Whisper Destiny

Chapter 54

~ Natasha ~

The air between us thickens as we wait for the elevator, Catherine standing so close to me that the heat from her body seems to seep into mine.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady my racing heart as the elevator doors finally slide open. Catherine, ever the gentlewoman, gestures for me to enter first. Our eyes meet briefly, as she steps into the elevator and stand behind me, the doors close, sealing us in this intimate space where every breath feels amplified.

The moment the elevator closed, I feel her front press against my back, the warmth of her body seeping through my clothes. Her breath, hot and deliberate against my hair, sending shivers down my spine. Then, slowly, she leans in closer, her nose grazing the nape of my neck as she inhales deeply, savoring the scent of me. The sensation is both intoxicating and maddening, and I find myself tilting my head slightly, granting her more access to the tender skin beneath my ear.

"You smell so divine right now, mon cher," Catherine murmurs, her voice a husky caress that makes my knees weaken. The words vibrate against my skin, sinking into me, igniting a longing that I've been trying to suppress. I think, I started to obsess with her lip, and now, with her so close, the need to taste her lips becomes overwhelming.

But just as I begin to turn, ready to close the distance between us, the elevator dings, and the doors slide open to reveal non other than, Meryl Streep, the most famous and outstanding actress that I know, standing there facing us with an elegant poise that makes me freeze in place. The moment is shattered, and I feel Catherine's breath hitch as she too pulls back, the intimacy of the moment slipping away like sand through our fingers.

"Catherine Ortiz... what a delightful surprise," Meryl Streep greets, her voice a smooth, elegant drawl as she steps forward.

"Meryl, hey! It's been too long," Catherine responds warmly, moving to embrace her with a familiarity that speaks of old friends.

"You look absolutely stunning, as always, my dear," Meryl remarks, her tone filled with genuine admiration.

Catherine smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, the feeling's mutual, Meryl. Look at yourself, you're glowing." They share a brief, knowing look, the kind that suggests shared history and mutual respect.

After a moment, Catherine turns to me, her hand gently resting on the small of my back as she says, "Let me introduce you—Natasha Grayson."

"Natasha," I offer, extending my hand with a polite smile.

But Meryl waves it away with a warm laugh. "Oh, the wife! Come here, darling, I'm a hugger." Before I can react, she pulls me into a hug that's both surprising and comforting. I can't help but think how Chase would die of envy if he knew.

As she pulls back, Meryl takes a moment to study me, her eyes twinkling with a kind of maternal affection. "The pictures don't do you justice, darling. You're even more beautiful in person. No wonder you're smitten with her, Cate." Catherine only give her signature smile.

I manage a shy "thank you," feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, especially with Catherine's gaze fixed on me, as if she's savoring every second of my flustered state. The compliment, though sincere, only deepens the awareness between us, and I find myself unable to meet Catherine's eyes for too long, the intensity of her stare making my pulse quicken.

"By the way, I have to thank you personally, Cate," Meryl says, her tone rich with appreciation. "The dress for the red carpet is absolutely extraordinary. I adore it—you never fail to impress me."

Catherine's smile widens, a hint of pride in her eyes. "I'm so glad you love it, Meryl. It's always a pleasure to create something special for you."

As they continue their conversation, their voices becoming a soft hum in the background, I suddenly feel Catherine's hand—warm and deliberate—slip under my shirt. Oh god. My mind spins as I try to maintain composure, nodding politely at something Meryl says, but all I can focus on is Catherine's hand, roaming unashamedly, as if we're the only two people in this elevator.

My pulse races, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal flooding through me, and I silently beg for the elevator to speed up, to end this exquisite torture. Please, someone save me. This has to be the longest elevator ride of my life.

As soon as we reach our room, Catherine didn't take a second to push me against the door after closing it. My heart races, expecting her to kiss me with the rough, eager passion that usually overtakes us in moments like this. But, not this time, her lips barely brushing mine, just a whisper of contact that leaves me wanting more. This woman knows exactly how to drive me crazy.

The soft tease is maddening, and I can feel the smirk playing on her lips. I'm not going to let her have all the control. Not this time.

Instead of closing the gap between our lips, I let mine hover near hers, then deliberately slide past them to her ear. I blow her ear gently, just enough to send a shiver through her, and in the same fluid motion, I grab her waist and twist us around. Now it's her turn to be pinned against the door, I can hear she lets out a small gasp, surprised by the sudden reversal.

"You know," she murmurs, her voice low and thick with arousal near my ear, "I'm really turned on when you're in control like this."

I can't help the smug smile that tugs at my lips. Her confession stokes the fire already burning inside me, and I pressed my body against hers, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

"I have to admit," I whisper, my lips grazing the shell of her ear, "I like it too." The admission sends a thrill through me, a heady rush of power and desire that makes the air between us crackle with electricity. I realised, the teasing between us has become more open and brave.

I pull back, intending to take in the passion and glow in her beautiful blue eyes, like a clear sky, something that I started to like about her, but as our gazes lock, the fire inside me suddenly flickers and fades.

I release her hands and attempt to step away, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. But Catherine doesn't let me go, her grip firm yet gentle, holding me in place.

"What's wrong?" Catherine asks, her brow furrowing as she notices the change in me.

She looks exhausted, and though desire still lingers in her eyes, the tiredness is unmistakable. Guilt tugs at me, realizing how my own desires clouded my judgment. I should have seen it earlier, the weariness that's only now becoming apparent as my mind clears.

"Hey, what's wrong?" she asks again, concern softening her voice. Now that I'm thinking clearly, I can hear the fatigue in her tone, a quiet strain that she's trying to hide.

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking straight. You should get some rest, Cate, you look exhausted." I say, the arousal from moments before dissipating completely, replaced by concern.

"I'm okay, I don't need—" she begins to protest, but I cut her off.

"You're exhausted. Go get some sleep before I leave you alone here," I insist, but something flickers in her eyes at my words—a brief flash of something I can't quite place. It's gone as quickly as it appeared, but it leaves a lingering unease in the pit of my stomach.

The intimacy we shared just moments ago dissolves, replaced by a growing distance. Catherine's shoulders slump slightly as she retreats toward her room, her earlier playfulness evaporating.

What was that? I wonder, staring after her. The tension from before is gone, replaced by a silence that feels heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged emotions.