~ Harley ~
I wake up tangled in sheets that don’t smell like me.
The air carries the faint, lingering scent of cedar and expensive whiskey the scent of him and even though he isn't touching me right now, the space still feels entirely occupied by his presence.
I don't even remember how I got here.
My brain comes online slowly.
Too slow.
The night rushes back in pieces. The office. His voice low and steady. My hands in his shirt. The way I decided to stay instead of run.
The way one choice turned into another.
And another.
My stomach flips.
Not regret.
Something sharper.
I sit up, the sheet slipping down my chest, and the first thing I notice is the quiet.
There’s no club noise here, no distant roar of engines just the low, mechanical hum of the building and the sound of my own
