The rain dripped from the streetlamp onto the sidewalk, flickering like a warning. He leaned against the cold brick wall—cigarette dangling from his fingers, smoldering in the night air. His gaze landed on her with lethal calmness: the girl who didn’t flinch. HIS girl.

She stepped into his space, heels echoing like gunshots, eyes on fire. “You said you’d quit… if I kept your hands and lips occupied,” she murmured—voice soft, but unbroken.

He inhaled sharply, smoke curling around his features. His brow rose. A hard laugh rumbled from deep inside him.

“Start keeping me occupied then.” He flicked the cigarette, leaned in—just close enough to feel the breath between them. Voice lowers, a razor-edge of challenge and promise.

“Occupy me.”