Page 65 of Velvet Corruption

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he said, and kept pouring the coffee. Exactly how I liked it. The jerk. My pride wanted me to refuse it, but the caffeine-addicted part of me won. I took a sip, and it was perfect. Of course it was.

“Don’t act like you’re proud of yourself,” I said, catching the way his mouth quirked up as he watched me drink.

“It’s not an act. Iamproud of myself.”

I glared at him. We sat in silence, the tension between us as hot and bittersweet as the coffee. As much as I hated to admit it, there was something weirdly comforting about this whole scenario. Me, injured and sleep-deprived. Him, maddeningly composed. It was like we were replaying some old scene we’d acted a hundred times before. Like the uneasy comfort of a well-worn bruise.

And for a fleeting second, I had a horrifying thought: I could get used to this.

The thought unsettled me so badly I put my coffee down, too hard, like that would help shake it loose from my brain.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t have stayed here.

Kieran was watching me—of course he was—leaning against the counter, eyes sharp as ever. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking so hard you had a physical reaction?”

“Gimme a break, okay? I’m exhausted and hurt.”

“Oh, I’m not judging…I just didn’t know thinking about me had that kind of effect on you.” His eyes dragged over me like I was his to look at.. “I thought it was cute. I liked it.”

I ignored him, pushing away from the table. My ribs protested the sudden movement, but I forced myself up anyway. Move. Get out. Go home. I grabbed my phone and winced—six missed messages from Alek.

Shit.

Kieran caught the way my face shifted, the way my posture stiffened. His voice stayed easy, infuriatingly smooth. “Finally remember you have somewhere to be?”

“Shut up.” I exhaled, pressing my right hand to my temple, which was a mistake. I felt hollowed out, strung too tight, stretched thin, and my hand ached like a motherfucker.

Note to self: apparently it takesmore than oneassistant D.A. to change a lightbulb.

Kieran took his time setting his own mug down before pushing off the counter. "I’ll drive you.”

I should’ve argued. I wanted to argue. But my hand still ached, and my body felt like I’d been thrown down a flight of stairs. And the thought of standing outside in the cold, waiting for an Uber, suddenly seemed like a very stupid hill to die on…especially because my car was in his fucking driveway.

So I nodded once, short and clipped. “Fine.”

Kieran smirked like I’d just lost some invisible game. He grabbed the keys to my car, moving like he’d known that I’d let him take me home.

I hated that. I hated him.

Mostly, I hated myself for following him out the door.

The drive back to my place was suffocating. Kieran didn’t say anything, and I didn’t trust myself to speak. The silence was dense, almost physical, like it was absorbing all the things we weren’t saying. The city slid by in a blur of streetlights and empty sidewalks. I was too exhausted to think straight but too wired to relax, my senses jumping at every passing car.

I snuck glances at him, watching the way his hands gripped the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road with the kind of focus that said he wasn’t ignoring me by accident. He knew I was here. Knew I was watching him, processing everything and nothing all at once. I tried to turn my attention to the scenery outside, but it was useless. The streets looked different now, somehow. The old familiarity felt foreign, like I was seeing them from a different angle entirely. An angle I shouldn’t have gotten used to.

Kieran shifted, and for a second, I thought he might actually speak, but the silence stretched on. It was almost unbearable, but at the same time, it felt oddly fitting.

Like anything we could’ve said would have ruined something delicate.

Or maybe that was just my sleep-deprived brain finding excuses for why I was still here, in my car, with him in the driver seat. I glanced at him again, catching the way his eyes flicked toward me and then back to the road. It sent an annoying little thrill down my spine, and I hated myself for it.

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