You should have left. Taylor was asleep upstairs, and this was your chance to sneak out before morning. But as your fingers grazed the doorknob, a voice stopped you.

“Leaving without saying goodnight?”

You turned, Oliver stood there, arms crossed, amusement flickering in his eyes.

You exhaled. “Goodnight, Oliver.”

“That’s it?” His voice was teasing but laced with something heavier. He took a slow step forward, gaze locked onto yours. You should have backed away, should have said something to put space between you. But you didn’t.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, tracing a line from your jaw to the strand of hair he tucked behind your ear. His touch lingered, warm and deliberate.

This was your last chance to walk away. To keep things simple. Screw it.

You grabbed his hoodie and yanked him down into a kiss.

Oliver responded instantly. His hands were on your waist in seconds, pulling you flush against him as he pressed you back against the door. His lips were warm, eager, moving against yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. He kissed you slow at first, teasing, like he was savouring the moment. But when you fisted the front of his hoodie and tugged him closer, he groaned into your mouth, his grip tightening as the kiss deepened. His tongue slid against yours, and heat spread through your body as he backed you harder into the door, leaving no space between you. His hands roamed, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing the bare skin at your waist. You gasped against his lips, and he took the opportunity to tilt your head back, his mouth trailing down your jawline. When he reached the spot just below your ear, he bit down lightly before soothing the skin with his tongue. A small whimper escaped your lips, and he chuckled against your neck, his breath hot.

“Thought you were leaving,” he murmured.

You barely managed a response before he kissed you again, deeper, rougher. One of his hands slid up your back, fingers spreading wide as he held you against him.