BETWEEN HIS SHEETS

Carina had built the night up in her mind like a scene out of a movie. A romantic dinner, maybe roses, soft laughter, and a little sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her. She’d imagined Dr. Adrian as the kind of man who knew how to make a woman feel special — not just desired, but seen. When his message came that evening — > “I’ll pick you up in twenty.” Her heart raced. She didn’t want to read too much into it, but maybe… just maybe, this would be the date. He arrived exactly on time, looking too good for words — dark shirt rolled at the sleeves, scent clean and commanding. He smiled, that doctor’s confidence dripping from every movement. > “You look beautiful,” he said. Her heart fluttered. “Thanks. So… where are we going?” He only smirked. > “You’ll see.” She watched the city lights fade in the side mirror — no restaurants, no soft music, just quiet roads leading somewhere she already suspected. When the car stopped, it was outside his apartment. Her breath hitched. > “I thought we were going out,” she said softly. > “We are,” he replied, opening the door. “Inside.” The living room smelled of cedar and something expensive. He offered her a glass of passion juice and a slice of lemon cake. > “Didn’t know what you liked,” he said, watching her with that unreadable gaze. The juice wasn’t her thing — too sweet, too safe — but his presence wasn’t. It was dangerous, magnetic, pulling her in before she could think twice. One kiss was all it took. Then everything blurred — his hands, his breath, his control. It wasn’t soft or careful; it was consuming. Like he’d studied her body and knew every response before she made it. She didn’t resist — she melted, caught between pleasure and the quiet realization that this wasn’t love… not yet, maybe not ever. When it was over, he lay there for a while, tracing lazy circles on her thigh, before checking his phone. > “Early morning tomorrow,” he murmured, already half gone. He dropped her back at her entrance, the same place he’d picked her up. The night air was cool against her flushed skin. > “See you soon,” he said, voice low and teasing. > “Yeah,” she whispered, watching him drive away. Inside, her heart was racing again — not from romance, but want. She sat on her bed, replaying the feel of him, the way he’d looked at her like she was something to devour. It wasn’t love. But it was electric — addictive. She hated how much she wanted to feel it again. And when her phone buzzed two days later with his name flashing on the screen, she didn’t even hesitate. Because sometimes, it’s not the heart that leads you back — it’s the memory of his touch.