She wasn’t supposed to be here this late.
But there she was—leaning against the kitchen counter in that oversized sweatshirt that somehow made her look even hotter, hair messy from the rain, eyes locked on him like she’d already decided what was going to happen.
He froze mid-step.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
She smirked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“That depends… how do you think I’m looking at you?”
“Like trouble.”
She pushed off the counter and walked toward him slowly, deliberately, each step soft but confident.
“Took you long enough to notice.”
He swallowed. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
“What?” she whispered, stopping close enough that he could feel her breath. “Standing here? Or making you lose your mind?”
He tried to look away, but she caught his chin between her fingers and forced him to meet her eyes.
“No, no—look at me,” she murmured.
“That’s the part I like.”
His pulse kicked hard. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Good,” she whispered.
“Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t see the way you stare at me like you want to ruin me.”
He exhaled a shaky laugh. “You really don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Oh, I do.”
She leaned in, lips barely brushing his jaw, her voice low and wicked:
“I want all that energy you’ve been holding back.”
He felt her smile against his skin.
“You’re not going to sleep tonight,” she added, stepping back with that same dangerous smirk.
“And that’s exactly the point.”
He didn’t move.
He couldn’t.
She finally turned, walking out of the kitchen like she hadn’t just set his entire world on fire.
“Come find me when you stop overthinking,” she called out over her shoulder.
“And don’t make me wait.”
