Her voice was low, but she must have been close to the wall, because even muffled, I could hear every word. “It was dark. There was alcohol ... and possibly possession by a very hot demon.”
I froze.
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m serious, Kit. Don’t laugh at me. I ammortified.”
I leaned forward, pulse thumping hard in my throat.
“No, I am not totally sure that he remembers,” she added, her frustration climbing. “I don’t know if he knows it was me. God, this is a disaster.” Selene paused. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I bit down on a grin. My hand dragged across my mouth like that could stop the ache that bloomed behind my ribs. She didn’t know I remembered. She thought I could forget.
She had no idea I hadn’t stopped thinking about her since that night in the woods—how she kissed like she wanted to burn her past clean, how she eagerly took every inch like we were trying to outrun every mistake we’d ever made.
I lay back on the bed, one arm flung over my eyes.
“Yeah, sweetheart,” I whispered to the ceiling, exhaling my frustrations. “I fucking remember.”
Minutes ticked by, and I hated that I couldn’t scrub her from my mind. I stared in silence, wondering what she was up to. I didn’t need to be caught up with a hot-as-fuck single mom who could level me with one glance. My brother would be pissed if I fucked it up, and, let’s be real, that was typically what ended up happening.
Then I heard a faint sound. A sharp inhale. Something too soft to be words and too heavy to ignore.
Something breathless. Then again, followed by a stifled moan.
My hand dropped from my face. I stared up at the ceiling like it could help.
Selene was touching herself.
I didn’t know for sure. It could have been anything, but something inside meknew.
She didn’t know I could hear. Just like she hadn’t known I was the man in that dark forest.
The heat hit me hard—fast and furious and fucked. My hips shifted, the ache turning sharp as I dragged a palm down the front of my boxers. I didn’t mean to. I probably shouldn’t have, but I did it anyway.
I shut my eyes, letting the image flood in—her body against mine, the hitch of her breath, the way her fingers had gripped my shoulders like she needed something to hold on to or she’d fall apart.
My cock was already hard, straining against fabric, and I fumbled with the waistband like a goddamn rookie. I pushed my underwear down just far enough to wrap my hand around myself and squeeze.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
Every gasp I remembered from that night came rushing back—hers, mine. How quickly and intensely we’d found a rhythm. The way we moved like we knew each other already, like it was the last time we’d ever be touched.
My hand stroked slow, firm, and greedy. I bit my lip to keep quiet, to keep it buried deep. The sounds through the wall kept coming—soft, uneven. Maybe she didn’t know I was this close. Maybe she did.
I wanted to believe she was thinking about me.
I imagined her fingers between her thighs. Her breath catching. Her head tipped back.
I fucked into my hand with that image lodged so deep it ached. No teasing. No pretense. Just need, raw and ragged and sharp.
My back arched. My jaw clenched.
“Fuck, Selene,” I whispered.
When her intake of breath was sharp, followed by a shudder of her orgasm, my release hit hard—violent, like it had been waiting since the forest.
I spilled over my stomach, panting hard, hand trembling where it still held my cock.
For a second everything was too quiet.
