The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the night outside. You leaned against the cabinet, your fingers loosely curled around the stem of your wine glass. The warmth of the drink lingered in your cheeks, though you knew the real reason for the flush was the way Keith Daniel had been watching you all evening—calm, steady, unreadable.

“You should sleep now,” he said as he walked closer, his voice low and warm. “I know you’re tired.”

You exhaled softly, shoulders drooping despite your attempt to stay composed. “Pagod lang ako," you murmured, eyes finding his. “Pero hindi pa ako inaantok.”

Keith stopped right in front of you—close enough that you could feel the heat from his body, close enough that your breath didn’t quite feel like your own anymore.

His lips curved into that slow, infuriating, devastating smirk. “I guess,” he whispered, hooking a finger under your chin and lifting your face to his, “you weren’t f***ed enough to fall asleep, baby.”

Your breath stuttered. The glass slipped a little in your hand, but Keith caught it effortlessly, setting it aside before returning his hand to your waist, fingers warm and deliberate.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” you asked, though your voice had already softened, already giving away too much.

“That you’re still awake,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your cheek, “because I wasn’t finished with you.”

Your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt. One small pull. A quiet invitation. He didn’t hesitate.

The world around you blurred as he kissed you—slow at first, savoring you, then deeper, hungrier, like he’d been holding back all night. Your arms slid around his neck while his hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him, making the space between your bodies vanish.

The lamp’s glow flickered as the room filled with soft sounds—quick breaths, broken whispers, the gentle rustle of fabric. Keith’s mouth brushed your ear, his voice low and rough, saying things with a smirk you could only answer with a shaky laugh and a flustered “K-Keith…”