On my way back to my room I thought maybe I was crazy. Maybe it had been a one-night mistake, a heat-blink that would fade by morning when the house smelled like coffee and my brain could file the memory away under “never again.” But when I woke up with his fingers still ghosting over my skin in my head, the decision was already made for me. I wanted him again.
He found me before breakfast, standing at the sink, pouring cereal like I was trying to act normal. The sunlight made him look dangerous, the angles of his face too pretty for someone so reckless, and the way he leaned in the doorway like he owned the morning made my knees go weak all over again.
“You slept like a mess,” he said, gaze sliding over me. “Haven’t stopped thinking about last night.” His voice was casual, but it had te
