One of the worst decisions I ever made was agreeing to a no-strings-attached arrangement with Jason Todd. Every one of my friends had warned me I was a relationship person—a commitment type through and through. And Jason? He was the poster child for commitment issues. But me, in all my infinite wisdom, I figured I could handle it. That I’d be the exception. That I could walk away whenever I wanted.

Then I overheard he was seeing someone else on the side, and that he’d told his friends I was just some random hookup, nothing serious. I tried to convince myself it wasn’t true. Not when I had my favorite sweater stashed in his dresser, or when he’d spent New Year’s Eve at my family’s beach house, charming my mom and laughing with my little cousins like he actually belonged there.

Was that what he meant by casual? Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it when he kissed me slow in the mornings, or when he held me tight enough at night like I was the last solid thing in a crumbling world. But clearly, my friends had been right. Maybe I was delusional.

Because here I was again, tangled in his sheets, my resolve dissolving like sugar on his tongue. And now, as I watched him lean against the window, the glow of his cigarette illuminating the sharp lines of his jaw, I told myself for the millionth time that this would be the last time. That I just needed one final night to get him out of my system.

But I knew it was a lie. It always was.

Jason turned his head, catching my gaze, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You good?” he asked, his voice low and rough in that way that made my heart stutter, even when it shouldn’t.