Michael didn’t flinch.
But Cara… she burned.
The woman in the doorway—Genevieve—stood with fire in her eyes, a silk blouse half-buttoned like she hadn’t even dressed to be decent. Her heels clicked as she stepped fully inside, her gaze slicing through Cara like a blade.
“Get your hands off my fiancé,” Genevieve hissed.
Cara didn’t move. She was still breathless, tangled in the tension and dripping with desire from the moment before.
Michael’s voice came, low and rough. “Ex.”
Genevieve’s eyes snapped to him. “Oh, you’re cutting that line now?”
Michael looked her dead in the eye. “You cut it first.”
Cara could feel the pulse pounding at the base of his throat. The room smelled like s*x, sweat, and secrets. Her hand tightened on his chest, not for protection — but possession.
Genevie
