Chapter One: Something About Him

Lena had always been the “good girl.” Sweet, responsible, soft-spoken. At twenty-two, she’d built a life that was simple but stable: a steady job, a decent boyfriend, a modest apartment on the edge of the city. She worked at a local kindergarten where she was beloved by both kids and parents. Every morning, she tied her chestnut-brown hair into a ponytail, slipped into her soft pink scrubs, and headed into a world of crayons, snacks, and songs.

It wasn’t glamorous, but it felt right. She was good with children. Gentle. Patient. The kind of person who remembered birthdays and cut sandwiches into heart shapes without being asked.

And Alex—her boyfriend of two years—appreciated that about her. Or, at least, he used to.

He was a software developer at a small but promising startup, one of those tech companies with exposed brick walls and bean bag chairs. Lately, though, he was always exhausted. Deadlines piled up. Paychecks came late. Most nights, he came home after ten, too tired to talk, let alone touch her. Their relationship had become polite, routine. She loved him… but it wasn’t enough anymore. Not emotionally. Not physically.

Worse, rent had nearly doubled.

Which was how they ended up standing in the kitchen one Saturday morning, waiting for a stranger to move in.

“He’s cool,” Alex said, sipping his burnt coffee. “Friend of a coworker. He’s between places and just needs a few months.”

“What’s he like?” Lena asked, arms folded.

“Chill. Athletic. A bit... confident,” Alex said with a small smirk. “But he’s a good guy. Paid first and last month’s rent up front.”

“Confident like ‘friendly’ or confident like ‘walks around shirtless and hits on the landlord’s wife’?” she asked dryly.

Alex laughed. “Relax. You’ll like him.”

She doubted that.

And then there was a knock at the door.

Alex opened it—and Lena blinked.

The man standing in the hallway didn’t look like someone who belonged in their quiet, half-furnished apartment. He was tall, with broad shoulders under a worn grey hoodie, a gym bag slung across one arm, and a cocky half-smile on his face. His skin was tan, his jaw stubbled, and his eyes—blue, sharp, amused—landed on Lena like he already knew something about her.

“Hey,” he said, stepping in. “You must be Lena.”

“Hi,” she said coolly. “You’re Jared?”

“In the flesh,” he said, tossing his bag to the floor. “Alex said you were sweet. But he didn’t say you were drop-dead gorgeous.”

She arched a brow. “And he didn’t say you were a flirt.”

“Guess we’re both learning things,” Jared said with a wink.

Alex chuckled as if that was harmless. Lena just gave a tight smile and turned to walk away.

---

By Sunday, she already hated him.

Not because he was rude—he wasn’t. Not because he was messy—he wasn’t that either. No, what she hated was the way he existed. Loud. Confident. Too comfortable.

He walked around shirtless after workouts, his toned abs and low-slung sweatpants making her pulse betray her. He laughed loudly at his own jokes, watched sports like he was in the stadium, and managed to make every room feel smaller when he entered it.

And worst of all—he noticed her.

Every glance. Every outfit. Every time she blushed and looked away, he noticed.

That Monday morning, she came out of the bathroom in a loose t-shirt and underwear, thinking he was out jogging. He wasn’t. He was on the couch, sipping coffee, bare chest on full display.

He whistled low. “Damn. That’s a dangerous look to bring into the kitchen.”

She froze, clutching the hem of her shirt. “I thought you were out.”

He grinned lazily. “I was. Came back early. I won’t tell your boyfriend.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” she muttered, grabbing a banana from the counter.

“Didn’t say you were.” He tilted his head. “You always this jumpy, or just around me?”

She turned to glare at him—but he wasn’t mocking her. He looked… curious. Like he was trying to figure her out.

“I don’t like smug guys who think they’re God’s gift,” she said flatly.

He chuckled. “That’s fair. But just for the record, I don’t think I’m God’s gift. I think I’m trouble. Big difference.”

“Good,” she said sharply. “Then stay out of my way.”

But even as she turned to walk off, she could feel his gaze on her legs. And worse—she felt the heat between her thighs from it.

She hated that.

---

That night, Alex came home past ten again. She’d made pasta, reheated it twice, and eventually ate alone.

When he finally walked in, she stood and tried to smile. “Hey. Long day?”

He dropped his laptop bag on the couch and pulled her into a hug. “So long. I’m sorry. I wanted to be home earlier.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered, letting him hold her.

They made love that night—if it could be called that. It was sweet, familiar, and careful. Always careful. He kissed her like she might break. Touched her like he was afraid of hurting her.

When he fell asleep, she lay awake, staring at the ceiling, biting her lip.

Something was missing.

Something she didn’t even know how to name.

But when she thought of Jared—his voice, his eyes, the way he looked at her like he could read all her secrets—her skin prickled.

She told herself it was just frustration.

She told herself she’d never cross that line.

But something had shifted the moment Jared walked through the door.

And deep down, Lena knew it was only a matter of time.

---

Chapter Two: The Glance That Changed Everything

The accident happened on a Thursday.

It had been a miserable day. Rain clung to the windows in thin rivulets as Lena trudged home, soaked from head to toe despite her umbrella. Her scrubs were damp, her shoes squeaked, and her patience was long gone after a child threw up on her right before dismissal.

All she wanted was a shower, food, and to fall into bed with no interruptions.

The apartment was quiet when she got home. Alex had texted that he’d be working late—again. Jared’s bedroom door was cracked open, but she figured he was out. The bathroom light was off. Good.

She grabbed a towel, tiptoed across the hallway, and pushed the bathroom door open—

—and gasped.

He was right there. Completely, utterly, naked.

Steam clung to his skin like mist. Water droplets glistened along his abs, his thighs, his—

“Oh my God!” she yelped, stumbling backward.

Jared turned, startled, his hands nowhere near anything helpful.

“Shit! Lena—hey!” He didn’t even move to cover himself, just reached calmly for a towel with that maddening, unbothered look on his face. “You didn’t knock.”

“You didn’t lock the door!”

“I just got out,” he said, smirking as he casually wrapped the towel around his waist. “Honest mistake. Not that I mind being seen.”

She could feel her cheeks burning. Her eyes had already betrayed her. She’d seen everything. All of him. And he was—

Huge.

Not in an exaggerated, braggy way. Just… impressively built. Her brain short-circuited as she tried not to compare him to Alex. But it was impossible.

“You—you’re unbelievable,” she muttered, backing away, bumping into the doorframe.

“I’ve been told.” That smirk again. God, she hated how good it looked on him. “But hey, if you wanted to get a better look, you could’ve just asked.”

She didn’t respond. She fled into her room, slammed the door, and buried her face in her pillow.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. She wasn’t supposed to care. But the image was burned into her brain, vivid and impossible to ignore.

---

After that day, something shifted. Quietly. Subtly.

He started glancing at her more. Not long stares, not overt gestures—just quick, knowing looks when Alex wasn’t paying attention. He’d catch her watching him and lift one brow like he could hear her thoughts.

And to her own horror… she started playing along.

Not on purpose, not consciously. But over the next few days, her outfits began to change. Slightly tighter tops. Leggings instead of sweats. One afternoon, she wore a low-back tank top around the apartment and caught him openly checking her out. He didn’t even bother hiding it.

“Damn,” he muttered with a grin, licking peanut butter off his thumb. “You trying to make housework dangerous?”

She tried to scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You bend over to pick up one more sock and I’m gonna need to call 911.”

She rolled her eyes—but her stomach flipped.

Alex was there that evening, typing on his laptop while they watched a movie together on the couch. Lena sat beside him, legs tucked under her, but her eyes kept drifting to Jared, sprawled across the loveseat, shirtless again, a lazy smirk on his face.

He caught her looking. Raised a brow. Wiggled one of his eyebrows.

She snapped her eyes back to the screen, cheeks burning.

“You okay?” Alex asked, looking over.

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just tired.”

“Mmm,” Jared hummed under his breath. “You don’t look tired.”

She pretended not to hear that. But her body did. Her thighs clenched.

Later that week, Jared came up behind her in the kitchen while she was making tea. Alex had stepped out for a quick grocery run.

“Nice shirt,” he said casually, leaning over her shoulder. “Pink suits you.”

She swallowed hard, feeling how close he was. “It’s just a t-shirt.”

“Still,” he said, low in her ear. “Does things to me.”

She spun to face him, trying to sound firm. “You need to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Flirting. Teasing. Looking at me like that.”

He didn’t back up. He just leaned one arm against the wall, boxing her in. “I can’t help how I look at you.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“No,” he said, voice smooth. “But it’s your reaction I’m curious about.”

She hated him.

She hated how he made her feel.

She hated how her nipples tightened under her shirt just from the sound of his voice.

And she really hated that she stood there, not pushing him away.

Alex’s key turned in the lock. Jared stepped back, casual as ever, like nothing had happened.

Lena’s hands trembled as she reached for her tea.

---

The next night, as she sat in bed alone while Alex snored beside her, Lena opened her phone and scrolled through pictures of random things until her mind stopped replaying that moment in the kitchen.

It didn’t work.

Jared was in her head.

Smug. Athletic. Unapologetically male.

She’d seen all of him.

And she didn’t just want to forget.

She wanted to see what else he could do.

---

Chapter Three: Walls Too Thin

The apartment was too quiet that night.

Lena couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed with her back to Alex, his arm draped over her waist, his breathing deep and even. The faint hum of the city came through the cracked window, and rain whispered against the glass—soft and rhythmic. It should have been peaceful.

But something felt off.

She didn’t know why she was tense until she heard the first sound: a muffled laugh from the room down the hall. Jared’s room.

A woman’s laugh.

Lena froze.

She listened harder, the way someone listens when they hope they misheard. But there it was again—another giggle, higher now, followed by the faint squeak of a bedspring.

She stared at the wall. Alex stirred behind her, muttered something incoherent, then turned onto his stomach, face buried in his pillow. Asleep. Unaware.

Lena’s chest tightened.

Then came the moan.

Long. Loud. Shameless.

She sat up slowly, heart pounding. There was no mistaking it now. Jared had someone over. And not just over—*in* him, under him. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away from the wall, even though it offered no answers.

The sounds became clearer, more rhythmic: the slap of skin, the creak of the bed, the breathless “oh my God, yes!” from a woman she didn’t recognize. She was vocal—uninhibited. Her cries filled the hallway and slipped through Lena’s door like smoke.

Jared said nothing at first. But then his voice came low and rough, like gravel soaked in heat.

“You like that?” he growled. “You want more?”

The woman gasped something incoherent—and the rhythm intensified.

Lena’s thighs pressed together instinctively.

She knew she should be disgusted. She knew she should roll over, bury her head in the pillow, and ignore it. But she didn’t.

She sat frozen, pulse thudding in her ears, skin prickling with something dark and confusing.

The woman was moaning like she was being wrecked. Loud, unfiltered. The kind of sounds Lena never made during sex with Alex. The kind of sounds she didn’t even know she could make.

Lena’s hand slipped under the covers.

She paused. Her fingers hovered just above her underwear, shame flooding her all at once.

What was she doing?

But then Jared spoke again.

“Take it. That’s it. Don’t stop.”

The girl sobbed a loud, broken moan—and Lena’s fingers moved.

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was like her body had betrayed her. Every part of her buzzed with heat, need, frustration. Alex was still sleeping soundly beside her, completely oblivious. But she was wide awake, rubbing herself slowly, every whimper from the next room making her wetter.

She pictured Jared’s hands gripping that woman’s hips. His back muscles flexing. His mouth at her neck, murmuring filth while he drove into her. She heard it. Felt it.

Her fingers moved faster.

The woman let out a sharp cry.

“Harder,” she begged.

The bed slammed harder against the wall. Jared growled something low and unintelligible.

Lena came with a hand clamped over her mouth, stifling the moan that rose from her throat. Her body shook with it—tense, breathless, drenched in sweat and guilt.

She stared at the ceiling in the dark, heart pounding.

The woman in Jared’s room giggled again, breathless. She whispered something sweet, probably kissed him.

Lena felt something bitter rise in her chest.

Jealousy.

She wasn’t supposed to want him. She hated the way he flirted. Hated his arrogance. Hated that he knew exactly how good he was in bed and didn’t care who knew it.

But tonight… tonight she didn’t hate it at all.

She stared at the wall between their rooms for a long time.

And somewhere, deep in her chest, a quiet, dangerous question stirred:

What would it be like if it were me?

---

Chapter Four: Just a Massage

The next morning, Lena moved through the apartment like a ghost.

Her skin still tingled in places she refused to think about. Her eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, but her mind wouldn’t quiet down. Every time she blinked, she could hear it again: the moans, the slaps, Jared’s voice gruff and in control.

Alex had already left for work when she finally emerged from the bedroom. She'd thrown on a long sweatshirt—no bra underneath—and a pair of thin cotton shorts. Casual. Comfortable. But as she walked into the kitchen and saw Jared sprawled shirtless on the couch, every nerve in her body snapped to attention.

He looked like sin with bedhead—one arm stretched behind his head, abs on full display, phone in hand, a mug of coffee balanced on his chest. He looked up when she entered, and the smile that curled across his lips made her stomach twist.

“Morning,” he said, voice still thick with sleep.

She avoided his eyes. “Morning.”

“Sleep okay?”

Lena shot him a quick glance. Was that a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth?

“Fine,” she said too quickly, reaching for a coffee cup from the cupboard.

“I slept great,” Jared continued casually. “Was a really good night.”

She nearly dropped the cup.

He knew.

Of course he knew. Bastard.

Lena poured coffee with shaking hands. She refused to let her eyes drift to his chest, but she could feel him watching her. Like he could see straight through the thin fabric of her clothes. Straight into her thoughts.

She took a sip and walked to the couch, sitting down at the far edge, legs tucked up, trying to act normal.

Jared stretched again, letting his muscles shift slowly, deliberately. “You’re quiet this morning.”

“Just tired,” she mumbled.

He leaned his head back against the cushion and studied her with lazy amusement. “You look tense.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, shifting to face her a little more. “You’ve got that stiff shoulder thing going on. Same way you looked after that week the kids had a lice scare.”

She stared at him. “You remember that?”

He grinned. “I notice things.”

Her heart skipped. She looked away, took another sip of coffee, and tried to breathe normally.

“Come here,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

He patted the space beside him. “C’mere. I’ll fix your shoulders.”

“I’m fine,” she said, already knowing she was going to lose this.

He chuckled. “You’re terrible at pretending. Come on, I’m good with my hands.”

She opened her mouth to snap something back—but her tongue betrayed her. It was like her body was ahead of her logic. Slowly, reluctantly, she slid closer.

“Turn around,” he said.

She swallowed and did.

Jared’s hands landed on her shoulders with practiced confidence. Warm. Strong. Firm.

And for a moment, nothing else existed.

He kneaded her shoulders, thumbs digging into tight knots, palms gliding down her upper back. She exhaled without meaning to, her body relaxing under his touch in spite of herself.

“God,” she murmured. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

He leaned close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “You’d be surprised what I know how to do.”

Lena’s spine stiffened.

Jared laughed low in his chest. “You really are tense.”

She tried to pull away, but his hands slid to her waist, gently guiding her back. “Easy. Just a massage. Unless you want more.”

She turned her head sharply to glare at him, but her face was inches from his. His eyes flicked to her lips, then slowly back to her eyes.

“I’m joking,” he whispered.

“No, you’re not,” she whispered back, breath shaky.

He didn’t move. His hands were still resting lightly on her waist, thumbs grazing the hem of her shirt.

“You listened last night,” he said softly.

She froze.

He smiled, not smug—almost darkly curious. “Did you like it?”

“I wasn’t trying to—” she began, panicked.

“But you did,” he cut in. “You stayed. You heard every sound. Every word.”

She didn’t speak. Her pulse was thundering.

His voice dropped, a whisper of gravel. “And then you touched yourself.”

She gasped, furious at him, furious at herself for blushing so hard.

“You’re disgusting,” she hissed.

“And you’re wet,” he said calmly.

She stood up too fast, nearly spilling her coffee. “Go to hell.”

He leaned back on the couch, watching her walk away. “You’re welcome for the massage.”

Her knees felt like jelly as she shut herself in her room, pressing her back against the door, heart racing, breath unsteady.

She wanted to scream.

She wanted to slap him.

She wanted to feel those hands on her again.

And the worst part? She knew this was only the beginning.

---

Chapter Five: Hold On Tight

Lena stared down at her dead car like it had betrayed her. She turned the key one more time out of desperation, and the engine let out a wheeze before falling silent. Useless. Her fingers tapped the wheel, her leg bounced, and she cursed under her breath.

Alex was at work. Again. She already knew the answer before she texted.

Lena: Car won’t start. Can you come get me?

Alex: Sorry babe. Crazy day. Can’t leave right now. Maybe call a ride?

She could already picture him at his desk, earbuds in, barely glancing at the message. Not malicious. Just... distant.

She hesitated only a second longer before pulling up Jared’s contact.

Lena: Hey. My car died. I need a ride.

Jared: Where are you? On my way.

Fifteen minutes later, the throaty purr of a motorcycle engine echoed through the lot. Lena looked up just as the bike rolled to a stop in front of her. He swung his leg off, tugged off his helmet, and ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Need a knight in leather armor?” he asked, smirking.

She crossed her arms. “I didn’t know you had a bike.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, handing her a spare helmet. “Hop on.”

She hesitated.

“Unless you’d rather sit here waiting for Prince Charming,” he added.

She shot him a look but stepped forward and swung a leg over. He adjusted her helmet, fingers grazing her chin as he fastened the strap.

“Ever been on one before?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then hold tight.”

She wrapped her arms around him tentatively.

“Tighter,” he said, glancing back with a grin. “Don’t want you flying off when I really open her up.”

She rolled her eyes but pressed herself closer. Her hands rested on his waist, warm under her fingers. His body was solid—every breath expanded against her chest. She could feel everything through her thin shirt. Heat radiated off him like a furnace.

And then he took off.

The bike leapt forward and the world turned to motion. The vibration between her legs, the way his body shifted under her hands with every turn, the rush of air—everything blended into a heady blur. Her arms tightened. Her hands crept lower. She told herself it was for balance.

But balance had nothing to do with it.

She felt his abs contract under her palms. She felt the way his hips moved, powerful and fluid, each turn smooth like he knew the road by heart.

Her thighs clamped tighter around his. Her fingers slid under the hem of his shirt. She didn’t mean to. She just... wanted to feel more.

And he let her.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t question it. If anything, his back arched just slightly, like he was offering more of himself.

By the time he pulled into their lot, Lena was flushed, trembling, and soaking wet.

Jared kicked the stand down, cut the engine, and turned just enough to look at her over his shoulder.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low and rough from wind and heat.

She swallowed. “Yeah.”

“You sure? You were holding me like your life depended on it.”

She tried to play it off. “It’s my first time on a bike.”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “First time’s always the wildest.”

He stepped off and offered his hand to help her down. She hesitated—then took it. When she slid off the seat, her body brushed against his. Her breath caught.

She stepped back, heart thudding. “Thanks for the ride.”

He stared at her, eyes heavy with something darker.

“Anytime,” he said. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were. You were rubbing your hands all over me.”

“I was trying not to fall.”

“You were moaning.”

“I was not.”

He stepped toward her slowly, backing her against the side of the building. His body didn’t touch hers—but it was close enough that she could smell him. Leather, sweat, and something deep and male.

“Your thighs were tight around mine the whole ride,” he murmured. “And your hands... kept drifting lower. You weren’t scared. You were turned on.”

“I have a boyfriend,” she whispered.

He leaned close enough that their noses almost touched.

“I’m not the one you need to remind.”

She stared up at him, lips parted, chest rising and falling too fast. His hand lifted—fingertips brushing her hip—but he didn’t push further. Just that single, maddening contact.

“Tell me you didn’t like it,” he said, voice like smoke. “And I’ll back off.”

She didn’t speak.

He waited.

And then—he smirked.

“Thought so.”

He turned and walked up the stairs without looking back, his helmet swinging from one hand.

Lena stayed there, pressed against the wall, legs trembling, heart pounding, skin burning.

And all she could think about was how close she’d been.

To something dangerous.

To something real.

---

Chapter Six: Dance With the Devil

Lena didn’t usually dress like this.

She stood in front of the mirror, tugging the black silk top lower across her chest. It dipped daringly between her breasts, clinging to her curves and showing more skin than Alex had ever complimented. Her jeans hugged her hips tightly, and the heels made her legs look unfairly long.

She should’ve changed. Should’ve gone with something safer. Simpler. But when she thought of Jared seeing her tonight, when she imagined his expression, she didn’t want safe.

She wanted dangerous.

Alex whistled when she stepped out of the bedroom. “Wow. You trying to make people stare tonight?”

Lena smiled sweetly and kissed his cheek. “Just you.”

But Jared was waiting by the door, arms crossed, dark shirt clinging to his chest, and when his eyes met hers, something unspoken passed between them. His gaze dropped to her neckline, slowly, and lingered.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

---

The bar was packed.

Bodies swayed to pulsing bass, lights flickered across slick skin and tight clothes, and heat filled the air with the scent of alcohol, perfume, and sweat.

Alex was three drinks in before they even found a booth.

Lena, for her part, barely touched hers. She didn’t need liquor. The adrenaline running through her veins was already intoxicating. Especially when Jared slid into the booth across from her, legs spread, watching her with a calm, unreadable expression.

And she noticed.

So did everyone else.

Three different guys approached her in the first twenty minutes. One offered to buy her a drink, another asked to dance, and the last lingered too long, eyes glued to her chest as he leaned on the edge of the table.

Jared didn’t say anything—at first.

But when the third guy reached out and touched her arm, Jared stood up.

Tall. Broad. Silent.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

The guy looked up at him, saw something in Jared’s eyes, and backed off immediately, muttering something before disappearing into the crowd.

Lena blinked, stunned. “That was... dramatic.”

“He was a creep,” Jared said, sliding back into the booth.

Alex laughed drunkenly. “Dude’s got protector vibes,” he slurred, sipping his fourth beer. “My girl’s safe with this guy around, huh?”

Lena met Jared’s gaze.

His eyes didn’t leave hers. “You have no idea.”

---

An hour later, Alex was slouched in the booth, barely awake, muttering about food and yawning between sips of water.

“I wanna dance,” Lena said, standing. “Come with me.”

Alex shook his head. “Too dizzy. You go.”

She hesitated—but then Jared stood, offering his hand. “I’ll take her.”

Alex waved them off with a smile. “Have fun.”

Lena placed her hand in Jared’s.

The moment their fingers touched, her whole body tightened.

The dance floor swallowed them instantly—pulsing lights, bodies pressed close, the bass vibrating through their bones. Jared pulled her in, one hand resting on her lower back, the other guiding her hip.

They started slow. Casual.

But not for long.

The music changed—something with heat and rhythm—and Lena let go. She moved against him, body rolling, hips circling, her hands sliding up his chest.

He didn’t speak.

He just moved with her. Matched her. Controlled her.

His thigh slid between hers, and her body reacted before her brain caught up. She ground down—barely, softly, experimentally.

He rewarded her with a low sound in his throat.

His hand slid lower. Possessive. Heavy. Fingers splayed on her ass.

Lena gasped.

“Too much?” he murmured into her ear, breath hot.

She didn’t answer. She just pressed closer.

They danced like no one else existed. Like the air was made of friction. Her head dropped back at one point, exposing her neck, and Jared leaned in like he might bite her.

“You’re playing with fire,” he whispered against her skin.

“So put it out,” she whispered back, breathless.

His hand slid under the hem of her shirt, fingers grazing the warm skin just above her jeans.

She was shaking.

She didn’t care.

Her hips met his, slow and grinding. The thin denim between them did nothing to hide what was happening.

And then—Alex’s voice.

“Hey!”

They froze.

Alex was stumbling toward them, smiling sloppily. “Time to head back. Can’t feel my face.”

Jared stepped back, letting her go.

Lena’s heart thundered as she smoothed her shirt down, face flushed.

Jared just looked at her once more. That look. Like he’d already had her.

Like it was only a matter of time.

---

Chapter Seven: No More Waiting

They barely spoke on the ride home.

Alex passed out in the backseat, snoring lightly, head tilted awkwardly against the window. Lena sat in silence, her thighs still aching from the way she had danced—no, grinded—on Jared in front of half the bar. Her body still buzzed from the friction, from the way his thigh had slid between hers, from how her nipples had hardened under her thin top when his hands found her waist.

She couldn’t stop remembering how wet she had been.

And how Jared had noticed.

Now, in the dark apartment, she helped guide Alex into the bedroom. Jared helped too—without a word—hoisting him by one arm like it was nothing. They dropped him onto the bed. He barely stirred.

Lena pulled off Alex’s shoes. Jared tossed a blanket over him.

Then Jared looked at her.

She froze.

His eyes were hooded. Dark. Hungry.

“I should stay with him,” she said softly.

“He’s out cold,” Jared replied. “Won’t wake until noon.”

She didn’t move.

He didn’t either.

The hallway stretched between them like a trap.

And then, without a word, he held out his hand.

Her heart thudded. Her body screamed yes.

But she shook her head. “Jared… I can’t.”

“You can,” he said. “And you will.”

She stared at him.

“I’ve let you play innocent long enough,” he murmured. “But I know better. I’ve felt it.”

“I haven’t—”

“You’ve been soaking through your panties for weeks. I smelled it on you tonight. I felt it on my leg while you danced on my cock like you couldn’t wait to ride it.”

Her knees went weak.

Still, she shook her head again. “This isn’t right.”

He stepped forward. Slow. Controlled.

“It’s not about right,” he said. “It’s about what you want.”

His hand brushed her wrist. Her breath caught.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispered. “That you want me to take you. That you don’t want soft, careful hands anymore. You want to be fucked.”

Her breath trembled. “I…”

“You don’t have to love it,” he said, stepping behind her. “You just have to admit you’re mine tonight.”

And then his hands were on her hips, pulling her back against him.

She felt it.

His cock—hard, thick, straining through his jeans—pressing firmly against her ass. She gasped, and his hand slid up under her shirt, grazing the soft skin of her stomach.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled.

She said nothing.

He kissed her neck—once, twice—then bit it just hard enough to make her moan.

“Thought so.”

In a blur, he spun her, lifted her, and carried her to his room. She didn’t resist. Her hands clung to his shoulders, her thighs tightened around his waist, and her heart beat like a war drum.

He kicked the door shut, laid her on the bed, and hovered over her.

“Still thinking?” he asked.

“I shouldn’t,” she breathed.

He leaned down, hand gripping her throat—not hard, just firm. “But your pussy’s saying yes.”

Then he kissed her—deep, dominating, with zero hesitation.

Her resistance cracked.

His hands tugged her shirt up roughly. She gasped as he yanked it over her head and reached behind to unclip her bra. Her breasts spilled free, nipples already hard.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, staring down. “This body. Mine tonight.”

She whimpered. “You’re going too fast.”

“No,” he growled. “I’m going exactly how fast you’ve needed.”

He kissed down her chest, biting her nipples just enough to make her arch. Then his hands found her jeans and tugged them off—no ceremony, just hunger.

“Goddamn,” he hissed when he saw the soaked spot in her panties. “You’ve been dripping since the bar.”

She covered her face. “Don’t say that—”

He yanked her panties down in one pull and buried his face between her thighs.

She screamed—*actually* screamed—when his tongue met her clit. He licked with purpose. Sucked with hunger. She writhed on the sheets, trying to push him away, then pull him closer. She didn’t know which.

“Stop—Jared—too much—”

“Not even close,” he growled.

He grabbed her thighs and pinned them open. Ate her like a man starved.

Her orgasm hit her like lightning—legs shaking, back arching, her cries muffled by her own hand.

And then he was on top of her.

Shirtless. Muscles tight. Cock thick and dripping.

She reached for it instinctively.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

She obeyed.

He slid into her mouth and let out a rough moan. “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

She worked him slow, then fast. He grabbed her hair and guided her, groaning loudly.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he said through clenched teeth. “You’re never going to want soft again.”

He pulled out suddenly, eyes dark with need. “Turn over.”

She hesitated.

He grabbed her hips and flipped her with a snarl. “Now.”

Her face hit the pillow. He dragged her ass up.

One hand on her hip.

One hand lining himself up.

Then—he slammed into her.

She screamed again.

“Jesus—Jared—”

“Take it,” he growled. “You asked for this with every look, every smile, every time you bent over in front of me.”

His thrusts were brutal. Deep. Unrelenting.

He gripped her hair, yanked her back.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

She whimpered.

He spanked her—hard.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “I’m—fuck—I’m yours.”

He grabbed both wrists and pinned them behind her back with one hand. He leaned down to her ear, still fucking her like he meant to break her.

“You come when I say.”

He reached between her thighs again. Rubbed her clit fast and rough.

She exploded seconds later—screaming his name, body convulsing.

And he kept going.

Flipped her again. Mounted her.

“Look at me,” he growled. “I want to see your face when I come inside you.”

She held his gaze, dazed and undone.

He thrust once, twice—

“Fuck—Lena—”

—and came deep inside her, hips jerking, breath ragged.

He stayed on top of her. Chest to chest. Sweat slicking their bodies.

Her hand brushed his cheek. “We crossed a line.”

“No,” he whispered. “We burned it down.”

And she didn’t stop him when he kissed her again.

Not soft.

Not sweet.

Just real.

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