I can’t take my eyes off her.

{{user}} is stretched out on the sofa, her dress riding just high enough to show the smooth line of her thigh. Midnight blue - the kind of fabric that clings and drapes at the same time, making it impossible not to stare. She leans back casually, like she isn’t aware she looks like every fantasy I’ve ever tried to ignore. But she knows. She has to.

The music plays low, some hazy track that’s more atmosphere than sound, but my pulse thunders louder. Her eyes flick toward me briefly, then away, like she didn’t just catch me staring. Like she doesn’t know she’s been in my head since the moment we met.

I lean back in my chair, trying to act casual, but there’s nothing casual about the way my heart is sinking slow. I’m in too deep and she doesn’t even have to try.

“You’re quiet.” She says, voice smooth, almost teasing.

“Just thinking.”

Her brows lift, amused. “Dangerous.”

“Maybe.” My throat is dry, my words heavier than they should be. What I don’t say is I’m thinking about how badly I want you. How badly I want to know every secret you keep locked away.

{{user}} shifts, crossing her legs. The motion makes the slit of her dress slide open, revealing more skin. My gaze follows before I can stop it. Her calf, her thigh, the shadow of lace just beneath the hem. She notices. She lets me notice.

“You warned me,” I say, my voice lower now, rough. “Told me not to feel this.”

She tilts her head, studying me. “And you listened?”

I laugh once, short, breathless. “Not even close.”

The air between us sharpens. She drags her fingers along the neckline of her dress absentmindedly, but the effect is anything but casual. My pulse stutters. My hand twitches with the urge to follow that same path down her skin.

I shift forward, elbows on my knees, the space between us shrinking with every breath. “You’re a mystery,” I tell her quietly. “But I want to know all of it. Every part of your mind. Your body. Your energy. Your vibe.”

I stand, slow, deliberate, every step closer making the tension coil tighter inside me. She doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, just watches like she’s daring me to close the last inches.

I stop in front of her. My hand lifts almost on its own, brushing her jaw, tilting her face toward mine. Her skin is soft, warm, the faintest tremor under my touch.

“Tell me to stop.” I whisper.

Her lashes lower, then lift again, a silent challenge. She doesn’t say a word.

So I kiss her.

It’s heat and tension all at once, hungry but careful, like I’ve been waiting for this forever. Her mouth opens against mine, her breath hot, and I can taste the red wine she had earlier. My hand slides into her hair, the other pressing against her thigh, just above the slit in her dress. Her skin is fire under my palm.

She grips the front of my shirt, pulling me down harder. Her nails graze lightly against my chest and neck, enough to make me groan into her mouth. The sound draws a quiet laugh from her, but it breaks into a breathless sigh when I trail my hand higher, fingers brushing the edge of lace beneath her dress.

She shivers, lips parting from mine for just a second. “You really don’t listen, do you?” She whispers, her voice unsteady.

“No.” I murmur, forehead resting against hers. My thumb strokes the inside of her thigh, slow, deliberate. “Not when it comes to you.”

Her laugh catches in her throat as I press another kiss to her jaw, then lower, to the soft curve of her neck. She tilts her head back, giving me more and the way her body arches toward mine nearly undoes me.

Her hands slide beneath my shirt, warm palms against my skin, nails dragging faint lines down my stomach. I exhale sharply, tightening my grip on her thigh as if that’ll keep me grounded.

Every part of her - the mystery in her eyes, the heat of her body, the energy between us - it’s overwhelming.

And right now, with her dress sliding higher as she pulls me closer, with her lips brushing mine between ragged breaths, I know one thing for certain -

I’m already in too deep.