Chapter 4

Gwen’s voice drifts down the stairs again, closer than ever this time—sleepy but alert.

  “Selene?is that you? I heard… a moan or something. You okay over there?”

  My heart stops in fear.

  Christian’s mouth is still pressed between my thighs, his tongue still frozen mid-lick. His hands grip my hips like iron. I feel his breath hot and ragged against me, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t dare.

  Footsteps, —soft, padding closer.

  Panic explodes in my chest.

  I shove his head back—hard. He ducks instantly, dropping low, sliding under the counter island in one sharp fluid motion. Shirtless, briefs straining, body coiled tight. He presses against the cabinets, holding his breath, eyes wide up at me in the dark.

  I yank my shorts and panties up in one frantic pull, heart jackhammering so loud I’m sure she’ll hear it.

  The kitchen door swings open.

  Gwen stands there in her oversized sleep shirt, hair messy, rubbing one eye. “Selene? You’re here, i, I swear I heard something. Like… a groan. Are you okay? Constipation or something?”

  I’m leaning against the counter, legs shaking, trying to look normal. My face burns. I can still feel the wet heat between my thighs, the ghost of his tongue.

  “Y-yeah,” I stammer, voice too high. “Constipation. Bad. Really needed water. It… hit me sudden.”

  She frowns, steps closer. “You sure? You look flushed. And you’re breathing weird.”

  I force a laugh—choked, awkward. “Water. Just water. Helps sometimes.”

  She nods slowly, yawns. “Okay… I need some too.”

  She starts toward the fridge.

  “No!” I blurt, stepping in front of her. Too fast. Too obvious.

  She blinks. “What?”

  “I mean—I’ve got it. The bottle’s right here.” I snatch the open water from the counter, thrust it toward her. “This one’s cold. Fresh. Take it. You don’t want to open the fridge light—it’ll wake your parents.”

  She hesitates, then shrugs. “Fine. Thanks.”

  She takes the bottle, drinks a long sip, wipes her mouth. “Come on, let’s go back up. You look like you need to lie down.”

  I nod—too eagerly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

  I glance once—quick—at the floor under the counter. Christian’s eyes meet mine in the shadows. Still holding his breath. Still hard. Still waiting.

  Gwen turns toward the hallway.

  I follow, legs like jelly, every step screaming don’t look back, don’t look back.

  We climb the stairs together. She slips her arm through mine, sleepy and trusting.

  “You’re acting so weird tonight,” she murmurs.

  I swallow. “Just… tired.”

  We reach the landing. She squeezes my arm. “Night, girl. Feel better.”

  “Night.”

  Her door clicks shut.

  I stand frozen in the hallway for three full seconds, listening to the house settle.

  Then I turn.

  Downstairs, the kitchen light is still on.

  And I know he’s still there—waiting.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket.

  I don’t look yet.

  But I already know who it is.