I stare up at the ceiling, fully aware that Phoenix is probably listening to every word, but at this point, if he’s gonna stalk me, he can at least enjoy himself.

  “The date is with the hot psycho.”

  “No. Shut up. You’re lying.”

  “I’m not.”

  There’s a gasp followed by a scream. “OH MY GOD—FINALLY.”

  “Okay, you’re way too excited about this.”

  “What can I say? I’m kinda rooting for the homicidal Romeo. So what changed your mind?”

  “He made me… wait. Okay, I hate the word squirt. It sounds like something a cat does, not a woman, but I don’t know what else to call it.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “What?”

  “You had a full-on porno moment with Mr. I-Will-Literally-Kill-For-You, and I need every detail. Do. Not. Move.”

  “I’ve got to work. I have a video call with James soon.”

  “Push it back an hour and do it from home. I’m on my way.”

  The second Lianna rocks up at my door, she screams, “Alexa, blast something loud enough to make the psycho downstairs bleed out of his perfect ears.”

  Alexa proceeds to blast Christmas songs even though it’s only November, so I change it to Bad Omens because fuck that noise.

  My best friend hands me a coffee, and now we’re on the couch, fully aware we’re probably being watched by the invisible demon cameras Phoenix installed throughout my apartment.

  At least he can’t hear us.

  “So on my way over, I was looking up different words for squirting, so next time it happens, you don’t feel so weird about it. Even though I will always use the word squirt.” I start laughing as she pulls out her phone. “Okay, so we’ve got ‘ejaculate,’ but that sounds like something a doctor would say. How about gushing? ‘He made you gush?’” She barks out a laugh before continuing, “Then we had some more technical shit like ‘orgasmic expulsion,’ but what the hell is that? Oh, and then—then—” She gags dramatically. “I saw ‘love juice’ and started dry heaving, so I had to close the entire fucking tab.”

  “Are you done?”

  “Yeah… So you squirted?”

  “Have you ever?”

  “No. I mean, there were moments I wondered if it was happening, but I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of thing you’d be absolutely certain of…”

  “Trust me. You’d know.” I drag my hands down my face. “And it’s never happened before. Ever.”

  “It’s because you love him.”

  “Okay, you’re not twelve, and this is serious because now we’re going on a date.”

  “Because of the squirting?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Honestly? That’s fair.”

  “Obviously, it’s a lot more than that, but in the moment, I agreed, and then I saw my fucking wings tattooed across his back, which meant he had my sketchbook, and then I lost my shit… and then he kissed me, and I—” She just sips her coffee with the look of someone who absolutely saw this coming and has zero intention of pretending otherwise. “Lianna… I have never been kissed like that in my life. There are no words. My soul literally left my body.”

  “Okay, back up,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “He has your wings? What does that even mean?”

  “I’ve been sketching phoenix wings for years—don’t ask. I know I’m a mess. But he stole my sketchbook and got them tattooed on his back before the reunion.”

  “Holy shit… Okay, I have something to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “I knew he had your sketchbook.”

  “How? And why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

  “Remember when I told you I followed him down to his apartment with a knife? Well, he admitted he had it. I threatened him and everything, so I’m glad he finally told you. I wanted to say something, but I also wanted him to come forward on his own.”

  “Well, he didn’t. I found out because he accidentally showed me his back, and I recognized it.”

  “Weird, I thought he’d be smarter than that.”

  “I mean, I’m not surprised he wasn’t thinking clearly. He’d just gotten his first hand job.”

  “Fair,” she says, smirking. “But still, he’s gone and branded his body with you again. If that’s not romance in its most deranged form, I don’t know what is.”

  “Ugh, I know.” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I hate that it’s working. I hate that he knows it’s working.”

  “And then he kissed you?” I nod, and it’s ridiculous how fast my mind goes right back to being pinned between cold metal and the heat of his body. The second his tongue slid over mine, I remember thinking, Please don’t stop, because nothing has ever felt that good.

  “So… is this you letting him back in?”

  “I think I have to. I’ve tried denying myself, denying him. I’ve tried pretending I could shut it off, whatever this is, but I can’t do it.”

  “If I’m honest, I don’t think there’s any ending to this where you don’t give in to what you feel for him. You two are clearly in a can’t-live-without-each-other, soulmate situation.”

  Even though I pushed James back an hour to fit Lianna into my morning, I still ended up coming into the office. I could’ve worked from home. I have the space for it, but after spilling every feeling I’d been holding onto, staying there felt like I was trapped inside Phoenix’s world, and for a moment, I just needed to breathe.

  I didn’t make it three steps inside my office before I froze.

  The flowers James sent—those loud, ego-drenched monstrosities—are gone, replaced by deep-plum peonies and violet calla lilies, their petals so dark they’re almost black at the edges, spilling elegantly out of a gold vase.

  They’re beautiful.

  Infuriatingly perfect, actually.

  My throat tightens as I move closer, my fingers trailing over velvet-soft petals, when I spot a card propped against the vase. I already know that possessive bastard is responsible for this, and when I carefully open it, I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my lips.

  For you, pretty girl. Because if you’re going to have flowers… they should be something you love. From someone who loves you.

  I read the note three more times, my thumb tracing over his handwriting.

  Pretty girl.

  His pretty girl.

  Grinning like an idiot, I clutch the card to my chest because, honestly, I’m relieved that James’s flowers are gone.

  I sink into my desk chair, setting the card down carefully next to my keyboard where I can see it, and just like that, I’m fifteen again.

  Butterflies.

  Fucking heart flutters that have only ever happened for him.

  My phone’s sitting right in front of me, and I can’t focus on anything but this overwhelming need to text him. I want to tell him they’re perfect and that I haven’t stopped replaying that kiss. Or that I’m terrified of how easily he’s slipping back under my skin and how natural it feels to let him.

  Instead, I type, The flowers are beautiful.

  I stare at it, then quickly hit delete.

  You’re ridiculous.

  Delete.

  I love them. I probably still love you.

  Absolutely the fuck not.

  DELETE. DELETE. DELETE.

  They’re perfect, you crazy asshole. Thank you.

  Before the voice in my head can start unpacking what this means or what it doesn’t, I hit send and set the phone face down on my desk.

  I pull myself together, smooth my hair back into place, slide on my glasses, and plaster on the professional mask I’ve perfected over the years.

  The second the video call connects, James’s face fills the screen. There’s a wrongness to him that makes my skin itch. It’s probably everything Phoenix told me about him—all those warnings I dismissed as jealousy or overprotectiveness. But the way James is grinning at me now, with that sickly, smug energy radiating through the screen, sets my teeth on edge.

  “Ms. Mitchell… always a pleasure to see your face on a cold morning.”

  I give him a polite laugh despite him being an insufferable prick. “Good morning, James. How are you?”

  “I’m very well, thank you. I just wanted to let you know that I took your proposal to the board, and overall, the response was very positive.” I can practically taste the “but” before it even leaves his mouth. “What I want and what you’ve created align really well. It’s bold and modern. It’s exactly what I envisioned.” His eyes linger just a second too long before he continues. “That said, there were some concerns it might not uphold our standard of… opulence.”

  Opulence, my ass.

  “You wanted it to appeal to younger people, right?” My expression must show some of my internal rage because he backtracks immediately.

  “And you delivered that,” he adds quickly, trying to soften the blow. “I’m a huge fan, but I was thinking… maybe we could review the color palette together. Adjust a few tones and find a balance between sleek and lavish.”

  The door to my office suddenly bursts open without so much as a knock.

  No Betty.

  No warning.

  Just him.

  Phoenix stalks in like he owns the floor beneath my feet, the air in the room shifting the second he locks the door behind him.

  His eyes flick to the screen.

  He knows who I’m talking to, and he doesn’t like it.

  “They don’t like the boldness?” I ask, my eyes glued to Phoenix as he drops into the chair opposite me, his legs spread, elbows resting wide, fingers digging into the armrests.

  “I’m not actually sure,” James continues. “They asked if we could soften it a bit. I figured we could work on it together. They’ll be less likely to push back if I take the lead.”

  Phoenix’s jaw ticks, and I watch his chest rise on a slow inhale, clearly pissed because there’s no world where he’ll stand back and let another man take the lead on anything concerning me.

  Not my work.

  Not my time.

  Not my body.

  Not me.

  Not unless it’s him.

  I glance between the computer and Phoenix when James speaks again. “I hope I haven’t offended you. You look a little surprised.”

  “No, not at all,” I reply, trying to force some kind of professionalism into my voice even though my brain has officially left the chat. “I understand you have people to keep happy, and we can definitely work to get it right.”

  Phoenix’s head tilts slowly to the side, and I can feel how much he doesn’t love that answer, but for once, I’m not even trying to provoke him. This is just business.

  Except the look on his face says it’s not just fucking business.

  “Are you in the city soon?” I ask.

  “I can be later this week, but I don’t want to make this a whole thing. I’d rather keep it casual. Something… more relaxed and intimate.”

  Phoenix’s head tips back, his jaw going so tight I can see the muscle jump.

  Suddenly, he’s moving.

  He’s off the chair and sinking to his knees in front of me with zero warning.

  “Phoenix—” I hiss under my breath, but he’s already dropped under the desk, shoving my skirt up, his hands rough and possessive as they grip my thighs. He hauls me to the edge of the chair, spreading my legs wide, and I have to grab the armrests to keep from sliding off completely.

  I’m blinking hard at the screen because James is still talking.

  Still. Fucking. Talking.

  Meanwhile, there’s a kneeling god between my legs.

  “You don’t do relaxed and intimate with anyone but me, but go ahead, baby. Keep lying to him while I make you come on my tongue,” he whispers, kissing a path up my thigh. “Now be a good girl and smile for the camera while I show you what intimacy actually feels like.”

  “I use the penthouse at Lawson’s sometimes,” James says casually through the speakers. “The one in the city. I have an office space too, if you wanted to come to me⁠—”

  Phoenix slips my underwear to the side and thrusts his tongue inside me, and the way my breath catches isn’t even something I can play off.

  “—or not?”

  “No. It’s⁠—”

  What is it?

  I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore. Words dissolve on my tongue while Phoenix’s flutters against my clit, circling, sucking, and destroying every coherent thought I have.

  “I have everything I need here…”

  Thrust.

  Lick.

  Suck.

  Repeat.

  And I’m about to lose my fucking mind.

  “…at the office,” I manage to choke out.

  I try to clamp my thighs together, but Phoenix is stronger, forcing them wider and pinning me open.

  “Hang up,” he growls.

  “James, I’m really sorry, but I think…” My eyes squeeze shut as I press my fingers to my forehead, trying to sound sane while being eaten alive. “I’ve got a migraine coming on. Let me shoot you an email tomorrow, and we’ll arrange a date⁠—”

  Phoenix’s teeth sink into the inside of my thigh at the word “date,” and I barely swallow down the squeal that threatens to rip out of me.

  “Hang. The fuck. Up, Shannen,” he hisses.

  I know that voice now. It’s ownership, and he’s way too possessive to let anyone else see me come.

  “Perfect. I look forward to it,” James says, still smiling.

  I give him the world’s most awkward wave before killing the call.

  The second it ends, I throw my head back, gasping, and shove both hands into Phoenix’s dark hair, dragging him closer against me.

  “If you stop, I swear I’ll fucking suffocate you between my thighs.” I pant, feeling him chuckle darkly as he slides a finger inside me, curling it so perfectly my vision whites out for a second. “Jesus, you really are crazy.”

  “Just taking what’s mine while some cockmaggot jerks off, wishing it was his.” He lifts his head slightly, lips soaked with me, his eyes un-fucking-hinged. “And baby? You threatening to choke me with this cunt isn’t a threat. It’s my fucking wet dream, and I’ll happily die right here. Just promise you’ll make it messy.”

  His fingers start moving again, along with his tongue, and that feeling, that impossible build I’ve only felt once before, last night in this very office, starts rising fast.

  “You’re making me feel so good… You’re—fuck—you’re fucking me so good.” My fingers tighten in his hair as my back starts to arch. I slam a hand over my mouth as my orgasm crashes through me, and I feel myself flood his mouth.

  “Fuck, baby—yes.” He groans, dragging his soaked fingers out of me just to wrap his mouth around my pussy completely.

  The aftershocks hit me hard, and when my body finally starts to relax, his tongue slows, smoothing over me like he has all the time in the world. He only pulls back when I shift in the chair, my legs trembling from the overstimulation.

  When I finally look down, he’s already watching me, and I can read everything he’s feeling in that look.

  Mine.

  Still mine.

  Always fucking mine.

  And underneath all that possessive heat, there’s something more there that makes my chest tight.

  I love you.

  I’ve always loved you.

  I’ll never stop loving you.

  I cradle his jaw in my palm and force his face up to meet mine. I move in close enough to run my tongue along his lower lip, licking away every trace of myself from his mouth. His eyes darken to molten silver as I take my time, unhurried, and let him feel every inch of space disappear between us before I part his lips with my tongue.

  I need to know if that kiss in the elevator last night hit that hard because our connection is as real now as it’s ever been, or if it’s just the echo of what we once were. And the second he starts kissing me back, as soon as his hands grip my hair and his mouth turns more demanding and urgent, I have my answer.

  With him, it’s always fireworks.

  Always too much and never enough.

  I break the kiss just to breathe, just for a second, and he keeps his eyes closed like he’s still living in it.

  “You kissed me,” he whispers.

  I try to play it cool, even though my pulse is hammering in my throat. “It was a thank-you for making my morning a little better, though now I’m probably going to have to walk around without underwear for the rest of the day.”

  “Liar, you kissed me because you felt it. Same as I did. The second our mouths touched again, you remembered.” He looks down between my legs, then gently covers me back up, smoothing my skirt down. “I did try to keep your panties dry, but clearly that’s impossible when it comes to us.”

  He reaches behind him, pulls something from his back pocket, and presses it into my palm.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  Black lace.

  My black lace.

  “You stole these?”

  “Borrowed,” he corrects, completely unapologetic. “Figured I should be prepared, so now you don’t have to walk around the office with anyone being able to smell how delicious your pussy is.”

  He leans in, pressing a slow kiss to the inside of my knee. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little possessive.”

  “You? Possessive?” I tilt my head in faux shock. “Wow. Hadn’t noticed.”

  “Funny girl,” he mutters as he stands, all six-foot-whatever of him towering over me. “Put them on.”

  I rise from the chair slowly, my thighs still slick as I wriggle out of the ruined pair that hit the floor, and I don’t miss the way his eyes track them. The lace he gave me is warm from being in his pocket, and when I slide it up my thighs and smooth down my skirt, I try to gather what’s left of my composure.

  Professional.

  Put together.

  Not freshly finger-fucked during a work call.

  But I barely catch my breath before he’s behind me. Phoenix presses in, his chest flush against my back, his body heat wrapping around me like a cage. I don’t tense. I probably should, but I don’t. My body already knows him—his touch, his scent, the way everything in me softens when he’s near, as if I’m finally where I’m supposed to be. His hands settle on my waist, his mouth finds the curve of my shoulder, and I swear I feel the kiss all the way down my spine.