The fan hums low in your bedroom, the salty air from the ocean creeping in through the open window. Your sheets are kicked down to your ankles, your skin warm, your breathing uneven as your fingers move between your legs.

JJ’s name lingers on your lips, whispered into the quiet of your room, your mind lost in the thought of him—his hands, his mouth, the way he always looks at you like he wants to ruin you.

Then, the door swings open.

“Hey, you seen my—” JJ’s voice cuts off. Silence crashes between you, thick and suffocating.

Your eyes snap open, meeting his. He’s frozen in the doorway, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling like he forgot how to breathe. His blue eyes drag down your body, taking in the way your shirt is bunched up, the way your thighs are trembling.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice lower, rougher. “I—”

You scramble to pull the blanket over yourself, your entire body burning, but JJ’s still standing there, gripping the doorknob like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“You were thinking about me.” It’s not a question.

You swallow hard, unable to find a single excuse that could save you now. His lips curl into something wicked, something smug, and then he shuts the door behind him.

“Well, don’t stop on my account.”