Page 97 of Siren

“Then let’s build it like that,” he murmured. “Real. Grounded. Yours.”

A breath passed between us. Heavy with heat and truth.

“I’ve been writing,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “Something raw. Something that sounds like skin and confessions and truth you can’t take back.”

His gaze darkened. “What’s it called?”

“Siren.”

The name hung between us like steam—fierce and feminine. Dangerous in all the ways a woman should be.

He traced his thumb along my jaw. “Of course it is.”

I smiled, just a little. “Because when it comes out... I want it to sound like I kissed the mic with my whole mouth. Like I gave the world every moan I ever held back.”

His eyes burned. “Then I hope I’m in the room when you record it.”

I leaned closer, brushing his lips with mine. “You already are.”

He kissed my hand, slow and deep. “Then let me hear you, baby. Loud.”

A beat passed. My chest rose. So did his.

“Yes,” I breathed. “And no more hiding. No more dodging calls just to get a few minutes of peace.”

He smiled, mouth brushing mine. “Except for today. Because we’re ignoring the hell outta those calls.”

I grinned. “Exactly.”

We reached the steps of my brownstone. He took the keys from my hand, unlocked the door, then turned to face me, his eyes molten.

“Time for dessert.”

I stepped in close. “You must love dessert because you look like you plan to devour me.”

“I do—I will.”

We stepped inside. Kicked the door shut.

Shoes off. Clothes soon after.

He pressed me against the wall and kissed me like the mic was still hot, like he had something left to say. Then again, slower, whispering against my lips?—

“I want to put music inside you.”

I whimpered. “Then do it.”

My body burned for him—already parted, already pleading. Every inch of me ached with the memory of him, the promise of him. He made me feel like a temple and a temptation all at once. Like I was something sacred that he still wanted to sin with.

He laid me on the couch, on the floor, up the stairs—everywhere we had breath.

Worshipped me with hunger.

Told me what I meant to him with every stroke, every kiss, every claim.

Told me I was hisharmony, his melody, his reason.

And when he finally slid inside me, deep and slow, my soul fractured open.

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