She should’ve drawn the curtains.

But there he was again—Ares. Stretching in the window across from hers, the thin fabric of his sweatpants clinging to his hips, his bare chest rising with every breath.

And she?

She watched. Every night. Hidden behind the same cracked blinds. A quiet obsession.

Until tonight.

Because tonight, he was watching her.

She froze.

Ares tilted his head, then raised one brow—slow, deliberate—and crooked a finger at her.

Come here.

Her pulse skipped.

Next thing she knew, she was at her door. No plan. Just breathless adrenaline.

When she opened it, he was already there—leaning against the frame, arms crossed, like he’d been waiting.

“I was starting to think you liked me,” he said, voice low, amused.

“I— I don’t,” she lied.

He stepped in. No invitation needed. No hesitation.

“Oh really?” he murmured, walking her backward with nothing but the heat in his stare. “Then why’s your window open every night, sweetheart?”

Her back hit the wall.

His hand came up, fingers just brushing her waist, feather-light. Enough to make her gasp.

“That little curtain doesn’t hide you,” he whispered, his mouth close. Too close. “You watch me like you’re starving.”

She swallowed hard.

“Maybe I do,” she whispered back, not sure where the boldness came from.

He chuckled—dark, slow.

Then came the worst part.

His lips brushed hers.

Not a kiss.

Not even pressure.

Just… a threat of one.

He pulled back slightly, just to hover. Letting her feel the warmth of him, the temptation. The denial.

“You want me to kiss you so bad it hurts, don’t you?” he whispered.

She nodded, dazed.

He kissed the corner of her mouth. A tease. Then down to her jaw. The shell of her ear.

“Say it.”

“I want—”

He moved, brushing his nose along hers.

“No. Say you want me.”

She whimpered, squirming under the barely-there touch of his fingers sliding along the hem of her shirt, not quite lifting it. Just threatening to.

“I want you,” she breathed.

He smiled, satisfied.

But still, no kiss.

Instead, he leaned in again—mouth grazing hers—but this time, his fingers curled around her wrist, guiding her hand to his chest.

“Good,” he growled. “Now let’s see how long you last without begging.”