A decorative pillow is thrown at my face, and I burst out laughing. Ethan scowls at me as I start walking toward the door. Aria stands from the couch and chases me.
“Ignore him. Stay longer,” she pleads. “We barely got to talk about Milo.”
I smile, but it’s a little tight. “We talked plenty. Love you. Night.”
Ethan waves over Aria’s shoulder, clearly forgetting the conversation we had a second prior. “Night, Sienna! You’re the best sister-in-law ever! Have I ever told you that? Thebest.”
I snort. “You’re drunk and talking out of your ass. I hope you have a terrible hangover in the morning.”
He gasps. “That’s a horrible thing to say, Sienna. Take it back.”
Grinning at him, I give Aria a quick hug before leaving. When I return to my villa less than five minutes later, Milo is sitting on the couch, laptop half-closed, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips.
His chest is bare, skin golden from the sun, hair slightly messy like he’s been running his fingers through it. I swear he deliberately wears those sweats on purpose because he knows they make me weak.
“You’re still up,” I say, my voice quieter than I mean it to be as I place the keycard into the ceramic bowl by the door.
He stands slowly, stretching just enough for every muscle in his chest and arms to flex. My mouth goes dry. “I waited for you. Wanted to make sure you got back safe.”
My heart squeezes. “That’s… cute. Really cute, actually.”
He steps closer, his hands loose at his sides as if he’s fighting the urge to reach for me. “You have a good night with Aria? You’re still wearing a face mask, so I’m assuming Ethan lied about going to see his parents and crashed your girls’ night instead?”
I laugh. “You’d be correct.”
“Not surprised,” he murmurs, tongue slowly dragging across his lower lip. “All he spoke about was Aria and how he’s the luckiest man in the world to get to call her his wife next week.”
“He’s so in love with her,” I smile softly. “It’s kinda… repulsive.”
Milo’s eyes soften, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “You don’t believe in love?”
My knee starts its nervous bouncing again. I bite my lip, meeting his gaze. “I never used to.”
His chest rises and falls a little faster, like he’s holding his breath. “And now?”
“Someone once told me that with the right person… it could be kind of extraordinary,” I murmur, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt draped over the kitchen chair. “So I guess I’ve been quietly hoping they might be right.”
He smirks. “That someone sounds pretty wise.”
“Hmm. And a little full of himself.” I tease.
“Confident.” He corrects, his eyes sparkling.
“Extremely confident,” I echo, fighting a smile. “Bordering on dangerous, actually.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, the kind that makes my stomach flip. For a moment, the air between us feels charged, like the tiniest shift could close the distance. I catch myself staring at his mouth.
I clear my throat and take a small step back, suddenly very interested in the floor. “Anyway. I should probably go wash this mask off before I break out. Good night, Milo.”
His gaze lingers on me. “Good night, Sienna.”
I stand there a second too long, just staring at him—shirtless, sleepy-eyed, and looking far too good for someone who’s been waiting up in the middle of the night. The urge to close the distance and pick up right where we left off last night is so strong it almost terrifies me. But I stay rooted in place.
Forcing a smile, I grab his shirt from the chair and bunch it between my hands. “Goodnight, Milo.”
“You already said that,” he replies, one eyebrow lifting in that effortless, charming way. “You trying to convince me… or yourself?”
I let out a soft, nervous laugh and shake my head. “Both, probably.”
