The next night, I swore I’d stay in my room. I swore I’d lock the door.
I didn’t.
Because the second I heard his voice again, deep and low from the hallway, my knees went weak.
“Close the door, Lana.”
That’s all he said.
And I did.
I closed it. Locked it. Turned around slowly—and there he was. Already inside. Already walking toward me like he had every right to be here. In my room. In my space. In my f*****g skin.
“Didn’t say I could sleep yet,” he murmured, eyes dragging down my body. I was in a thin tank top and lace panties. Stupid. Or maybe on purpose. I didn’t even know anymore.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”
“I’m always coming for you.”
My breath hitched.
He reached out and tugged the strap of my tank down, exposing my bare shoulder. Then the other. The fabric fel
