"I missed you." And it wasn't coy this time. It was soft. Honest. Devastating.
The words sank in. His heart kicked. Aiden looked at her — really looked — and saw the girl she used to be tangled up in the woman she'd become: dangerous, unhinged… but still somehow his, in a way that made him sick with guilt.
"You shouldn't have come here," he said. His voice wasn't flat anymore. It cracked at the edges, deepened with something he didn't want to name.
"And yet…" She took a single step closer. His breath hitched. "You didn't stop me."
Her fingers brushed his wrist. Barely. Like testing a live wire.
"You remember the night on the fire escape?" she asked. "When it rained, and you said if we didn't die young, we'd burn out old and ugly instead?"
He did remember. The kiss. The way her thighs wrapped around his waist. The taste of blood and adrenaline in the back of his throat.
"That wasn't love," he muttered.
"It was real," she said, voice thickening. "More real than this little fantasy you're playing now — these friends, this sleepy town, that blonde Barbie clinging to your arm."
Aiden's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk about her."
Connie grinned, sharp and too knowing. "Touchy. Must be serious."
She reached up, trailing her fingertips just under his collarbone — barely brushing skin, but it felt electric. "But tell me… when she touches you, do you feel it like you used to with me?"
He grabbed her wrist, not rough — but firm. Her breath hitched.
"This isn't some game," he said.
But the heat between them said otherwise.
Her lips parted, the look in her eyes fever-bright. "Everything's a game, Shade. But you used to like when I played dirty."
Their faces were inches apart. Aiden's breath mingled with hers, the ghost of a kiss hanging heavy between them. For a heartbeat — just one — he almost leaned in.
Then he dropped her wrist like it burned.
"You're poison, Connie."
"And you used to drink deep," she whispered, her voice velvet-wrapped sin.
She turned then, brushing past him, dragging her hand along his side, slow — intentional. She paused at the door, glanced back, eyes blazing.
"You can lie to them. But your body remembers."
The words dripped from Connie's lips like honey laced with poison. She didn't whisper them — she breathed them, like a secret meant to crawl into Aiden's bones.
He stood still, every nerve on edge as the room around them seemed to pulse, shadows thickening with something unspoken. She stood near the cracked window, the dim light catching in her eyes — wild, brilliant, unhinged.
"You weren't supposed to live, Shade," she said softly, her voice almost trembling with rage… and relief. "I was told you were gone. Dead. But I could never believe it."
She turned to face him slowly, almost reverently, like he was a ghost she wasn't sure she should touch. Her steps toward him were deliberate, hips swaying, her boots clicking softly against the floor — the sound of control she didn't really have.
"And then you show up… breathing. Still gorgeous. Still mine."
Aiden's jaw tightened. "I'm not yours, Connie."
Her grin sharpened, and she closed the distance until there were inches between them. He could smell her — that same perfume she always wore, sharp vanilla with something darker underneath.
"You left me to rot in that silence," she said, pressing a hand against his chest — not hard, but firm enough to feel the thud of his heart. "You left me… and I hated you for it. But hating you only made me want you more."
Her fingers slid down, slow. Familiar. Bold. Aiden didn't move. Couldn't.
"I want to hate you right now," she whispered. "But all I can think about is how your hands felt on my skin. How you looked when everything was burning and you still kissed me like we'd survive it."
He grabbed her wrist, halting her movement, his grip tight — but not painful. She sucked in a breath, like the contact excited her.
"You burned down my apartment," he said, voice low and edged in fury. "You killed Mrs. P."
Her expression faltered — just for a second. Then came the ache, the desire, the obsession burning in her eyes.
"I didn't mean for her to die," she murmured. "I just… couldn't stand seeing you drift. She was pulling you away from me, teaching you to be someone you're not."
Aiden's grip loosened, but his hand didn't fall away. His eyes locked with hers.
"She saved me."
Connie's gaze softened. Her voice cracked.
"So did I. Just in a different way."
She moved forward, their bodies now barely apart. Her lips brushed the corner of his jaw, not quite a kiss — just the suggestion of one. Her breath was hot against his skin.
"You remember, don't you?" she whispered. "What it felt like. When it was just us… and the world couldn't touch us."