell me that's not for me."
"Go to hell."
He grins, unbothered, unhinged. "Ladies first."
Then his hand moves again—and this time I moan.
It's quiet, desperate, everything I didn't mean to let slip. My head falls back, hitting the mirror behind me, my legs tightening around his waist.
"God, Sky," he groans. "You're killing me."
Good.
I grip his hair, dragging his mouth back to mine, kissing him so hard I swear I see stars. I'm burning. Melting. Coming apart.
And I don't care.
Let my father see. Let the building burn.
Right now, I'm only his.
---
Ray's POV
(Elevator. Emergency stop. Her legs around my waist. Her lips ruining me. Her scent everywhere.)
---
Her legs lock around me like a curse. Her mouth? That's a goddamn weapon.
And I'm smiling like the sick bastard I am—because I've never wanted to lose a war this badly.
"Sky fucking Valen," I murmur against her lips, voice low, wrecked. "Wearing white like you're not the devil incarnate."
She smirks against my mouth. "Say that again and I'll bite."
"Promise?"
Her fingers tangle in my hair, yanking like she knows exactly how far she can take me. She doesn't.
Not yet.
But she's about to.
The hem of her dress is bunched around her waist. Her thigh is smooth under my palm, burning hot. My other hand's flat on the mirror behind her, just to stop myself from losing it completely.
Because she's making those breathy little noises again.
Because I'm hard enough to lose my fucking mind.
Because the way she's grinding against me isn't fair—slow, measured, intentional.
Like she knows what she's doing to me.
Like she wants to break me.
I catch her jaw and drag her face back to mine. Our mouths crash again, messy and greedy. She tastes like that vanilla bullshit coffee she drinks and sin.
Pure, filthy sin.
"You should've worn this dress the night we met," I growl, dragging my lips down her neck. "Would've saved time."
"You would've ripped it."
"Still might."
Her laugh's breathless, wild. I kiss it off her mouth.
Then she says, "You know my dad's going to murder you if he finds out—"
I shove my hips against hers. Her words crumble into a gasp.
"Then you better keep quiet, sweetheart," I whisper darkly. "Because if someone hears you scream my name…"
She moans—too loud. I slam my palm over her mouth.
Her eyes burn into mine, wide and wicked.
Fuck.
That look alone could end me.
"You're trouble," I breathe.
She licks my palm, slow. Deliberate.
"I'm your fucking nightmare," she whispers.
I smile, dark and slow.
"No, baby. You're my favorite mistake."