The storm came early.
By six-thirty, the skies were thick with thunder and impatient water. City lights blurred under the downpour, and the streets thinned out with every passing minute. Her name was Rhea, and she hadn't planned on staying this long. But traffic had other ideas.
"I told you not to drive tonight," Jordan said, leaning on the edge of the counter. His voice was calm but teasing.
Rhea glanced at him over her shoulder. "And I told you I'd be fine. I didn't expect the entire sky to fall on me."
He handed her a towel, fingers brushing hers.
Their apartment was small—warm, cluttered, a little too quiet. They hadn't been dating long. A few months. But everything felt… **undone** tonight.
She peeled off her damp jacket and kicked off her boots by the door. Her jeans clung to her thighs, soaked through. Jordan was staring, not even hiding it.
"You want to say something?" she asked, drying her hair.
"Only that you're incredibly distracting in wet clothes."
She snorted, but her cheeks warmed. "Pervert."
"Maybe."
Their eyes held.
It was always like this with them: casual touches, jokes with sharp edges, glances that lasted too long. But they hadn't crossed the line. Not yet.
Rhea stepped forward. The towel hung around her neck now, forgotten. Her wet shirt clung to her skin like a second breath, revealing the swell of her breasts, the lines of her body. Jordan swallowed.
She stopped inches from him.
"Still distracted?"
"Very."
"I could take it off," she said, voice low.
Jordan blinked. "The shirt?"
Rhea tilted her head. "Unless you want me to start with something else."
That did it.
Jordan kissed her.
Not carefully. Not politely.
His mouth found hers like he'd been waiting all year. She gasped against his lips as his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Her heart thundered louder than the rain.
She kissed him harder.
"Wait," he muttered, breaking contact just enough to breathe. "Are you sure?"
"I've been sure since the third date."
"Why didn't you—"
"Because I wanted the first time to be when I couldn't stop myself."
She reached for his shirt, dragging it upward. His skin was warm, his chest firm under her hands. She kissed down his neck, tasting salt and heat, her breath coming quicker now.
He grabbed her thighs and lifted her like she weighed nothing. She wrapped her legs around his waist, lips never leaving his. He walked them toward the bedroom, but they didn't make it far.
The hallway wall caught them.
Rhea moaned as his mouth found her neck, kissing, nipping, teasing. His fingers slid under her shirt and up her spine, unhooking her bra with a practiced flick.
"You've done this before," she whispered, biting his shoulder playfully.
"Only in dreams."
Her shirt came off next, along with her bra, and then they were skin to skin, heat to heat.
He dropped to his knees, kissing down her stomach, licking water droplets off her skin. She leaned back against the wall, breathing hard, eyes closed.
"Don't tease," she murmured.
"I'm worshipping."
"Jordan."
But he didn't stop. His hands slid down her hips, thumbs brushing the waistband of her soaked jeans.
"Let me taste you."
Rhea's breath caught. He looked up at her, eyes dark with hunger.
She nodded.
He unbuttoned her jeans slowly, peeling them down inch by inch. Her panties followed, soaked not from rain, but her own heat. He lifted her leg over his shoulder and kissed the inside of her thigh.
And then—
"Oh," she gasped.
His mouth was soft but certain, tongue slow, deliberate, making her twitch and moan with every flick. Her hand found his hair and clutched tight.
"F-fuck, Jordan…"
He didn't answer, just moaned into her, the vibration making her hips buck. She was trembling now, the wall cold behind her, his mouth hot on her center.
"I'm gonna—"
She came with a gasp, biting her own wrist to stay quiet, legs shaking around his shoulders. He didn't stop until she pushed him away, overstimulated and breathless.
Jordan stood, wiping his mouth, eyes glittering.
"You're... insane," she panted.
"You're beautiful when you come undone."
She pulled him in, kissed him fiercely, tasting herself on his lips. Her hands fumbled at his pants, desperate now.
"I want you inside me."
"I want to be inside you."
His pants fell to the floor, boxers next. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around him. He groaned into her neck.
She guided him to the bedroom, both of them stripping the last pieces of clothing like they were on fire. They fell onto the bed together, messy and laughing and hungry.
Jordan positioned himself over her, nudging at her entrance.
Rhea held his face. "Look at me."
He did.
And then he pushed in—slow, stretching, filling.
They both moaned.
He started to move, gently at first, watching her face for every reaction. She dug her nails into his back, rolling her hips to meet him.
"Harder," she breathed.
He obeyed.
Their bodies moved together like they were made to. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, louder than the rain. Her legs wrapped around him again, pulling him deeper.
"I've wanted this," she gasped. "Wanted *you*…"
He kissed her shoulder, her jaw, her lips.
"I'm here. I'm yours."
Their rhythm built, a rising storm of need and pleasure. Rhea cried out as her second orgasm tore through her. Jordan held back as long as he could, but she clenched around him, and he couldn't hold it anymore.
With a strangled groan, he came inside her, collapsing onto her chest, breath ragged, heart racing.
Silence.
Only the storm outside remained.
He kissed her collarbone. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, eyes closed, smiling. "Better than okay."
They lay tangled in the sheets, limbs wrapped around each other.
After a long while, Rhea whispered, "I think I love you."
Jordan didn't move. Then he kissed her slowly, deeply.
"I know I love you."
**One Week Later**
The rain had stopped.
Rhea stood in the kitchen, wrapped in a thin robe, pouring coffee. Jordan came up behind her, kissing the back of her neck.
"You're gonna distract me again," she teased.
"Then I'm doing my job."
He wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned back into him.
And that's when the knock came.
Three sharp knocks at the door.
Jordan frowned. "You expecting someone?"
She shook her head. "No."
He went to the door and opened it.
A man in a black suit stood there. He looked vaguely familiar—Rhea's stomach dropped.
"Jordan Vale?" the man asked.
"Yes."
He handed Jordan a sealed envelope.
Jordan opened it.
He went pale.
Rhea walked over, eyes scanning his face. "What is it?"
Jordan slowly turned to her, voice quiet.
"It's… about my brother."
"You never told me you had a brother."
He looked at her, eyes wide. "I don't. At least… I thought I didn't."
The letter in his hand began to hum.
Then it burst into flames.
They both stared as the ashes scattered at their feet.