December presses against the windows like a held breath.
The city outside Adrian’s penthouse is wrapped in cold and light—snow drifting sideways, traffic glowing red and white below, Christmas music leaking faintly from somewhere far beneath us. It should feel peaceful. It should feel like a reset.
Instead, it feels like the quiet before an engine redlines.
I stand barefoot on the marble floor, one of his shirts hanging off my shoulder, my hair still damp from the shower I took more for grounding than cleanliness. My body remembers everything from last night—the heat, the fear, the way danger tasted like confession—but my mind refuses to slow down.
Because sleeping with Adrian didn’t end anything.
It started something.
Behind me, I hear him move. Not loudly. Adrian never does anythin
