The music pulsed, but all Naya could hear was her own heartbeat—wild and loud in her chest after Cole's lips had just claimed hers.
His hand settled deeper on her waist, fingers pressing like he didn't want to let her go. She felt tethered to him, breath short, body lit up.
She leaned back just enough to meet his eyes that almost consumed her.
A few feet away, Jenny spun out of Dane's hold, her laugh rising above the bass—easy, bright, like nothing could touch her. Dane watched her with that lazy kind of smirk, like he didn't care, but his eyes told a different story. He was tracking her every move like she was a habit he hadn't meant to pick up.
Jenny caught Naya's eye and raised a brow—not wild, not teasing, just... knowing. Like she saw exactly what was happening and gave it her blessing.
Cole noticed, jaw tightening for half a second. He didn't say a word. Just pulled Naya in, flush against him. She didn't resist.
The air between them crackled, loud in its silence. His palm at her lower back was fire. Possessive. Assured. And when the next beat dropped—slower, heavier—it felt like the room bent around them.
Jenny was already stepping back, her eyes still locked on Naya's for one last beat. She gave a single nod—subtle, sure—then turned, taking Dane's hand without hesitation. He didn't even pretend to protest. Just let her lead him off the floor like they had business elsewhere. Like he'd waited all night for her to say yes.
And Naya?
She was still standing there, with Cole's hand on her, his scent all around her, her lips tingling with memory.
The next song bled into something softer—still rhythmic, but slower, less urgent. Around them, the crowd shifted, energy cooling. Cole leaned down, his breath skimming the top of Naya's ear.
"Come," he murmured, voice low.
He didn't wait for an answer—just took her hand, fingers curling around hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. She let him lead her, through the crowd and toward the sleek glass doors tucked just beyond the VIP lounge.
The balcony welcomed them with a rush of chilled air and the glitter of Tassi stretched out below—endless lights scattered like stars fallen to earth, sharp and humming and alive.
Naya moved to the railing silently, her fingers brushing the metal, eyes catching on the city that never seemed to sleep.
Cole came up beside her, wordless for a moment, then unfastened his jacket and laid it over her shoulders. His hands lingered a second too long, as if grounding himself.
She didn't speak. Just exhaled, slow.
He stepped to the side and tapped something on his phone. A moment later, a server appeared with two tequila shots—no salt, no lime, just clean fire in crystal glasses.
Cole handed her one, their fingers brushing. That light touch buzzed straight up her arm.
The shot hit the back of her throat like heat and truth. She blinked once, and by the time she set the glass down, Cole was closer. Not crowding—just near enough that her body noticed.
The wind toyed with her hair. He reached out, casually brushing a strand behind her ear. His fingertips grazed her skin and lingered. Her breath caught.
"You always this quiet?" he asked, voice dipped in curiosity, not demand.
Naya blinked, letting the weight of his words settle. Her mouth tilted in a half-smile, her voice quiet but steady.
"I don't know."
Her eyes flicked back to the skyline. The wind moved through her hair again, tugging it free from where he'd smoothed it, like the moment wanted to undo itself but couldn't.
Cole didn't say anything. He just studied her—gaze pinned to her face like it was a puzzle he wasn't trying to solve, just memorize.
He stepped closer.
His hands rose and settled at her shoulders, warm and certain, thumbs brushing over the edges of his jacket where it wrapped her in his presence. She didn't flinch, didn't pull back. If anything, she leaned into the stillness between them.
Her eyes lifted, chin tilting. Not an invitation, but not a barrier either.
There was a breath—one long, charged second—where everything in her stilled. Where a kiss could've happened but it didn't.
Instead, the moment stretched, delicate and thick like smoke curling in slow motion. The kind of silence that didn't ask for words because it was already full.
Naya was the one who cut through it, voice soft and self-aware, a small smile tugging at her lips like she knew the pull of this moment, even if she wasn't falling into it.
"This is the part where I'm supposed to make the smart decision and go home."
She glanced up at him—not teasing, not coy. Just real. Honest.
Cole didn't drop his hands. His voice came low, measured.
"That what you're gonna do?"
Another pause.
She looked at him, gaze steady. Let the question sit between them like a thread stretched taut.
Then she inhaled. Exhaled slowly.
"I don't know." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I probably should."
His tone shifted—serious, protective.
"Let me take you home. No pressure."
"…Okay."
Outside, the air was cooler, but Cole still felt warm. Their fingers laced tight, heavy with unspoken words.
He chuckled low, shifting gears. "Where to, quiet girl?"
"Just near Adams. You'll see the gate."
Inside the car, streetlights sliced through the dark, casting sharp shadows across her face. Sweat and perfume lingered between them.
Cole glanced her way again. She sat stiff, fingers clenched, eyes fixed ahead.
He reached out, brushing a hand lightly over her bare thigh.
"You okay?"
She nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just tired."
Cole didn't move his hand. "Uh-huh. I see."
"You've been so quiet. Careful. I don't know," she said softly, leaning in a bit.
Cole smirked. "Careful's not really in my vocabulary. But you still get me every time."
He paused, voice dropping.
"I'm two seconds from pulling over and kissing the breath right out of you, beautiful stranger."
Naya's breath hitched. She tugged at her dress, suddenly too aware of how short it was, how close they were.
The air between them thickened.
Cole glanced over—his gaze slow, unreadable. "Unless that's not what you want," he added, voice softer now, edged with restraint.
Her lips parted. She didn't speak right away. Just turned toward him slightly, knees brushing, breath uneven.
That was all he needed.
The car slid to the curb in one fluid motion. He didn't ask again.
He leaned in.
And kissed her—slow at first. Testing. Tasting. Then deeper, like gravity had finally won.
His fingers tangled in her hair, breath hot against her cheek.
The kiss turned rougher, more urgent, as if holding back had only made them hungrier.
Naya's pulse thundered in her ears. Her hand found his chest—then his neck—pulling him closer. Her soft sigh made his lips press harder.
"Right here," he murmured against her mouth, voice low and raw. "No one else but us."
His hand slid beneath the hem of her dress. Warm, confident. Fingers tracing slow, maddening paths over her hip.
She stiffened at first—but didn't stop him.
And when she trembled under his touch, he stilled. Just a second. Just enough to check.
"You're okay?" he asked against her neck, voice gentler now, barely audible.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Just… don't stop."
That was it.
His lips found hers again—possessive this time, claiming. One hand gripping her waist like he needed to anchor her to the moment.
"You're mine tonight," he growled against her skin. "And I'm gonna make sure you remember it."
Her body melted into his. Heat met heat. The spark between them caught fire.
Her breath came in soft gasps, each one caught between his lips and the fever building between them. His hand slipped higher, teasing the edge of her underwear now—just enough to make her squirm, not enough to give her relief.
Naya moaned into his mouth, quiet and aching. The sound went straight to his gut.
"God, Naya," he whispered, forehead pressed to hers.
Her hips shifted toward him—unconscious, instinctual. She was trembling, yes, but not from fear. From want. From the tension coiled tight in her belly, begging for more.
His fingers finally slid beneath the fabric, slow, reverent—like he didn't just want to touch her, he wanted to learn her.
She arched, and he swallowed her sharp inhale like a secret he swore to keep.
"I've got you," he breathed, fingers moving with maddening care. "Every second. Right here."
Naya couldn't think. Couldn't speak. Her hands clutched his shirt, nails digging in as pleasure overtook restraint.
But then—
A sharp buzz ripped through the silence.
Cole froze.
His phone lit up on the console. He stared at it, jaw clenched. Something in his expression shifted—like a shadow had cut through the night.
Slowly, he pulled back. Kiss fading into breath. His hand lingered on her waist, but the moment had cracked.
He slipped the phone into his pocket without answering, tension now stitched tight across his shoulders.