—THUD—

That was enough to snap the last thread of my restraint.

The moment she used that pretty, cocky mouth of hers, impatience shattered.

My hand found her throat—fast, rough, instinctive—driving her back until her spine met the cold, unforgiving surface of the door.

Her skin beneath my palm only ignited the fire burning in my chest.

Her deep brown eyes went wide—but even then, even now, they challenged me. Lethal.

“Move that pretty little mouth of yours against me again,” I said, my voice lower than I recognized.

I don’t lose control while indulging women. That’s not who I am.

But fuck.

I wanted to choke her close to the edge just for making me feel unlike myself.

Her breathing turned heavy—ragged, quick—almost matching mine. She went quiet.

Good.

Either she knew she’d crossed the line… or worse—

She’d won.

“Did you forget I wasn’t the only one who moaned against your ear?” I reminded her. LA. One month ago. One damn night. “Forgot how you couldn’t believe yourself because you almost asked for more?”

My grip tightened—slowly.

“Almost,” I hissed, deliberate. Quiet.

My gaze dropped to her mouth. Cupid’s bow. Perfect. Ruinous.

“No.” Her voice came after a long pause. Steady. “But have you never heard how bodies work?”

My jaw ticked—once.

“You were literally fucking me and expected my organs not to get wet?” She paused, eyes narrowing. Wood into coil. “Besides,” she continued, sharp and smug, “I’d react like that to any man.”

She mirrored my gaze—down to my lips. Just a second.

“Better. And more natural.”

Something dark twisted in my chest.

My jaw clenched until my ears buzzed. My fingers pressed deeper into her throat.

“Don’t fuck with me, Ava.”

Her name tasted foreign in my mouth. I never say it like this. Never like that.

“I didn’t fuck around when I made it clear—very clear—” I leaned in, lips ghosting hers, “that I’d ruin my name knowing someone else even thought about yours.”

The words fell just above a whisper.

She swallowed.

I felt it beneath my palm.

Good.

It meant my warning had landed.

But she didn’t fold. Didn’t soften.

And that—that—was what bent me instead.

My eyes traced her face. Perfect brows. Long lashes—intentionally curled. Glitter dusted over freckles she didn’t need. Lip gloss smeared at the corner of her mouth.

I wanted to wipe it away—with my tongue. Not my thumb.

But no.

Not now. Not when I was already this close to losing my mind.

I inhaled slowly, accidentally filling my lungs with her—coffee, vanilla, spice.

I stepped back.

Before I did something I shouldn’t.

Again.

“Hope your brother picks you up on time,” I said, adjusting my cufflinks like I hadn’t nearly unraveled seconds ago.

I glanced back at her.

Her hands were fisted at her sides. Chin dipped. That glare.

I almost smirked.

Almost.

“Or,” I added, stepping closer, watching her pull back instinctively, “you already know where I park my car.”

My hand closed around the doorknob. I opened it without asking her to move.

She did.

“Happy Sunday night, Vixen.”

The door shut behind me.

Leaving her exactly where I’d dragged her.

With the heat of my palm still burning into her skin.

And that name.