"Didn't you say I shouldn't take it out on the plants?”

Is he pretending to be mad?

No.

He only ever pretended not to be.

Xavier’s cold shoulder had lasted longer than usual—his silence wrapped around you like fog that refused to lift. Maybe it was exhaustion. The joint hunter mission had drained you both. But this? This was something else.

His jealousy had simmered beneath the surface, quietly brewing. Not over work. Not even the stress. No—it was the attention you gave to anyone but him. A colleague. That new neighbor. The baker. What was his name again? Charlie?

Xavier had tried to douse the jealousy before it consumed him. But then he saw you—bent forward against the window, city lights reflecting off the glass and your silhouette etched in a position that made his restraint shatter.

Desire overtook anger in an instant.

“What exactly did I do wrong?”

His lips left an open trail of kisses down your shoulder, hot and searing. He pressed himself against you, the heat of his body and the bulge in his pants making his intentions undeniable. His hand slid over your chest, fingers curling over the fabric, teasing the curve beneath it.

Turning your head, he kissed you—hungry, claiming, desperate. One hand on the cool glass, he laced your fingers with his, grounding you in place as his hips rolled forward with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The other hand wandered beneath the hem of your dress, inching higher, seeking your center like it belonged there.

You were his trigger. The fuse to his fire.

And the only way to extinguish his fury… was to have you. To possess you. Entirely.

Your hesitation didn't go unnoticed. Were you worried someone might hear?

Let Charlie hear.

Xavier didn’t care. That man had no chance. No access. Only Xavier held the spare key. Only his fingerprint unlocked your door. Only he belonged here.

"It looks like I won't be easily satisfied tonight."