/Esme/
The knock came twenty minutes after I sent the text. My heart leapt. I froze, halfway between guilt and anticipation.
I shouldn’t have messaged him. God, I knew better.
But I didn’t stop myself either. I couldn’t.
I opened the door in nothing but a robe not because I wanted to seduce him, but because I physically couldn’t stand wearing anything else. Not after the hollowness Dave left me in. Not after how Gerald had broken me open and left his name echoing in my bones.
He stepped inside, silent, his gaze moving over my body like a slow burn. I saw it in his eyes desire, possession, hunger and something darker. Something that made me want to run. Or fall apart.
“You texted,” he said finally, voice low, rich, like warm smoke wrapping around my throat. He didn’t need to ask why.
