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“With the way you froze just now? If I had broken in, if I wasn’t me, you’d be fucked, Sassy.”

The words sent a shiver straight down my spine because he was right. I swallowed hard and forced my eyes up to meet his. “Good thing it was just you then,” I rasped. “Even though you scared the hell out of me.Again.”

He grinned. “Maybe I like you scared,” he murmured, voice dipping to something low and lethal. “I’ve never heard you scream like that before.”

“Because that’s a totally normal thing to say,” I quipped dryly.

“Normal is overrated.”

My tongue flicked out to wet my lips. His eyes tracked it like a predator catching movement. His teasing glint vanished. What replaced it was darker and far less performative. I noticed then that his hair was still damp from a recent shower. The familiar cedar-and-spice scent clung to him, filling my lungs with every breath I tried, and failed, to steady. He was so close we were practically pressed together, his body heat lapping at mine,coaxing a response I fought to have the willpower to ignore. It wasn’t fear sparking beneath my skin anymore.

I didn’t want to move.

But I had to.

I pressed my hand to his chest and slid past him, heart thudding like a drumline. My fingers brushed the edge of his varsity jacket, and even that fleeting contact was enough to leave sparks trailing in its wake. I bent to grab my now dented Hydrobottle off the floor, palms slick against the cold metal.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened last night?” I asked, hoping the question might shift the energy. Or at least distract me long enough to pull my thoughts out of the gutter.

“Aside from Deadweight running his mouth and disrespecting you?” His tone was cold but controlled. “I let him talk long enough to show everyone exactly what he was.”

“Meaning?” I turned the sink on, the rush of water masking the erratic rhythm of my pulse as I rinsed my bottle.

“He’s jealous. Desperate. Still clinging to something that was never his. He thought saying he had you first would shake me.”

“He said what?” I turned my head and looked at him. Surely, I’d misheard.

“He claimed he had you first. I think he forgot you’ve always been mine. So I told him the truth.”

“The truth?”

“I let him know that when you finally end up in my bed, you’ll find out what it feels like to be worshipped head to toe. And fucked so hard you forget any name that came before mine.”

I almost dropped my water bottle.

He’d never been so bold with me before. So direct, so shamelessly sure of himself.

God help me—I liked it.

I wasn’t a prude. Not even close. But something about hearinghimsay something like that, Ryder Voss, with that razor-sharp calm and eyes holding mine, lit me up from the inside out. My face burned, heat blooming down my neck, and my thighs pressed together on instinct. My body didn’t care that this was a disaster waiting to happen. It only knew who was standing in front of me, and exactly what he was promising.

“Why would you tell him that?” I asked. The words came softer than I meant them to.

“I told you, he needed to hear the truth,” he said simply.

My lips parted, no words coming out. He used my silence like an open door and closed the distance between us.

“I warned you,” he murmured. “And that line you’ve been clinging to? It’s gone. I have no problem bleeding him or anyone else who wants to get in the way, dry over what’s mine.”

“What are you actually saying right now? Where is this coming from?”

“Remember the other night? I let you say your peace, even though every word was a lie. You knew it. I knew it. Now it’s my turn to speak mine.”

“This isn’t remotely the same thing.” I gestured with my hands.

“One of us had to end this fucking repetition we’ve been caught up in. We haven’t been us since the night you kissed me. I’m done pretending that meant nothing.” His eyes burned into mine, unrelenting.

“Then… where does that leave us, Rye?” My voice trembled, but I couldn’t look away.

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