Chapter 24: Uninvited
A pulse of heat coursed through me, uninvited, and unstoppable. I wanted to push him away, but I couldn’t move. I could only stare at him, my heart pounding in my throat, torn between anger and something that felt terrifyingly like desire.
And the worst part? Kevin knew it.
The moment his lips crashed into mine, the world just… stopped. Everything inside me that had been trembling with anger, confusion, and restraint melted into something I didn’t have the strength to name. His kiss wasn’t gentle — it was desperate, hungry, like he’d been holding back for far too long. My fingers moved on their own, curling around the back of his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space left between us.
My bag slipped from my shoulder and hit the elevator floor with a dull thud, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. His breath was hot against my mouth, his hand firm on my waist, pulling me against him until my pulse was a wild, frantic mess. I could feel his heartbeat under my palm — fast, strong, real.
When he pulled back, I almost chased his lips again. The emptiness that followed was unbearable, a cruel reminder of how wrong and right that kiss felt all at once. His gaze lingered on me, unreadable, before his voice came out in a low murmur, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“I love you too,” he said.
My breath caught. The words sliced through me, soft but devastating. Too? My mind snagged on that one word, looping it like a broken record. My throat tightened as I stared at him, trying to find something in his face that made sense of what I’d just heard.
“What… what did you just say?” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
Kevin didn’t answer right away. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing against my cheek like he had every right to touch me. His eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again as he turned away.
“Forget it,” he muttered, pressing the button to make the elevator move again.
The hum of the machinery filled the silence between us. He stood beside me now, composed — too composed — as if that kiss hadn’t just unraveled both of us. My chest was rising and falling too fast. I wanted to say something, anything, but the words felt like shards in my throat.
Then, his voice broke through the heavy quiet.
“By the way,” he began, exhaling sharply, “Sarah was the one who seduced me.”
I blinked, unsure I heard him right.
“What?”
Sarah said otherwise, probably to exempt herself from looking desperate.
“I was drunk. Frustrated. She came to me. I didn’t… plan for it to happen.” His tone was steady, but his eyes flickered with guilt. “I needed to let out some steam, and she was there. That’s why I fucked her.”
My jaw tightened. “Wow,” I said bitterly. “You make it sound so poetic.”
He let out a small, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I know that doesn’t count as an excuse.” His voice softened. “I’m sorry, Abby.”
That last word — my name on his lips — landed heavier than all the others. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Kevin stepped out without looking back, leaving me standing there, speechless, still reeling from everything — the kiss, the confession, the apology that came too late.
I stayed behind for a few seconds, staring at the space where he’d just been. The elevator doors began to close, and I caught my reflection in the mirrored wall — flushed cheeks, swollen lips, wide eyes. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. She looked wrecked.
The doors hadn’t even closed completely before I stepped out after him, needing to breathe air that wasn’t tainted with the scent of his cologne or the ghost of his kiss. My legs felt like they were made of water, barely obeying me, and I hated that about myself — hated that I could still feel my lips trembling from what just happened.
I bent to pick up my bag from where it had fallen earlier, my fingers brushing the cold elevator floor. The motion steadied me a little, gave me something small to focus on that wasn’t him. The leather strap slipped through my grip once before I managed to sling it over my shoulder again. My hands were shaking — not from fear exactly, but from everything I was trying to hold inside and not let spill out in this wide, echoing hallway.
The moment I stepped into the corridor, I forced my face into something neutral, something professional. People passed by, greeting me with polite smiles, but I barely registered them. All I could think about was Kevin’s voice still looping in my head.
I love you too.
That quiet confession had carved itself into my mind like a scar that wouldn’t fade.
The thought that he felt the same way I did, and the look in his eyes when he said it… that wasn’t something easily faked. I could still feel the warmth in it, the sincerity I didn’t want to believe in.
The heels of my shoes clicked against the marble floor as I walked down the hall, and the sound felt too loud, too sharp against the silence that lingered between my thoughts. I reached my office door, trying to breathe evenly. I didn’t want anyone to notice that my pulse was racing, that my chest was tight with something I couldn’t quite name.
When I pushed open the door, the familiar scent of my workspace — paper, perfume, and the faint trace of coffee — wrapped around me like a reminder of who I was supposed to be here. Not the woman who had just kissed her stepbrother. Not the woman whose heart had betrayed her. Just Abby — composed, responsible, the one who didn’t let feelings get in the way of logic.
I placed my bag on the desk and sat down slowly, pressing my palms flat on the glass surface to steady myself. My reflection stared back faintly from the desk — my lips still looked swollen. My eyes… God, they looked like they’d seen something forbidden and couldn’t unsee it.
I tried to shake the thought away, but every little thing — the faint taste on my tongue, the way my skin still hummed where he’d touched me — kept pulling me back to that moment. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a confession. A wound. A door that should have stayed shut but didn’t.