“Do you want me to come inside?”
The question landed heavier than it should have.
I hesitated, trying desperately to find the version of myself that made rational decisions.The one who valued control.Distance.Safety.
Instead, I found the woman whose eyes kept drifting to his mouth.
I licked my lips without thinking.
His gaze darkened instantly.
Every argument I’d prepared—about consequences, complications, optics—fell apart under the weight of how much I wanted him close again.How good it felt to let him touch me.How intoxicating it was to feel wanted like that.
Nerissa’s teasing words echoed in my head.
“I mean, he could help you out with that orgasm thing.”
“Fake relationship means no feelings and no strings attached, right?Good sex served on a platter.”
Good sex sounded like heaven right now.
Every bone in my body was calling out to him, and the reassurance of no strings attached was just icing on the cake.I didn't have to worry about anything else beyond that week.
It was just sex.I could do just sex.
So instead of stepping back and going inside alone, I let the craving win.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
And the look that crossed his face told me I’d just crossed a line I wasn’t sure I could uncross.
Making space for him to swing off the bike, I watched him grab his bag from the back.Biting my lip, I turned sharply and walked to the front door.My fingers fumbled slightly with the door, acutely aware of how close he was—his chest at my back, his heat everywhere.
I focused on the lock instead of the possibility of my heart exploding out of my chest, or on the click of metal when the door unlocked—on anything except the way my body leaned back into him without permission.
The door opened and we walked through it, then I turned to lock it.
I barely had time to breathe.
He moved first.
One second, I was spinning back to face him; the next, his hands framed my face and his mouth crashed into mine—no hesitation, no softness, just heat and intent.The kiss stole the air from my lungs, all teeth and lips and pent-up tension finally snapping.
I gasped into him, and he took it as an open invitation.
He pressed me against the door, and I groaned at the feel of him.His hands slid into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back as he deepened the kiss, slow and devastating, like he had all the time in the world to ruin me.I melted—traitorously, willingly—fingers clutching at his jacket, his shirt, needing to feel skin.
It was passionate, borderline desperation, and I couldn't get enough of it.All I wanted was him right now.Nothing else mattered but this touch, this feeling, this carnal desire.The throbbing between my thighs was back to stay, a rush of pleasure sinking into my bones.And with his hardness pressed against my stomach, I knew exactly how much he wanted me.
His jacket was gone, mine halfway shrugged off my shoulders before I even registered it.His mouth left mine only to trail along my jaw, down my neck, setting fire everywhere he touched.His hands tugged my sweater and bra down just enough to bare skin to his lips.
“Jaxon,” I breathed.
He answered by lifting me.
My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, a startled laugh escaping me before it turned into a soft sound I didn’t recognize as my own.This new position had him rubbing against me with every step he took, but I tensed when he got to the stairs.
“Relax, I've got you,” he murmured against my lips, tightening his grip on me as emphasis.
