Chapter 7 #2
I gestured to my computer screen at the happy couple and pointed out the dates. “It’s not him, Langston. It’s someone else. Someone here in Goodwin Grove knows things only Leo would know. The cranes… someone here is replicating him.”
Langston’s expression shifted from concern to focused intensity, the security professional taking over. “Damn, you’re right. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Absolutely not. You can’t just appoint yourself my personal bodyguard.
You have a business to run.” I protested as Langston packed up his laptop, already planning our exit strategy.
The stubborn set of his jaw told me this argument was already lost. Langston, in protection mode, was a force of nature.
I remembered this from high school when Dalvin Wright wouldn’t stop hassling me at prom.
Back then, it was flattering. Now, with years of independence between us, it was like a step backward I wasn’t ready to take.
“This isn’t a discussion. If it’s not Morales, that means we’re dealing with someone local, someone who can access the building and who knows your schedule. Until we identify them, I’m responsible for you,” Langston said, his voice leaving no room for argument as he slid folders into his briefcase.
“I survived twelve countries on my own, including actual encounters with Leo. I can handle myself.” I reminded him, crossing my arms.
Langston paused, looking at me with an intensity that made my stomach flip. “I know you can, but you don’t have to. Not anymore.”
He reached for my hand, which was significant in the professional setting of his office. Something in his tone, the raw sincerity behind his words, deflated my resistance. It wasn’t about protection, and we both knew it.
“Fine, but I have errands to run, and I’m not sitting in this office all day while you hover.” I conceded, pulling my hand away before I did something stupid like intertwining our fingers.
An hour later, we were standing in line at Brew & Bean.
Langston was behind me, his growing beard against my neck, when someone bumped into me from the side.
Langston’s hand automatically found the small of my back, steadying me.
The casual touch shouldn’t have affected me, not after everything we did in his office last night, but heat spread from the point of contact, making it hard to focus on the menu board.
“The usual?” the barista asked, recognizing me from my daily visits.
“Yes, please. And whatever he’s having,” I replied, gesturing to Langston without looking back at him. His hand hadn’t moved from my lower back.
“Black coffee and a blueberry muffin for her,” Langston added.
I turned to look at him, surprise probably evident on my face.
“You used to get them every morning before first period. Some things never change.” He shrugged, as if remembering my breakfast preferences from fifteen years ago was completely normal.
Yet so many things had changed. The Langston I knew in high school would have never dared to touch me so casually in public, too worried about his reputation, about what people would think seeing the “troubled” kid with the class president.
Now, he stood confident and unapologetic, hand still resting on my back as we waited for our order, completely unbothered by the curious glances from other customers.
At Raina’s house that evening, Langston continued his protective stance. He sat across from me at the dinner table, talking with my sister about the security business.
“Would you like seconds?” Raina asked, passing Langston a second helping of her famous pot roast.
I watched as my sister practically beamed at Langston. Raina, who had criticized every man I’d ever dated, including the ones she never met, was actually flirting with him… church-lady style, but flirting nonetheless.
“I love that you’re personally handling Aven’s… situation?” she noted, the comment loaded with double meaning.
Langston didn’t miss a beat. “Aven’s safety is my top priority. We have reason to believe the person leaving those items might be someone local, possibly connected to the office,” he clarified, his eyes meeting mine briefly across the table.
Raina’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s terrifying! Thank God she has you. Remember when he scared off Dalvin Wright at prom? Langston’s always been protective of you.” She turned to me, lowering her voice.
Heat rose in my cheeks. “That was a lifetime ago, Rain.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were dating again,” Raina continued, ignoring my warning glare.
Langston choked slightly on his water. We weren’t even technically dating in high school. We were too young and too scared to name what we felt.
“Raina,” I began, ready to shut down this line of conversation, but Langston interrupted.
“I’m keeping Aven safe. Our history makes the working relationship easier. I already know her habits, her routines,” he replied smoothly.
Raina hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mmhmm.”
“Raina!” I snapped.
Langston’s expression remained neutral, though I noticed a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “The security system working alright for you? No issues with the motion sensors?” he asked Raina, changing the subject.
Later, as I walked Langston to his car, parked on the street in front of Raina’s home, I noticed how he positioned himself between me and the street, his body serving as a physical barrier against potential threats.
The protective gesture was both irritating and oddly comforting, a contradiction that seemed to define everything about our current relationship.
“You don’t have to do this… you know… stand guard all day… follow me around. You have an actual security firm to run.” I reminded him as we reached his car.
“Tamika’s handling things. And yes, I do have to do this,” he replied, scanning the quiet street before returning his attention to me.
His closeness sent contradictory signals through my body: a desire to lean into his embrace battled with the urge to maintain the independence I’d fought so hard to establish.
“You can’t protect me forever.”
“Watch me try. Get some sleep, Trouble. I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow morning.”
It was almost midnight, and the office had emptied hours ago, leaving Langston and me behind.
Either we were dedicated to finding my stalker, or we simply wanted to be in each other’s presence while doing so.
My screen highlighted the scattered files tracking local suspects, anyone who might have connections to both me and Leo, anyone who might know those specific details about my time in South America.
So far, we’d had nothing but dead ends and coffee cups piling up between us.
“I think we need to call it. Fresh perspective in the morning might help.” Langston ran a hand down his face.
I rolled my shoulders to ease the tightness from hours of work. “Yeah. My brain is fried for real.”
We shut down the computers, gathered the files, and locked the file cabinets. It was like we’d been doing this for years instead of days. Langston waited by the door while I grabbed my purse.
We stepped inside when the elevator doors opened. Langston tapped the button on the panel to the lobby. I leaned against the elevator wall, aware of my bone-deep exhaustion.
“You good?” Langston asked, studying my face with his penetrating eyes that always made me feel transparent.
“Just tired. Going from one stalker to another is fucking draining.”
Langston opened his mouth to respond when the lights flickered, then went out completely in darkness. The elevator stopped abruptly, throwing me off balance.
“Must be a power outage,” Langston stated calmly. Then the emergency lights kicked on.
“Perfect. Please tell me this thing has an emergency phone. I’m not getting a signal,” I muttered. The universe apparently decided I hadn’t had enough stress for one day.
Langston checked his cell phone and then moved to the control panel, picking up the small handset embedded there. After a moment of listening, he replaced it with a frown. “Dead.”
I pressed the alarm button, but no sound came. “Wow. We’re really stuck, aren’t we?” I tried the open button repeatedly, then all the floor buttons, but none of them responded.
“Looks like it. The backup generator should kick in soon, or the night guard will notice the elevator’s stuck. Could be a few minutes. Could be longer.” Langston leaned against the wall opposite me.
The confined space suddenly made me acutely aware of Langston’s presence, the width of his shoulders, and the way his eyes never left my face in the dim light.
“This is awkward,” I said, desperate to fill the silence.
Langston smirked. “Being trapped in an elevator, or being trapped in an elevator with me?”
“Both… I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant. Things between us are complicated,” he interrupted.
That was putting it mildly. Between our history, that night in his office, his declaration I should stay, and now him appointing himself my personal bodyguard, complicated didn’t begin to cover it.
“We should talk about the other night,” I clarified, forcing myself to meet his gaze despite the flutter in my stomach.
Langston pushed off from the wall, taking a step closer to me. In the small elevator, that single step brought him nearly within touching distance. “What about it?”
“You asked me to stay.” The words hung between us loaded with meaning beyond their simple syllables.
“I meant it. Every word,” he responded, his voice dropping lower.
Another step, and now he was definitely in my personal space. He was close enough that heat radiated from his body. My back pressed against the elevator wall with nowhere left to run.
“Langston…” His name came out like a warning, though I wasn’t sure if I was warning him or myself.
His eyes dropped to my lips, then back up to meet my eyes. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll back off.”
The challenge hung between us for several heartbeats. I should tell him to stop. I should maintain some semblance of the independence I’d fought so hard for. I should remember getting involved with Langston Black again would only complicate an already complicated situation.
Instead, I grabbed his tie and pulled him toward me, closing the last bit of space between us.
Our lips met as his hands framed my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks as his mouth moved over mine with hungry precision. I arched into him, my body remembering exactly how good we were together, how perfectly we fit.
“Fuck. You drive me crazy, you know that?” His rare profanity sent a thrill through me.
“Feeling is mutual,” I responded before his mouth was on mine again, more demanding this time, his tongue sliding against mine, making heat pool between my legs.
I was barely aware of my purse sliding to the floor as Langston’s hands moved down my body, one tangling in my hair while the other gripped my hips, pulling me against him. The evidence pressed hard against my stomach, and I rolled my hips instinctively, drawing a groan from deep in his throat.
“We shouldn’t. Not here…” I whispered unconvincingly as his mouth trailed kisses around my neck, finding the spot below my ear, making my knees buckle.
“Tell me to stop,” he challenged again, teeth grazing my earlobe, hands already hiking my skirt upward.
My answer was to wrap one leg around his waist, as I ground myself against him. His hand slid up my thigh, fingers teasing the edge of my panties in a way that had me blowing out air. He dipped his fingers into my wetness and tasted them.
“I need you,” he murmured, voice strained with restraint as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding me already wet for him.
I was lost in sensation — his fingers stroking me, his mouth hot against my throat, the solid wall at my back keeping me upright as my legs threatened to give way. My hands fumbled with his belt, desperate to feel him again.
“Yes, Langston, please.”
His thumb circled exactly where I needed it. My pleasure built in waves, making coherent thoughts impossible.
The lights suddenly flared to full brightness, and the elevator jerked into motion. Causing us to spring apart like guilty teenagers, the spell was broken by bright lighting and the imminent arrival in the lobby.
“Shit,” Langston muttered, hurriedly tucking in his shirt and fastening his belt.
I frantically smoothed down my skirt and adjusted my blouse, trying to look like I hadn’t been thoroughly kissed against an elevator wall.
My purse was still on the floor. The contents spilled out.
I crouched to gather them, using the moment to try to compose myself, to slow my racing heart and cool my flushed cheeks.
When I stood, Langston was watching me, desire still evident in his eyes despite his now straightened tie. “Aven, I—”
The elevator dinged cheerfully, doors sliding open to reveal the empty lobby. Whatever he was about to say got swallowed by the sudden exposure, the private bubble of our encounter bursting in an instant.
We stepped out together, keeping a distance between us, aware of the security cameras in the lobby. The night security guard glanced up from his desk, nodding in acknowledgment.
“Power surge. The whole block went dark,” he explained unnecessarily.
“We noticed,” Langston replied. His voice was impressively steady.
I couldn’t look at Langston. I did not trust myself to give everything away with a single glance. My body still thrummed with unfulfilled need. My skin was sensitive where his hands and mouth had been. The lobby suddenly seemed too bright and too exposed after the intimate darkness of the elevator.
“Let me get you home. I know you’re exhausted,” Langston commented. His professional mask was back in place, though I caught the slight roughness still present in his voice.
As we pushed through the lobby doors into the night air, I wondered if we’d ever finish what we’d started.