The club is packed, the air thick with the scent of sweat, liquor, and cigarette smoke. The bass reverberates through your chest as you sway to the music, feeling the heat of the night seep into your skin. But none of it matters—because his arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like you belong there.

Tom’s breath ghosts against your neck, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as you move in sync with the rhythm. His hands settle on your waist, fingers pressing just enough to remind you he’s there—not that you could forget.

“You’re having fun, hmm?” he murmurs, voice teasing, laced with that unmistakable German accent.

You smirk, rolling your hips a little slower, feeling the way his grip tightens instinctively. “Maybe.”

He chuckles, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Troublemaker.”

You glance over your shoulder, catching the mischievous glint in his eyes. The flashing lights make his features even sharper—his smirk cocky, his gaze dark with something unspoken.

“I don’t hear you complaining.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he murmurs, pulling you just a little closer, like he wants to keep you there forever.

The world around you fades—the noise, the people, everything but the two of you lost in the moment. No cameras, no crowds, no distractions. Just the music, his warmth, and the way he holds you like he never wants to let go.