Page 27 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"But you didn't?—"

"It may not be your line, but it most certainly is mine. I won't compromise who I am because I've found a woman who is everything I've ever needed in a woman."

"Lucas…"

He pulls me into his chest, wraps his arms around me, and holds on.

Not like a man trying to claim.

But like one trying to steady us both.

He holds me.

Not possessively. Not to make a statement.

Just… steady.

Silent.

I don't know how long we stay like that—wrapped in warmth and shared breath, surrounded by the faint hum of the elevator still stuck in limbo—but it feels like forever.

Then the lights flicker.

Once.

Twice.

A low hum builds under our feet as the machinery groans to life.

The elevator lurches with a metallic clank, and the sudden brightness overhead floods the space—too sharp, too much.

Lucas steps back like I've burned him.

I flinch, too, instinctively tugging the hem of the sweater down over my thighs. My legs are still bare, the borrowed pants forgotten somewhere on the floor between us.

His mouth opens slightly. Then closes again. Whatever was just between us—gone in a breath.

He bends, retrieves my pants without looking at me, and holds them out.

I take them from his hand without speaking.

He turns to face the panel and presses a button. The elevator shudders back into motion and rises.

I dress in silence.

So does he.

The air between us isn't tense exactly. It's just… unfinished.

The intimacy is still there, clinging to the corners like fog, but now it feels too visible in the light. Too real, but the silence is deafening.

The elevator doors glide open with a soft ding, spilling us into the top-floor hallway. It has plush carpet and dim emergency lighting humming overhead.

Neither of us moves.

I clutch the folded waistband of the leggings in my hands, suddenly very aware that I'm still reeling.

Lucas clears his throat.

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