The shop after dark was a different animal.
Quiet. Empty.
Still humming with the memory of his hands on tools… and on me, even if only in my imagination.
I'd left my phone charger behind. That was the excuse.
What I really left behind was dignity. Boundaries. A plan.
The lights were off when I stepped inside, but I didn't need them.
I knew the layout.
Knew the way the floor creaked near the back.
Knew the chair he always sat in when he was thinking too hard and drinking too slow.
I made it two steps before I froze.
He was still here.
Leaning against the far wall, arms folded. Shadowed. Still as sin.
"You broke the rule," Jesse said softly.
I swallowed.
"It's after hours," I whispered. "We're not on your floor anymore."
He pushed off the wall, walking toward me slow. Deliberate. That same weight in every step. Like he wanted me to feel him coming before he ever touched me.
"You want to play games, kid?"
"I'm not a kid," I said, lifting my chin.
He stopped in front of me. Inches away.
"No," he murmured. "You're a brat."
His hand came up—knuckles grazing my jaw. Gentle. Measured.
My breath stuttered.
"I've seen the way you look at me," Jesse said. "The way your thighs clench when I tell you what to do."
I couldn't speak.
"You want me to give in," he continued. "You want me to break."
He leaned closer—his lips grazing the shell of my ear.
"I don't break, Kade."
But then his fingers closed around my throat.
Light. Testing.
My body arched without permission.
"See," he whispered, "you already want to obey."
I gasped. He pressed his palm lightly against my neck, not choking—just holding. Claiming.
A silent promise.
My knees buckled. He caught me. Of course he did.
Then he leaned in, lips brushing mine but not quite kissing.
"Go home," Jesse said. "While I still remember why I shouldn't ruin you."
---
I didn't move. Couldn't.
He stepped back, but not before his thumb dragged across my lower lip—slow. Filthy.
Then he walked away, boots echoing in the dark.
And I stood there.
Hard. Shaking. Wanting.
More.