Kane leaned over again. “Tell her I support women’s sports.”
“Die.”
He laughed and flopped back dramatically onto the bed.
Stella’s next text came through.
You picked a good night to miss me.You can’t just say things like that… now I’m all worked up and missing you even more.
I stared at that one too long.
Because there she was.
That mouth.
That edge.
That confidence that always felt like a dare and a kiss at the same time.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw and texted the truth.
That’s becoming a serious problem for me.Also, seeing you sweaty and vicious on my screen right before bed feels personally hostile.
Kane made a scandalized sound.
“Oh, he’s gone—gone.”
“Shut up, Kane.”
But he was right.
I was gone. Not in the pathetic, all-I-do-is-think-about-her way.
Gone in the way a match catches flame the second it finds oxygen.
I almost deleted it.
Didn’t.
Because if we were done running, then we were done pretending too.
Her answer came back:
Get home first, Vale. Then we’ll talk about how fast I let you get me undressed.
That one line hit like a grin, a challenge, a promise, and foreplay all at once.
I laughed under my breath and texted:
Proud of you. Now go shower before I say something that gets us both in trouble.
Then came the final one.
The one that stayed with me all night.
Hurry back, baby.
I read it three times.
