JJ’s hands were under your shirt, his mouth hot against your skin as you laid tangled in silk sheets that screamed “Kook money.” The walls of your bedroom were too clean, too perfect—until he stepped in and messed it all up. Just like you liked it.

You kissed him harder, fingers in his hair, losing yourself in the kind of chaos only JJ Maybank could bring. Reckless. Addictive. Nothing like Rafe.

JJ pulled back for a second, eyes gleaming. “If Rafe knew where I was right now, he’d probably set this house on fire.”

You rolled your eyes, breathless. “Which is exactly why he’ll never know.”

“Shame,” JJ smirked. “Kinda wanna see his face when he realizes you’ve been sneaking around with the Pogue he hates most.”

You opened your mouth to respond— Bzzz. Bzzz. Your phone lit up on the floor.

JJ glanced down. His jaw tensed. Rafe Cameron.

You sat up, tugging JJ’s shirt tighter around your body. “Shit.”

“Of course it’s him,” JJ muttered, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “Why’s he even still calling you?”

“I’ve been trying to end it. He doesn’t take no for an answer,” you said quietly.

JJ didn’t say anything for a second. He just looked at you—like he was trying to figure out if this was still a game to you or if it was more.

You met his gaze. “I don’t want him. I want you.”

JJ’s mouth twitched. “Then answer it. Tell him you’re busy. With me.”

You smirked, tossing the phone into the drawer instead. “No. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

JJ stepped closer, his voice low and teasing, “So I’ve got you for the night, huh?”

You grabbed his hoodie, pulling him back toward the bed.

“For the night,” you whispered, “and every one after… if you want.”

He grinned. “Oh, I want.”