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Though now that I think about it, lately I haven’t been the one initiating. And every time she tried, I told her “not now,” turning her down.

Fuck.

Back to the present—I knew it was a bad idea, and still, I went down. I opened the door, my eyes devouring her the moment she stood there, daring me.

She looked at me with that same mischievous challenge, offering another night. I pretended to consider whether to say yes or no, when in reality my mind had already decided the second I opened the security app and saw her standing there.

That’s why I left her birthday early. I knew I had to keep my distance. I saw her at her party, teasing me, flirting with every glance.

If I were truly in control, I wouldn’t have opened the door. Or I would have told her we’d already had our night and it was time to move on.

But I didn’t.

So here I am—buried deep inside her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other pressed firmly between her thighs, my mouth claiming hers from the very first second her lips touched mine.

“You good?” I ask softly, needing to make sure it isn’t too much for her—that she’s okay with me moving like this, or maybe even faster, harder.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you actually care about me, Ethan,” she replies, her voice laced with sarcasm and lust, before biting my lower lip hard. “You promised me a rough night, just the way you like it,” she continues, her tone mocking and teasing. “You getting soft now?”

A low chuckle rumbles against her mouth, the sound vibrating through both of us as I pull her closer, letting my body press hers harder against the dresser we’ve turned into our battlefield.

My thrusts grow deeper, rougher, each one lifting her higher, her body trembling against mine, her nails digging into my back.

“I wanted to make sure nothing hurt,” I murmur, my breath hot against her skin. “But don’t worry, I intend to keep my word. I’ll use you for what I need, without caring whether you get what you need too.”

With that, I crash my mouth back onto hers, devouring her with hunger, my hand moving faster against her clit, making her hips jerk uncontrollably around me.

Even though I told her I don’t care if she comes or not, I make sure she does—twice, three times—before I let myself finish. Watching her lose control, watching her body shake with pleasure, pulls something out of me too, something I don’t bother to name.

I know she asked me for a night, but from the moment I brought her into my room, from the second her lips touched mine, we’ve been lost in each other.

And that’s enough.

It needs to end.

Breathing hard, my forehead pressed to hers, fingers still tangled in her hair, my other hand gripping her thigh, I pull out slowly and step back.

She doesn’t expect it—she stumbles, almost slipping off the dresser before catching herself at the last second.

I look at her again, dragging my gaze from head to toe. Her breasts bare, flushed and marked where I pinched and bit her, her hair wild, her face glowing with satisfaction and desire. Her dress is pushed high, exposing her pink, glistening pussy.

And still, her eyes stay locked on mine—unashamed, almost daring me.

“You want to clean up before you leave?” I ask, already turning toward the bathroom. “Every room has its own bathroom, use whichever you want.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I step inside, closing the door behind me, pulling off the condom and tossing it into the trash before stripping and stepping into the shower.

Cold water hits first, and I stay under it longer than necessary. Then I switch to hot, letting the steam fill the space as I wash quickly, scrubbing away every trace of her from my skin.

When I’m done, I turn off the water, grab a towel, and wrap it around my waist. After brushing my teeth, I head back to the bedroom.

The room is empty—only her scent, mixed with sex, still lingering thick in the air.

I don’t know if she’s gone or in one of the bathrooms, and I don’t check. Instead, I walk into the dressing room, pull on a pair of boxers, and slide into bed.

It’s time to go back to what we were. The teasing, the jokes—nothing more.

We’re already too entangled as it is, moving in the same circle, crossing paths too often.