I told myself I wouldn't let it happen.
That I wouldn't follow Cassian when he asked, lightly, like it wasn't a big deal.
"Come with me," he said, fingers brushing mine as we left the café. "Just for a bit."
Just for a bit was always a lie.
The walk to his place was short. Too short. Close enough that our shoulders brushed, that his thumb hooked lazily into the belt loop of my jeans like it belonged there.
"You're quiet," he said.
"I'm thinking."
"Dangerous," he murmured. "For both of us."
His apartment overlooked the water. Open windows. Warm air. Low music playing from somewhere I couldn't see.
He didn't touch me right away.
Which somehow made it worse.
We stood near the window, the city humming below us, the tension stretched thin and humming between us like a live wire.
"You don't hesitate," he said finally. "Except when it matters."
I turned to face him. "You think this doesn't matter?"
"I think," he said, stepping closer, "that you like pretending you're reckless when you're actually very careful."
His hand settled at my waist. Confident. Firm. Waiting.
I leaned in first.
The kiss was slower this time. Deeper. Less playful. His hands slid up my back, fingers spreading, anchoring me there. I responded without thinking, pressing closer, feeling the heat of him through layers of clothes.
He groaned softly against my mouth.
That sound went straight through me.
We broke apart breathless.
"Stay," he said. Not a command. An invitation.
I considered it. The past. The present. The chaos I was actively creating.
"Just tonight," I said.
His smile was sharp and satisfied. "That's all I'm asking for."
Later, lying beside him, fully clothed but tangled, his arm heavy around my waist, I stared at the ceiling and wondered when exactly I'd stopped pretending this wasn't intentional.
Outside, the ocean whispered.
Somewhere across town, I knew Jude was awake.
That thought shouldn't have thrilled me.
It did.