It’s one that should be terrifying.
If I do this, it’ll change everything.
But it’s not enough to stop me.
The cool wind hits my feverish skin when we finally spill into the night, and I’m not sure if the dizziness spinning through me is from the alcohol or him.
In the back seat of the cab, his hand finds my thigh, fingers caressing skin as they inch higher. Before we even jumped into the vehicle, I knew exactly where this was headed.
And I didn’t stop it.
It wasn’t even a consideration.
I don’t care about lines or rules or the fact that he’s the one man I can’t afford to want.
He’s the player whose messes I spend my days cleaning up.
And tonight, I’m about to become one of them.
We barely make it inside my apartment before he kicks the door shut behind him, the sound reverberating through the darkness. His hands are already on me. Every movement is fueled by urgency as he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bedroom. Every step is a collision of mouths and desire.
Clothing falls in a scattered trail behind us. My dress slips off my shoulders as his belt clinks against the floor. By the time we reach the bed, there’s nothing left between us but skin and heat.
He lowers me onto the mattress, his solid weight pressing me into the sheets. There’s no hesitation, no space for questions.
Only need.
He thrusts into me with one smooth, deliberate stroke that steals the oxygen from my lungs. The sound that escapes me is a gasp smothered in surrender. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything more devastatingly perfect.
“God, Rina,” he groans, his thick cock buried to the hilt. “I’ve wanted this longer than you know.”
Something shifts in his tone. The arrogance fades into more of an ache.
I arch, my nails digging into his back. “Oliver…”
His mouth finds mine again. The kiss is as consuming as it is desperate. Like he’s trying to memorize everything about this moment. Every movement between us builds, becoming faster, deeper, and harder until the pace turns frantic.
Until I can’t think.
Every thrust feels like a mistake I can’t stop making.
There’s only the slide of his body, the sound of our need, and the helpless way we’re chasing the same release. When I come apart, it’s with his name on my lips, my body tightening around him as the world shatters and reforms in his arms. He follows with a rough, guttural sound, thrusting deep before going still, buried inside me like he never intends to leave.
For one reckless, perfect night, I don’t care about rules or consequences.
I just want this.
Want him.
And when silence settles, his arm still draped over me, I stare into the dark and let the truth bloom like a bruise.
We didn’t use anything.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to face what I’ve done.
But right now, in the quiet after the best sex of my life, all I can think is that I’ve crossed a line there’s no coming back from.
The scariest part is that I’m not sure I even want to.
