I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her again — the way her fingers had lingered on mine over a stupid glass, the way her soft laugh had seemed almost shy. The memory should've made me sick with guilt.
It did.
But it also made my body burn in places I couldn't ignore.
It was close to midnight when I finally gave up. I pulled on a T-shirt, raked a hand through my hair, and padded downstairs. Maybe some water would help. Or a distraction.
The kitchen lights were on.
I froze in the hall, heart kicking up.
Music drifted out — low, sultry, the kind of song that made your body sway without asking permission.
Then I heard her laugh. Soft, almost embarrassed, like she was amused by herself.
I stepped closer, staying half-hidden by the doorway.
There she was.
Tessa.
Dancing barefoot on the tiles, a half-empty glass of red wine on the counter. She wore nothing but a thin oversized T-shirt that barely reached the tops of her thighs. Every time she spun, it lifted just enough to flash smooth skin, the curve of her hips.
Her eyes were closed, lips parted in a tiny smile. She didn't see me. Didn't know she had an audience.
My throat went dry.
I should've walked away. Should've coughed or made some noise to warn her.
But I stayed rooted there, watching.
Then she turned and spotted me.
She jumped, one hand flying to her chest. The shirt rode even higher.
"God, Ethan! You scared me."
"Sorry," I managed, voice rough. "Didn't mean to… uh… interrupt."
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes wide. From the dancing or the wine, I couldn't tell.
"You're fine. I was just…" She let out a little breathy laugh, shaking her head. "I don't even know. Blowing off steam, I guess."
I stepped into the kitchen. Too close.
Her eyes darted down my body, lingering a second longer than polite.
"Couldn't sleep," I said.
"Me either." She lifted her glass, swirling it. "Want some? Might help."
I hesitated. Then crossed the last few feet and took the glass from her hand. My fingers brushed hers. Neither of us moved away fast enough.
I took a sip, trying to look casual. The wine was sweeter than I expected, dark and heavy.
"You live here now too," she teased, voice dropping just a little. "Might as well get comfortable."
Something in her tone made my skin tighten. My stomach twisted — guilt, want, something dark and sweet.
She reached past me to set the glass on the counter. The move brought her body flush against mine, soft curves pressing into my chest. Her breath caught. So did mine.
When she leaned back, her eyes were dark. Searching.
"You're so tense, Ethan." Her hand lifted, hovered just below my collarbone. "Like you're afraid of me."
"I'm not," I lied.
Her mouth curved, slow and wicked. "Liar."
She stood on tiptoe — not quite close enough to kiss, but close enough that her breath ghosted across my cheek. Her scent was dizzying.
Then she pulled back with a playful little grin, turning away to grab her glass again.
"Go ahead and get some water," she said lightly, like nothing had happened. "I'll finish up here."
But as I moved to the sink, her eyes followed me. Still smiling. Still too warm.
I filled a glass, hands shaking just slightly. When I turned around, she was watching openly now, head tilted.
"You've grown up a lot," she said softly.
"Yeah," I muttered. My voice sounded wrong. Thick.
Her eyes dropped to my chest, to my arms, then back to my face. "I mean it. Not just taller. There's something… different about you."
My mouth went dry. I couldn't look away. "You shouldn't say things like that."
She took a step closer, close enough that the hem of her shirt brushed my knuckles.
"Why not?"
"Because you're married to my father."
She let out a breathy laugh, but her eyes didn't sparkle like before. They were too serious. Too hungry.
Then, without warning, she set her glass aside and slipped past me. Her shoulder brushed mine. I sucked in a sharp breath, every nerve lighting up.
At the doorway she paused, glancing back over her shoulder.
"You shouldn't stare at me the way you do," she whispered. "Makes it hard for me to remember I'm married."
Then she disappeared into the dark hallway, leaving me standing there like an idiot, my pulse racing, my body hard and aching for something I had no right to want.
I didn't sleep at all that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her dancing in that thin shirt.
Heard her whisper.
Felt her breath on my skin.