#But that's making me kiss you harder | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

casuallivi · 2 years

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The Midnight Kiss

List of things that got a chokehold on me: Elain, Elain Archeron, Elain Kingslayer, Elain the Quiet Dreamer, Azriel, Flashbacks.

Characters blueprint: Cass: inappropriate, flirty | Elain: hyperactive, daydreamer | Azriel: passionate, straightforward | Mor: damaged, ambitious.

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 2: What in the Freaky Friday nonsense is going on

A fish out of water had more mouth action than Elain, because she was paralyzed. Completely and utterly paralyzed.

She saw it happening in slow motion, her eyes turning the size of golf balls as Azriel’s big hands cradled her face, bringing her closer to his puckered lips. She opened her mouth, if to scream or laugh she would never know, because in that moment his mouth hit hers, a peck landing awkwardly between her upper lip and the smooth skin under her nose. His half-lidded gaze moved up to hers, brown and hazel locking together as he gently tilted her head and corrected the kiss. Elain quivered. Not from the weirdness of him deciding to kiss her out of nowhere – which was extremely weird – but because her face tingled in every point of contact they shared.

He might as well have sucked the air from her lungs, because she was breathless instantly, electricity shooting up her spine. Elain ha always thought that kissing one’s boss was a big no. Right now every part of her chanted yes, yes, yes. Her brain short-circuited. God, how long has it been since she kissed someone? It’s been a while since she dated someone, and Elain was never a fan of the whole one-night-stand culture.

Elain Archeron liked to bring the implicit rules of friends-to-lovers into real life. She liked to meet someone organically, get to know what send their brain ticking, test their sense of humor before evolving form the crushing-stage to the I-want-you-stage. The crushing stage happened to her a lot. The problem was most of her crushes were temporary and fickle, a week's worth of infatuation till her energetic brain got bored and needed something new to feel stimulated.

With Cassian things were different. He was different. Cassian Marino came, stayed and still was the object of her fantasies – the man was going strong for a whole year! Elain knew he would be one of her one-week-crushes the moment she heard his rumbling laughter ricochet like a thunder in the studio. Nuala, her amazing bestie, cashing a favor, led to Elain meeting the biggest handsome man she ever seen in her life. That day Cassian was too busy flirting with a giggly model to notice her. Elain, on the other hand, noticed everything about him.

For Christ’s sake, the man looked like a walking ad to a very expensive shampoo for lumberjacks. He was tall, tall and buffed! His arms alone were probably the size of her head, the muscles covered in healthy-looking and sun kissed bronzed skin. Long black hair shined in perfect behaved waves cascading down from the top of his head to the juncture where his shoulders met his neck, handsome features completed by bushy eyebrows framing delicate hazel eyes, a strong nose, luscious lips and a face clean of bothersome beards, which elevated his already high status in her opinion.

"That's Cassian, our CEO." Nuala said. "He used to reside in Cali, personally managed the franchise there, but I think he's moving here now that his brother is back in the country."

Nuala went on about his brother, saying lots of uninteresting stuff she’d learned since his return, classic office gossip. Elain didn’t listen to a single thing, didn’t care about it at all, worrying simple about retaining the import part of the conversation.

That's Cassian. That's Cassian. That's Cassian. That's Cassian. That's Cassian. That's Cassian.

Elain twirled a curl in her finger. In one day, she snagged a good paying gig and a Greek god of a crush, what a sweet deal. Feeling giddy, she set up her equipment and began her work. The day was perfect. Nuala coworkers were kind, the models were amazing, the clothes were stunning, the lighting was on point and Elain was confident she would deliver a perfect book. Soon her bliss was interrupted. The brother, who she found uninteresting and didn’t care to learn a thing about, and who also happened to be Nuala’s immediate boss, decided he had nothing better to do than micromanaging her the entire day. The man was so annoying he managed to purge the Cassian-induced-bliss from her mind, only thoughts of strangling Azriel with her camera’s safety strap remaining.

At first, she tried to be polite, keep it professional, be considerate of his direction without changing her style too much.

"Mr. Marino, I've been a professional photographer for four years, I know what I'm doing."

"Ms. Archeron, take my lead. I have more years in this industry than you have of life,”

“Really? Your age doesn’t show at all.” She interrupted, looking him up and down. Elain hated condescending people.

Azriel glared at her.

“I don’t like this pose. Emilia's dress looks blurry."

"I asked her to sway the dress to help capture the skirt’s details. I want to showcase the multicolor peacock feathers." She explained patiently.

"Yes, and by doing that I get a blur in the upper half.” Azriel tapped his pen aggressively on the computer screen where the photos were simultaneously displayed as she took them. The staff girl sitting by the computer – a young-looking thing, still fresh with pimples in the face – paled, her distress making Elain take a deep, deep breath.

Don’t forget Nuala works here, she reminded herself, keep cool. Do it for her.

"Mr. Marino, these are a rough idea of the result, not the result.”

“I don’t want my cover dripping with photoshop.” He objected.

“It won’t be. I guarantee you the photos I'll place in your hands will be perfect. You just have to trust me, trust me and let me do my job."

Azriel managed to back up for the total of two seconds before he started nagging and disturbing her again. Worse, the bastard screamed at her. Screamed.

“Can’t you to do your job right?”

Elain didn’t think she was getting paid enough to put up with that. She exploded, responding him with the same sweet tone.

"Can’t you take that stick out of your ass and let me take the goddamn pictures?" She nearly busted a vein in her forehead, but boy was it worth it.

"Excuse me?" Azriel said in a lethal quiet tone.

"Nuala!" Someone yelped, trying to grab her before her body hit the ground.

Later, Elain would learn her friend passed out for a second, hallucinating the words “you are fired” blinking in capital letters in front of her face. Right now she was too busy having a staring contest with an impossible man to care for her friend’s mental state.

"You are excuse! Now get out of my set." Elain pointed to the backdoor.

Azriel exhaled, making an incredulous sound, looking a lot more like a maniac than he had earlier.

"Are you high? This is not your set, Archeron, this is my set."

"Well, I'm the goddamn photographer, without me there's no cover, so right now this is my set. I suggest you shut up and let me work, or get out. Preferable, get out."

The studio was deadly quiet after that, they could cut the tension in that place with a knife. In retrospect, Elain may have stepped a tiny-itsy-bitsy out of the line, which was totally not her fault, at all. I mean, no one likes to work with an overbearing person breathing down your neck... The mood only improved when Cassian sauntered over to solve the dispute.

"Wow, wow, wow. Let's calm down, you two are making my models tenser than a virgin’s bun in a brothel’s brunch.”

Elain held her laugh. Azriel groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose, mumbling something along the lines of, "...one more harassing complain because of these stupid puns…”

Cassian slapped his shoulder so hard he budged an inch. "Az, chill out man. We don't have the luxury of losing another photographer." He whispered to his brother.

Turns out Elain was the sixth professional they called to solve the cover mess. All the previous photographers ran away for being yelled at, or quitted in minutes… for being yelled at.

"And you, little miss hot overalls. Standing up to the big man, I like that.” Cassian winked at her, a charming smile stretching over his face. “What is your name again, sweety?"

"Elain,” she answered a little harshly, still worked up from the conflict. “Elain Archeron."

“Lovely Elain, who came all the way from my dreams to save us in this dire situation.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Azriel groaned from somewhere, but Elain only had eyes for Cassian, who was kissing the back of her hand, making her red in the face for a whole different reason.

"A pleasure, my darling. I'm Cassian Marino, your faithful slave."

He wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulder, turning her away from Azriel, ready to goad her with soft words and pleasantry.

"You see, Elain, my brother here is acting like a stressed porcupine because he's worried about this month’s issue. We need the pics asap, and as you know, since you are a very fine skilled photographer yourself, they need to be treated before we can print anything. I’ll let you in on secret because you are a pretty girl.” He glued his lips to her ear making her shiver all over. Her fighting fire extinguished instantly. “My brother is a tad egocentric, he thinks he’s the only one who can do things the correct way, but I know you'll delivery us killer pictures, won’t you honey?”

“Of course.” She had conviction in her ability to do a good job.

“Of course. You do look like a girl who is a pro where hand jobs are involved.” Cassian pretended to be clicking an invisible camera, giving her a shameless wink. Elain giggled. Actually giggled. “You won't let this issue get delay, will you, lovely Elain?

"No." She said smiling, turning serious once his obnoxious brother was in her line of sight again. "But he needs to let me work, I do not need his constant directions. I know what I’m doing. He’s breathing down my neck since I got here, acting stricter than a virgin’s father in a sausage fest.”

Cassian stopped leaning on her shoulder to lean on his brother’s, his hearty laugh lifting her spirits. "I like her. Can we keep her?” A flush spread over her cheeks. He said he liked her. Cassian looked at her from over his shoulder. “Do your job bella, I’ll take the prude father. Come on, let the girl enjoy her sausage fest in peace.”

And her job she did. All it took for her to finished the shoot and deliver the treated photos in time was Azriel stopping being a stick in her ass. Elain handed him stunning photos and a viral cover, thank you very much

See? That’s why she liked handsome, good-humored men, with sunny smiles and braze personality. They were natural problem solvers, had that especial ability to make her feel sublime. Contrary to handsome, snarky, control freaks who nitpicked every single detail of, well, everything.

Oh, what an irony that said good-humored man was somewhere near, but she was in a locked embrace with the control freak, his snarky mouth kissing her so good her lids shut down, stars blowing up behind her them. A frail whimper escaped her, her body going lax, melting into the slow-deep-sugary-kiss that sent her sanity to the moon. Her insides burned like a supernova, and it goddamn long time to realize that it was for lack of oxygen. Azriel pulled away first, experiencing the same effect, dragging a much-earned mouthful of air in. To her utter shock, as he pushed back, Elain tried to chase after him.

The hand he had twisted in her hair stopped her from following, kept her at bay, his lips moving to a new caress that allowed them to breath. Elain found herself staring at the sky, where fireworks still popped, small kisses being peppered all over her jawline, then his lips dip lower the slightest fraction, just enough to touch the side of neck.

The contact with the galloping pulse on her neck gives them pause. Seems to wake him to the fact that he was about to manhandle her in an open backyard, where everyone could see. Seems to wake her to the fact that she wouldn't care if he did.

Azriel’s breath is erratic, out of control, his mind a whirlwind of chaos and something very unexpected; want. Want hits him out of nowhere. The reality of what he’s done doesn't seem to sink in properly. Slowly, he disentangles his fingers from her hair, putting distance between their bodies, the soft hand with manicured nails, that were twisting the front of his shirt, let him go, dropping back to her lap.

"Wow,” she mumbles.

Azriel looks for something to say. Anything.

"Feeling in love yet?" the words are barely out of his mouth before he’s making a constipated expression. Jesus, Cassianism was beginning to rub on him.

The insult doesn’t land quite right with his voice coming out way breathier than before. Shit. The kiss was supposed to be a provocation. Azriel intended to give her a peck and prove her so called 'resolution' was bullshit. Getting over people was way harder than kissing a nameless face on a whim. He knew that better than most. Azriel had looked at, and thought about, the same woman his entire life, even after breaking up numerous times. He tried to get her, of course. Over the years he went on mindless blind dates set up by his brother and friends, kissed a woman here and there, did his best to surpass the miserable cycle of breaking-up-getting-back-together-without-never-really-being-together he had going on with Morrigan during the entirety of his mid-twenties to his early thirties.

The problem was he could never prioritize any of these women over her. Could never prioritize himself either. He could count on the finger of one hand how many times he went on a second date with the same girl. His dates followed a pattern. He either didn’t click with them, or got back together with Mor before processing if he liked them. All it took was one crying phone call and, bang! Back to the mess. Another favorite of hers was cry and bang on his door till his neighbors were treating to call the police. If she happened to know he dared to go on a date, his phone would blow up till he picked up. Picked her up.

“You know I love Az, I really do, I never loved anyone in my life as I love you.”

Liar. She loved herself more.

“I can’t be in a public relationship, you know that. You know how misogynist this industry is. They want celebrities single and alone so they can fantasy about us in bed at night. If I go public with you my career is over. People will hate me for being loved by you.”

She was right about people’s misleading obsession with celebrities. Some of them might burn her pictorials to feel better or something idiotic like that, but they would calm down and forget about it. People were fickle like that. Nothing lasted long in this industry.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live without you. I rather die than live without you.”

From all of her veiled threats, these were the ones he hated the most. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You know is true, you know I’m not strong to go on without you.”

Her crying ringed in his ears like a death melody. “I can’t be your lifeline forever, Mor.”

“Please, please, give me another chance. I’ll do better, I’ll talk to my manager, I’ll prepare him for the blow.”

He didn’t miss the wording she choose. The blow. Because he would destroy her career, the second thing she was passionate about the most in her life.

“He’ll come around. He’ll understand. People will forgive eventually, the industry will take me back later, it will all work out somehow. If I can’t be a model anymore, If I can’t… Please Az, please.”

It was the same old story, really. She will do this, she will do that, she will change, she will do better, she will be perfect, except she never did. She never changed. He was the one doomed to end up feeling an asshole in the few times he was able to say “no” to her, to stay broken up. During those times, misery reigned in his life even harder. He felt miserable for not giving her a chance, for turning his back on her, for not believing that she could better herself… Then he was the one knocking on her door, guilt guiding him back in her path.

Ten years went by like that. Time slipped away from his finger, the things he enjoyed weren’t so joyous anymore, the girl he loved only loved herself. One morning Azriel opened his eyes and the only thing he could feel was loneliness, he felt

fucking

lonely.

The loneliest he ever felt was being in a relationship.

Except he didn’t have a relationship.

He had a messy-something-ship, an anchor tied to his feet by a knot of his own making. It was only then he noticed he had no strength to keep doing that, because he had started to think about her like an anchor, a weight dragging him down, drowning his spirit, killing his soul. That day Azriel decided it was time to stop the cycle for good, even if it meant living miserably, feeling like a monster for abandoning her. It was better to live hating himself than hatting her. He could never hate her.

That’s why the want was so unexpected for him.

The moment he kissed Elain he felt the tingle of a little something trying to snap his attention, like a spark ready to burst. His lips sizzled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up to attention, and when she snapped out of her daze to correspond, an electric current dispersed under his skin making him beaming with energy. But why now? Why her? What changed? Elain Archeron and him weren’t friends, calling themselves “coworkers” was the best way they found to keep civil. How could he be kissing this girl when they barely knew a thing about each other... Right? Feeling intrigued, Azriel began to catalog the things he knew about her.

Azriel met Elain through Nuala, one his most competent employees, who happens to be her best friend. She has been a photographer for five years now. She has two sisters who she won’t shut up about it; the MMA fighter and the Arts professor. She has a particularly keen eye for nocturnal shoots. She drives an old Honda with no electrical windows. She gets restless in long meetings and changes subject constantly mid conversation. She likes trashy movies with no real cinematic value. She likes floral collections, jeans overalls and gets extra giggly around latino models. She hardly drinks coffee. She likes to tell shitty jokes. She can curse him three different names under one minute. She can’t sing shit –but she will go up in a stage with so much confidence you’d think she can… And she has a ten feet fall for his brother.

Okay…

Maybe he knew a little bit more about her than he imagined. Azriel’s brain slowly began to work, a scheme cooking in the back of his mind. How far could he take this?

"Come on," he helped her up, careful to kick the beer bottles from the way to avoid her stumbling, fingers woven with hers as he dragged her towards the house.

"Where?

"Upstairs."

"Why?"

"I want to talk."

"We can talk here,"

Elain watched the back of his head moving from side to side.

"Too many people. I don't like people."

"I'm people!" She squeaked.

He stopped, looked at her, rolled his eyes, them kept going.

Elain gulped, a thick nervous lump forming in her throat. One minute they are kissing, the next he is taking her to a reserved place because he wants to talk? Jesus H. Christ and all the saint who are in heaven.

Suspicion trashed against her ribs. He probably didn’t mean talk, talk, right? She may be relatively new to the fashion industry, but Nuala wasn’t. Elain had heard all about the conversations people like him liked to have in events like this. About the luxurious parties thrown so the rich and famous could mingle without a care in the world, about people locking themselves in a room that did not belong to them to get nasty in someone's sheets. Her heart trashed as she tried to categorize this party. Was this a party, or a party party? This wasn’t, by all means, a super fancy event. Cerridwen, Nuala’s twin and a model, liked to host New Year’s for her close friends and family, and their close friends and family. Elain saw models and designers toasting here and there, but a lot of familiar faces who regularly worked backstage were here as well. Before she could decide her answer, Elain was back to the same bathroom where she had a pity party earlier.

Really? He liked bathroom quickies? How distasteful.

A key twisted inside the lock, the noise ringing loud in her ears.

What kind of panties was she wearing again?

Azriel reared her back till her ass touched the sophisticated marble sink. Elain eyed the facial liquid soap hastily dropped on the sink, judging her. Judging for rage-washing her face because Cassian was dating, only to be locked in here with his brother in the same night. His brother. His blood. Oh my. What was Azriel thinking dragging her up here? Did he think they would do it because they kissed? Was he all about one-nights like his brother claimed to be until yesterday? No, no, no, no. Elain never had a one-night, and she didn’t intend to start now!... or did she?

The predator stepped in front of her, fingers hooking in the belt loops of her shorts. Up and down he went, feeling the machine-made needlework.

“Listen,” he began.

She panicked and pressed her palms to his chest

"Ican'thavesexwithyou!" there. She said it. She dropped the bomb.

Azriel lifted his gaze.

"What?"

She doubted the man ever looked more spooked. "You think I want to have sex in a disgusting bathroom?”

Eyebrows rising, Elain scanned the bathroom. Pristine white tiles, watercolor on the wall, fresh towels folded in square cabinets, a toilet so shiny it reflected their distorted legs, mirrors without a spec of tooth paste. Nope, this man has no idea of what “disgusting” stands for.

"Are you a germophobe?" She smiled at him sweetly.

"Are you a pervert?" Her smile dropped. Elain hoped he was a germophobe, the biggest germophobe in the planet! She would lick something of his everyday just to spite him.

Azriel rubbed his temple, mumbling, "worse than Cass, swear to God…" then he said, "nevermind that. To be clear, I am not trying to have sex with you."

"Why not?"

Elain crossed her arms over her chest, offended. Why wouldn't he want to have sex with her? She was a healthy, young, pretty and independent woman. What a joke, this man. This lousy idiot wouldn't recognize a catch if she sat on his face.

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

Did she? I mean, till tonight she never thought about him as man, never bothered to look at him twice, not when his brother was right there beside him, trading jokes with her, touching her when he laughed, flexing so she could feel his biceps. Her mind was all Cassian till Azriel kissed his presence known, making Elain swiftly comb through their previous interaction to see if this was a thing brewing. It wasn't. Calling him by his first name was the extent of their proximity.

"No." She said at last.

"That's why."

Azriel shook his head in disbelief. He was bewildered to be having such a ridiculous discussion, in a ridiculous place. Sex! In a stranger’s bathroom, for fuck sakes. See? This is why he avoided interacting with her outside of work-related functions. Elain Archeron had a way to shatter his rationality, sucking him right into the crazy wonderland where her mind resided, instigating him to act as childish as her. Azriel ruffled his hair. Well, he might as well get used to it if he was really going to do what he was thinking about doing.

"Okay. Here goes nothing, Archeron." He breathed in and out. "We had a thing," Who? "Morrigan and I. It was messy, complicated and no one knows about. And no one needs to know about it. Got it?"

"Got it... Wait a minute, you messing with your brother's girlfriend?!??" His voice had hit an all-time low, but Elain could not help but yelp. His hand flew to cover her mouth, a large sexy hand which managed to spam half her face with easy. "How dared you! Your own brother!" She screeched behind his palm.

"I said, had, past tense. If you wanna get technical about it, he's the one messing with my girl... Ex-girl…" a pensive pause later, he added, "well, she was never really mine, but that story is long and boring and I'm not sure your slug brain can follow before I sober up and shut down."

Elain pried her face free. "Are you insulting me?"

"Dunno. Am I?" Azrile smirked, cleaning his hand in his pants.

"Don't insult me, or I’ll lick you up." She threatened. "Why are you telling me this anyway? You hate me!"

At that, he frowned. "Why would I hate you?"

"Believe me, I've been asking myself the same thing." The v between his brown deepened.

"I don't hate you, Archeron."

"The way you treat me tells another story, Marino." She emphasized his last name the way he did hers. "Admit it, we did nothing but fight from day one."

"Because you are a confrontational little goblin who keeps fronting me. I'm your superior, you should do as I tell you, not try to freestyle in work as you do in other parts of your life."

Elain turned her head to the side. Just because he was making sense, doesn't mean he had to agree with him.

"Nothing I do is good enough for your pompous taste. I can deliver a perfect set and you'll still find a way to be displeased."

Azriel paused, comprehension striking him like a lightning. "Is this about the wine ad?”

"Of course, this is about the wine ad. That concept was perfect and you know it!"

Roughly five months ago, Nuala had pitched the perfect concept to spicy up their issue: mixing the photoshoot of Bela Gio's new collection with a wine ad for an expensive cabernet. Elain found her friend’s insight brilliant, because the collection was centered on the color wine. Unfortunately, the idea was mercilessly shut down by Azriel.

“I’m disappointed with you, Nuala. You, of all people, should be past pitching stupid suggestions. Do me a favor, don't waste my time unless you have a real idea.”

The briefing room froze. The bastard was so cold, he killed her friend's fire for days. There was no reason for such a crass rejection, especially not in front of the team. When not even the good old pizza-and-romcom-night was enough to restore her friend’s spirit, Elain lost it. Next thing she knew, Elain was doing want any good photographer would do in that situation; trying to convince her client he secretly wanted the posing tips he thought he didn't. In this case, the posing tips were the concept.

“Azriel can be narrowminded. He’ll come around once he sees your idea is solid.”

“You sure?”

“Positive!”

They secretly worked after hours – in her free time, mind you – preparing a low budget demo that showcased all the charm of the idea. Bella Gio's collection had already came in anyway, all her pieces stored in the usual room on the 11th floor, draped in protective plastic, waiting for the day of the official shoot. Cerridwen accepted being their demo-model, cost free, and Elain spent a copious amount of hours editing their scenario, glamoring the white sheets away. Honestly, the three of them deserved an ad award for pulling that off!

Azriel, however, had a different idea about their heist and what they deserved for it. The man went bonkers. The man was livid. The man nearly popped a vein in his neck from screaming! He excused Nuala after a hard sermon, but Elain...Oh boy.

Elain he kept to torture, drilling on her like a qualified spymaster who slaughtered his victims with half-blunt tools.

“This was your idea, wasn’t it? No, don’t bother denying, I can recognize your thumb all over this from a mile away!”

"… I don’t think you have the smallest clue of how idiotic that was,"

"...had damaged any one of those pieces. God forbidden they leaked somehow, the shit storm you'd drop on my lap!”

“… idiot, stupid delusion, when I clearly told you not to do it…”

"Ms. Gio could sue you for this fucking mess, she could sue this entire department! The fucking company going down in shambles…"

"...don’t know how you’d deal with getting your coworkers fired, this magazine going under, because you could not accept the idea was bad…”

"moronic attempt to be a hero, you had to swipe in,"

"... newbie who seems to have learned nothing about trademark in her life!”

Elain thought he would never stop. No one should be able to scream that long without needing a water break, it was inhumane. Truth be told, she felt really hurt and upset in the beginning, but as the minutes went on, Elain began to actually feel impressed with how many different ways he came up to call her an “idiot” in forty-five minutes. That’s how long he pierced her eardrum. Forty-five perpetual minutes.

At last he said, "Get out of my office,” all red in the face, tie loose and crumpled around his neck from a moment where he was probably imagining strangling her, but redirected his anger to the piece of fabric in time. Elain was more than happy to disappear from his sight – and maybe never come back. Yeah, she should scram from that office all together.

“Archeron.” Her hand paused on the doorknob. Yelling sure was tiring, because Azriel sounded less hostile now, as if he regained the smallest semblance of control over his emotions. "This was extremely irresponsible. Don't do this again.”

"Don't do this again." Elain mocked in the present, the memory of that awful day triggering her urge to punch him. She had that urge a lot. "You never apologized, by the way." She refused to meet his eyes. "You never apologized for yelling at me like that."

“I didn’t.”

“You did not.”

"Well, I'm sorry... I’m sorry that you can’t follow a simple order."

That’s it.

Elain attacked quick as a serpent, years of cat-fighting her sisters flashing before her eyes as her hands flew around his neck, ready to strangle the life out of him. Unfortunately, she only managed to get a good hard squeeze before he grabbed her wrists, immobilizing her there. Next thing she knew, he was meeting her hostile glare.

"I’m sorry I yelled at you. I should have handled that better, but I didn’t. I sorry for lashing out. Listen, there are dozens of agreements going on behind a Collab like that, contracts signed to protect a stylist's hard work, to protect our work, our magazine. Fifty-four Marinos employees could lose their jobs in the blink of eye if things turned south that day, do you understand that?” Elain tried to find an occasion where he spoke so patiently and calmly with her before. She came back empty handed. "I know you have knowledge gaps because fashion was not your passion, but it is mine. I know photographing weddings and anniversaries gave you more liberty,”

"I also did graduations." She interrupted softly, unable to shut up, but slightly off game in face of this new soft-spoken side of him.

The corner of his lip tuned up. Azriel was actually mildly surprise she waited so long to cut him. It was unlike her to know how to stay quiet.

"Weddings, anniversaries and graduation.” He corrected himself. “Got it.”

"And sports event,"

"…And sports event,"

"And occasional swingers nudebooks." At that, he reared back.

"Occasional what?"

"Oh, you know, it's when swingers schedule a little rendezvous and want a couple of pictures as memento. They hire a photographer, strip naked, get down to it, and we,” she wiggled her hands free, pretending to hold an invisible camera, clicking the imaginary button on top. Azriel turned pale in the face. Suddenly, Elain's body begins to shake with laughter. "I'm just fucking with you."

Suffocated, Azriel popped the first button of his shirt open, his blood pressure was reaching an all-time high.

“What am I even doing here,” he wondered out loud.

Why did he pulled her aside in the first place? Having a serious conversation with this girl was impossible. Azriel cursed his imagination for giving into her provocation and wandering into weird territory. He had no interest in thinking about a swingers party, even a fake one.

“You were apologizing to me," she says.

“No, I don't think that was it,”

“You were. You were telling me to give up my amazing creativity in order to fit in this tight-ass system. Sounded like a weird apology to me, but you are a weird man, so it adds up."

His head falls against her neck, a rumbling groan heating her skin. Azriel doesn't know if wants to strangle or kiss her into silencing. A kiss or two could to wonders to shut her up, she looked much prettier with that mouth opening to house his tongue instead of spouting nonsense. He kissed the spot where her pulse beat, surprised to found himself enjoying the way she shivered in his arms.

“Your creativity is welcome when we work with flexible people, not with someone as intransigent as Gio.”

Elain pulls his face up, smiling sweetly as she brings him closer to whisper, “don't yell at me anymore, it is not professional nor required, and I'll punch you square in the nose if you do it."

"Deal."

They shake on it.

"My sister is an MMA fighter, so you can bet your ass she taught me how to punch."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Satisfied with the apology Elain moves to the door, Azriel pulling her back by the arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Eeerh, back to the party?"

"I haven't said what I wanted."

"Are you kidding me? You talked so much! Honestly, I don't think I ever heard you talk this much, for a second there was I worries you'd turn the Shakespeare on,"

"Listen, I have a proposition to you." Taking a page from her book, Azriel interrupts her and talk, spilling the words fast, before the courage leaves him. "You want to get over my brother, and I want to get over her," her name gets stuck on his throat, the midnight kiss she shared with his brother burned on his lids. “I hate to admit, but that crazy talk about a lover might be exactly what I need to move on. What we need. So, instead of doing weird things with strangers, let's help each other, let's date and move on."

Elain is speechless, her mind blank. His words are rushed, but honest, the sincerity in his voice fascinating her. A sea of hazel invades her sight as he seeks her gaze, apprehension burning in her walls.

Azriel changes his weight from one foot to the other, the silence is uncharacteristic to her, it unsettles him.

"Date me, Elain." He repeats. "Date me and I'll date you."

Calling her name is a low move. He never called her name. She'd always known he had a sexy voice with that rough baritone thing going on, but that voice saying her name does things to her.

Date me, Elain. Date me, Elain. Date me, Elain. Date me, Elain. Date me, Elain. Date me, Elain.

"Why - why me?" She asks with a small voice, fingers clutching to the material of the shirt above his shoulders. "You say you don't hate me, but you don't like me either. We are not friends."

She was right, they were not friends. Friends didn’t kiss like that. They were past being friends.

"I'm not my brother, I don't like one-nights, it's impersonal and I detest strangers in my space. It's hard for me to connect with people I don't know. You, I know you - you get on my nerves, but that’s just who you are as a person, I've learned to live with that. And kissing you,’’ he touches her lips, “I enjoyed kissing you more than I anticipated.”

Elain swallows dry, the insult flying over her head. She enjoyed kissing him too.

Warm lips land on her cheek, the sweetest of kisses imprinted there, then another one, closer to the corner of her mouth, sharp teeth pinching her skin next, the amorous bite making all kinds of forbidden images flash in her mind. Christ.

"You said to do different, right?" She agrees silently. "Could you imagine me having a heart-to-heart, in a filthy bathroom, with you, of all people?"

Nope. Never in a million years.

"This is me doing different." He kisses the other side of her face, making Elain unsteady on her feet as she processes what is happening, the monumental proposal turning her lightheaded and astonished.

So, by Azriel's logic, the woman he used to see was dating Cassian, who Elain wanted to start seeing, and since his not-girlfriend stole Elain's future-boyfriend, Elain would now steal her ex-boyfriend – or almost boyfriend – and they would embark in this crazy romance to move on from their failed lovers?!

Was that it?

Jesus.

On his side the situation made a bit more sense, she supposed. For him, Elain was a new girl in the equation, completely unrelated to his old flame, but for her… did he really expected her to trade brothers like that? Swap bodies and keep the last name and all would be good and right in the world? Who, in their sane mind, would try to get over a man with his brother?

“So. What do you say?” Azriel asked expectantly.

Good question.

What did she say?

Sweet mother of God.

What in the Freaky Friday nonsense was going on!

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