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The world narrows to the press of his body, the slide of his tongue, the rasp of his stubble against my skin. I lose myself in the taste of him, in the fierce possessiveness of his kiss.

This is insane, a distant part of my brain screams. This is your client, your job. You can’t do this.

But God, I want to. I want to drown in this feeling, in the way he consumes me, body and soul.

Jaxon tears his mouth from mine, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down my throat. I tilt my head back, giving him better access. His teeth scrape my pulse point and I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Tori,” he rasps, his voice raw with need. “I want—”

Reality crashes over me like a bucket of ice water. I shove against his chest, wrenching myself out of his grip. He stumbles back, eyes glazed and chest heaving.

“We can’t do this,” I gasp, my voice shaking. Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. This thing between us, it’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.

He lets me go, but not without a fight in his eyes.

“Why not?” he demands. “Because it’s not real, or because it is?”

The silence stretches between us.

Say something, I silently beg. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me this isn’t just a game to you.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, rain dripping from his hair, his lips swollen from my kisses.

And I can’t bear it, the weight of his gaze, the intensity of what just happened. So I do what I always do when things get too real.

I run.

I yank open the shed door, the rusted hinges screeching in protest. Rain lashes my face, but I barely feel it. All I can feel is the pounding of my heart, the ache in my chest where Jaxon’s touch branded me.

“Tori, wait!” he calls after me, but I don’t look back. I can’t. If I do, I might not be able to leave.

I sprint across the muddy field, my heels sinking into the soft earth with each step. The rain is relentless, plastering my hair to my face. But I keep running, desperate to put distance between myself and the man who just shattered every wall I’ve ever built.

By the time I reach my car, I’m shaking so hard I can barely get the key in the lock. I wrench the door open and fling myself inside, slamming it shut behind me.

For a moment, I just sit there, my hands clenched around the steering wheel, my breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. I close my eyes, trying to steady myself, but all I can see is Jaxon’s face. The way he looked at me, like he could see straight into my soul.

I don’t know what’s real anymore. All I know is that I can’t do this. I can’t risk my heart, my career, everything I’ve worked so hard for.

With trembling hands, I shove the key into the ignition and start the engine. The windshield wipers slash frantically across the glass, battling the deluge. I put the car in drive and step on the gas, desperate to escape.

As I peel out of the parking lot, I catch a glimpse of Jaxon in the rearview mirror. He’s standing in the rain, watching me go, his expression a mix of frustration and something else, something I can’t quite name.

The drive home is a blur, a haze of rain-slick streets and blurred traffic lights. The kiss keeps coming back in vivid detail, relentless as the rain on my windshield. I should’ve pushed him away sooner, made it clear we’re nothing more than a publicity stunt. But the second his lips touched mine, it all unraveled. I want him. And that’s a disaster in the making.

Lightning flashes, and for a split second, it’s like the whole world is exposed, raw and unprotected. Just like me. I grip the steering wheel, telling myself it’s just the storm making my heart race like this. I’m almost convinced until his words echo back: Because it’s not real, or because it is?

I pull up to my building, soaked to the bone and even more tangled up inside. The familiar concrete and glass loom over me, a stark contrast to the warmth I left behind in that shed.

Inside my apartment, the silence is deafening. I expect it to be comforting, but it’s anything but. The quiet presses in on me, amplifying the chaos in my head. I flick on the lights, but it still feels dim. Maybe it’s just me.

I shiver, peeling off my wet clothes and leaving a trail to the bathroom. The hot shower should clear my head, but instead, it steams up the mirror, blurring my reflection like even it can’t face me. I can’t blame it. My thoughts are a frantic mess, looping back to Jaxon and the way he looked at me, like I was the only thing that mattered.

Wrapped in a towel, I flop onto the couch, my hair dripping onto the cushions. I stare at the ceiling, watching the shadows twist and reform with each flicker of the city lights outside. It’s almost as restless as I am.

I change into dry clothes, pulling on an old t-shirt and sweatpants like they’re armor against what I’m feeling. The fabric is soft and familiar, but it does nothing to shield me from the truth. Every step I take echoes back to the kiss, reminding me how badly I want what I shouldn’t.

Sinking into the corner of the couch, I hug a pillow to my chest and reach for my phone. I tell myself it’s to check emails, to bury myself in work, to focus on anything but him. I don’t get the chance. The screen lights up with a new message.