The doorbell rang.
Not once. Twice. A third time — insistent, unignorable.
Cara tightened Michael’s shirt around her body and pushed her hair off her face, still flushed from everything they’d just done.
Michael didn’t move. He stood near the bed, shirtless, fists clenched, jaw sharp.
“I’ll handle it,” she whispered, voice hoarse from moaning minutes ago.
He nodded, but his eyes burned.
She opened the door to find Alex standing there, in a dark hoodie and jeans, eyes scanning her body with a mix of regret, suspicion, and something more dangerous: jealousy.
“I know,” he said flatly.
Her heart dropped.
“You know what?” she played dumb, stepping outside and shutting the door behind her.
Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not wearing your clothes. You’re glowing. And his car’s in the driv
