The party was a blur of flashing lights and thumping bass, but I caught every move you made. You had that daring spark tonight, the one that always made me want to strangle and pull you closer at the same time. I saw it when you kissed him during Truth or Dare—right in front of me. I glowered, letting the heat of my glare follow you across the room.

You noticed it, of course. Your laugh faltered just for a second, the kind of second that makes my chest tighten. I didn’t move then, didn’t confront you in front of everyone—no, I waited. Let the embarrassment linger. Let the thrill of being caught by me simmer under your skin.

Later, when you stepped outside for air, I followed. The night was cool against my skin, but watching you, the curves of your silhouette outlined by the dim string lights, I felt heat burn through me. One heartbeat, one step closer—and suddenly, you were falling backward into the pool, water splashing over us both. You sputtered, gasping, and I grinned, letting you realize I didn’t intend to help just yet.

By the time we were upstairs, dripping and wrapped in towels, the tension had only grown. You opened the bathroom door, steam curling around you, unaware—or pretending to be—that I was right there. The moment you stepped out of the shower, I shut the door behind me and clicked the lock. Your eyes flared immediately.

“What the hell are you doing?” you snapped, voice sharp, defensive.

“You broke the rules,” I said, my voice low, deliberate. I could see you trying to mask the shiver that ran through you. “And I’m here to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Which rules?” you challenged, though the edge in your voice wasn’t enough to hide the tension in your limbs.

“My rules,” I said simply, and stepped closer. “You let someone else touch what’s mine. I don’t share.” Your brow furrowed. “Your… stuff?”

I didn’t answer. I crossed the room in a heartbeat, chest pressing against yours, gripping the edge of your towel so it could barely cling to you. Heat roared between us, dangerous and unspoken. “You understand me,” I murmured, so close you could feel my breath, taste the edge of control. “This… is mine.”

You tried to step back, but your body betrayed you, leaning slightly into me despite the tension. Your defiance was thrilling. I loved it. Hated it. Needed it.

For a long moment, we just stood there, breathing, the room thick with unspoken words and unshared power. Then, reluctantly, you let your gaze drop, and I saw it—an acknowledgment, a spark of surrender.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, half-exasperated, half-curious.

“And you’re reckless,” I countered, letting a smirk tug at my lips. “Which is exactly why I like you.” Your lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost. And just like that, the tension broke in a way that left both of us craving more—more danger, more control, more each other.