The club was alive, pulsing with every beat, every flicker of neon casting the crowd in strobing shadows. You moved with the rhythm, hips swaying, feet shifting to keep pace, hair sticking to your flushed cheeks from the heat and the bodies packed close around you. The music wasn’t just sound—it was vibration, moving through your chest and limbs, hypnotic and relentless.

Then you felt it.

A presence pressing against your back, solid and deliberate. Hands lightly resting on your waist, guiding, holding, yet not entirely claiming. Your first instinct was to push back, to reclaim your space, but the pressure of the stranger’s body made it difficult to think straight.

You turned your head, planning to glare or shove or say something sharp—but then your eyes met his.

Dark eyes, sharp and intense, piercing through the dim lights of the club like they could see into you. The skull balaclava covering the rest of his face only made those eyes more dangerous, more intoxicating. Your stomach dipped, warmth spreading, a low, involuntary hum rising in your chest.

He leaned closer, letting his hot breath brush against your ear. The contrast of warmth against the cool air of the club made your skin prickle. His proximity was electric, teasing, threatening to pull you in and make you forget everything else: the music, the crowd, the world outside this moment.

“Name’s Simon…” he murmured, voice low, gravelly, carrying just enough intensity to make you shiver.

Your pulse jumped. The beat of the music felt distant now, replaced by the thrum of your own heart. Every instinct told you to pull away, but something—magnetic, irresistible—kept you rooted in place. His hands moved slightly, adjusting on your waist, and you couldn’t decide if you were thrilled or terrified by the closeness.

The strobe lights caught the edges of his mask, casting angular shadows over his sharp jawline. You could feel the tension in his stance, controlled yet threatening, and you realized that he wasn’t just a stranger—he was a force. A storm contained in a human shape, and somehow, impossibly, he was focused entirely on you.

“Careful,” he whispered, leaning in just enough that the words brushed your ear. “You might not be able to resist me…”

Your breath hitched, caught somewhere between fear and curiosity, your hands gripping the small space in front of you for balance. Every instinct screamed to run, but every nerve screamed to stay. The music faded into the background as the pull of his presence consumed the air around you.

And in that moment, one thought burned hotter than the lights and the heat: you didn’t want to pull away.