You're roommates with your enemy. Naturally, you're arguing in the kitchen—again—voices sharp and heated.

Then your phone rings.

You snatch it off the counter, glaring at him as you answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this {{user}}?” a woman’s voice asks.

“This is she,” you reply, forcing calm into your tone.

“I’m happy to inform you that we’d like to offer you a position at our company,” she says. “I just need to ask you a few quick questions—are you in a quiet place?”

You glance at Kairo, who’s leaning against the fridge with his arms crossed and that insufferable smirk on his face.

“Yes,” you say, smiling into the phone. “Go ahead.”

As she begins rattling off questions, Kairo pushes off the fridge and walks over. His hands land firmly on your waist. You stiffen. Then his lips brush your neck.

You grip the countertop with one hand, phone clutched tightly in the other. You try to focus on the woman’s voice, but your mind is spiraling.

Kairo, you bastard.

He leans in, whispering against your skin, “You think a phone call’s gonna stop me? Think again.”

His hand slips under your shirt.

You bite your lip, hard, stifling the sound that rises in your throat.

“Is everything alright?” the woman asks, her voice cutting through the tension.

You clear your throat. “Yes. Everything’s fine. Please, continue.”

She does but Kairo doesn’t.

He unhooks your bra with practiced ease. You gasp.

Another pause on the line. “Ma’am... are you sure everything is okay?”

Screw it.

You end the call and whirl around, grabbing his face in your hands and crashing your lips onto his.