Deadlines & Desires

Ch. 15

Lorelai

No, I wasn't fine. I would never be fine again. And no, it didn't have anything to do with the hackers, it had to do with the way he looked at me. Like he wanted to kiss me, wrap his hands around me and just-

And goddamnit, I wanted him to! I wanted him to touch me, kiss me sensless till neither of us could breath. So no, I wasn't fine, Kai Archer, I don't think I'll ever be fine.

Determination surged through me. Practice and sarcasm were comfortably familiar tools, but this—this drive to uncover the truth, to protect not just Kai's company but potentially countless others—ignited something primal within me. I was losing grip even as I grasped the depth of the situation, and as I looked at Kai, I felt an undeniable chemistry building.

Like a crazy romantic plot twist, I realized that beneath the flannely gruffness, Kai had layers—just like me. And right at that moment, amidst the chaos and tension, a longing surged within me. I wanted to feel his hands over my body, his lips crashing against mine. Yeah, it was a little scary, and maybe a tad distracting, especially since he clearly hated coffee and probably also the concept of spontaneity-

"Lorelai" I loved the way he said my name, even when he was just trying to get my attention- it was as if it was something sacred, holy, he couldn't let go--

"Lorelai!?"

"Shit-yeah?" I muttered sheepishly, snapping out of my lust-filled haze

He took a deep breath "You can work on your article at the penthouse. Lydia's given you all the info you need, and I presume your cluttered office won't be of any solstice"

I gaped. No words came out for a moment. "I-uh, yeah sure-if you insist-"

When Kai invited me to his penthouse to discuss further, I nearly died. I mean, who wouldn't want to mix business with borderline fantasies of his hands on me? I'd been in his penthouse before, but with the weight of the whole situation clawing at my sanity—and maybe a pinch of that longing for him—I practically hovered off the ground in a coffee high.

Standing there was like being in a James Bond film, minus the gadgets—and, fine, I was the hyperactive sidekick with the biggest crush on the grumpy lead. Kai was all business as he paced across the expansive room, muscles taut under his fitted shirt. I had to shake myself out of this ridiculous daydream. Focus, Lorelai. The truth matters more than your slightly dangerous feelings for a man who practically embodies entropy.

With every word I spoke about the hackers and their potential targets, I noticed Kai's stoic demeanor shifting just a fraction. His gray eyes softened as they lingered on me, maybe seeing that I was no longer just the quirky journalist trying to squeeze him for information. I was a force, fueled by a passion he couldn't ignore.

Sitting on his pristine leather couch, I could feel the weight of his intense gaze. What was this? A little too cliché for my taste, but, oh dear God, when did this happen? I'd come in to work on a hack investigation, not contemplate the logistics of his soulful blue-grey eyes dragging me into a maelstrom of reckless affection. But as he shifted closer, my laptop screen faded into the background. Forget the hackers! We might just unravel something else entirely if I keep staring into those eyes.

Okay, focus, Lorelai! Channel your inner Carrie Bradshaw. I clicked my pen, desperate to regain some control over my thoughts. I could almost hear the background music—"I Will Survive"—playing faintly in my mind. Yet, I was losing my grip.

Something had triggered my relentless pursuit of the truth, and suddenly Kai wasn't just a CEO with a declining billion-dollar company; he was the intense, dangerously attractive man who had traced those hackers all the way from the dark web to my best friend Lydia's desk at the NYPD. It had all crumbled to serious business, leaving room for all my usual quips to vanish into thin air, like my hopes of ever finding the perfect avocado toast.

"Lorelai," he said, his voice deep and smooth, cutting through my caffeinated reverie. I barely managed to suppress a shiver. "This is important."

I paused. As I turned my head, I found myself face-to face with those cold eyes, but...they held the slightest flicker of warmth as they looked at me, I tried to speak, my voice just above a shrill whisper "what-what's important?"

"This"

Then it happened. In a moment that felt like a blur of 90s rom-com magic juxtaposed with a slow-burn Hitchcock thriller, he leaned in and kissed me. Hard. Fast. It punctuated my thoughts into staccato chaos as he pushed me back into the couch. My mind spiraled through a maze of confusion and desire, interspersed with shrieks of "What is happening?" and "Is this real life?"

And, oh boy, had I lost my grip on reality.

One moment, I was drowning in the chaos of my thoughts, the next, I was pressed back against the couch. His hand gripped my waist possessively while the other tangled in my hair, pulling me even closer—there was something about the urgency in his touch that rocked my well-orchestrated world of coffee dramas and pop-culture quips. Any wit I had about me faded, leaving behind pure, unabashed want.

I could feel every muscle in his body, the heat radiating from him mingling with the adrenaline coursing through me. I had jumped off the cliff of reality, and suddenly we were suspended in this electric moment where nothing else mattered—not the decline of his company, not the hackers he was chasing. Just us.

It was reckless and raw, and I thought about how, only moments before, I'd been gallivanting around the precinct cracking jokes that only I'd found funny. But now? Now I was lost in the storm of emotions that Kai brought out in me. And perhaps I was more than a little scared—scared of wanting someone so opposite to my chaotic world. But that fear only fueled my need for him.

I could feel his fingers sliding under my sweater, brushing against the bare skin of my stomach, and for a split second, I forgot all about the hackers, my job...everything. The taste of ambition mixed with the slight tang of panic sent me spiraling into a delightful abyss where the only thing that mattered was this singular moment.

And there it was—the world fading, the ticking clock forgotten, the rising panic of losing control exhilarating. One part of my brain screamed for reasons, reminding me that he was still the stoic CEO of a failing company, while another part—the part that had seen so much chaos and survived—demanded I lean into the heat growing between us.

When the kiss broke and he trailed his lips down my jawline to my neck, a shiver snaked its way through me, and I gasped as he made his way further down to my collarbone, sending electric currents through every nerve ending. I could only mutter something incoherent, a mix between surprise and the weird urge to quote "Friends" because—what? That was how I dealt with tension.

As his lips danced on my skin, he managed to draw out a side of me I didn't even know existed—the one that craved truth, but more than that, craved him. This was no longer just about embarrassing him with potshots and stories; this was real. Reality was melding with our kisses, and I could almost feel the lines between truth and lies blurring.