Oyin Fakoya

Against The Wall Libby ❦ "Never again," I mutter under my breath, glaring down at my feet like they chose to betray me. I shift my weight onto my heels, trying-and failing-to relieve the burn in my arches. I must have lost my mind for a minute this morning. It's the only logical explanation. Why else would I wear brand-new seven-inch Louboutins on a Monday? To work, no less? My fingers tighten around the cardboard coffee cup in my hand and I exhale, scanning the hallway for an elevator. One more minute standing on these heels and I might just collapse. Right here. In front of accounting. Death by fashion. Finally an elevator dings nearby and I almost cry in relief. Just a few more minutes now, and I'd be kicking off these damn heels and icing my ankles under my desk. I adjusted my grip on the coffee, roll my shoulders back and step inside, only to hear rapid footsteps behind me, followed by a clipped, familiar voice. "Hold the door." No. Nope. Not today. But my fingers betray me and I hit the 'Open' button anyway. The doors slide back, and in walks Jude fucking Carter-late as usual, looking like every HR violation wrapped in an expensive suit. He's the reason we have stress migraines in marketing. Also the reason I spend way too much time thinking about things I shouldn't. His tie is loose. Hair's a mess. He looks like he sprinted the whole way here. And of course, he smells expensive and smug. "Thanks," he mutters, brushing past me to lean against the wall opposite. We don't make eye contact. I hate that I know his cologne. I hate that I like it. The doors slide shut, and instantly, the air feels tighter. Jude lets out a breath, and it's a dramatic exhale as he runs a hand through his jet-black hair. "Of all the elevators in this building," he murmurs, and I roll my eyes. My feet are screaming, and I don't have time for drama this morning. "Don't flatter yourself. I was here first," I manage a response and he lifts a brow, that insufferable smirk tugging at his lips. "Trust me, Lena, if I were flattering myself, we'd both know." I scoff and shift my weight again. I glance down at the cup in my hand, then up at him. He notices. "What? No coffee for your favorite coworker?" "If only I was in the habit of poisoning people," I mutter. He chuckles. It's a deep, low chuckle-infuriatingly and unnecessarily attractive. I start to roll my eyes. And then, all of a sudden, a harsh jolt throws the elevator down an inch with a groan. I gasp, stumble forward, and"Shit!" I cry out as liquid pops off my cup. Hot coffee spills everywhere. All over me. All over him. I look down at my shirt. White. Flimsy. Absolutely see-through now. "Are you..." Jude starts to ask, but his eyes drop just for a second and his words fade out. His jaw visibly tenses. His voice lowers. "You okay?" "I-yeah. I just-" I look up. He's slightly crouched over me now- an odd expression written all over his facehis face dangerously close to mine. My breath catches in my throat and his gaze lingers on mine. Something shifts in the air between us. Something I've fought forever to suppress. It's not anger. It's not our now-too-familiar workplace rivalry. It's heat. Pure, electric heat. Jude shifts closer, and it's almost like he isn't in control of his movements. I can feel my pulse stuttering as his eyes flick to my shirt, still clinging to my skin, my heaving boobs visible underneath my red bra. His throat bobs. "This is-" I start to say something, but the words dissolve as he moves even closer to me, his chest brushing mine. "I didn't mean to-" I whisper, but there's no room for explanations now. Not when his hand reaches out like he might touch me. Not when I don't move away. The elevator comes back alive. The overhead light flickers once then stabilizes, but nothing else does. "Lena," he says my name, gentle yet rough. And something inside me just... snaps. I lean forward, my fingers pulling on his loose tie, dragging him down to meet me. Our mouths collide like we've been holding back for years. His hand comes up, catches my waist, then presses me against the wall in one fluid motion. Our kiss deepens, all tongue, teeth, and tension. There's nothing gentle about it. Nothing careful. No teasing. Just weeks, months, and years of rivalry exploding in a single reckless kiss that neither of us planned.