Chapter 4

I woke up tangled in her.

My legs draped over hers. One of her thighs still sticky against mine. Her hair in my face. Her arm across my chest like she was staking a claim.

We were warm. Breath matched. Hearts synced. The kind of sleep that left you weightless.

For a few seconds, I didn’t remember the night before.

Then I did.

The morning wake-up sex. The blowjob. The anal. The proposal.

Jesus.

She shifted against me with a sleepy purr and nuzzled closer, pressing a lazy kiss against my jaw. Her hand slid down to my hip, and lower. Testing. Teasing.

I caught her wrist gently.

“You’re insatiable,” I said, voice still rough with sleep.

She smiled against my neck. “You make it hard not to be.”

I kissed the top of her head. Held her close. But didn’t let her coax anything more out of me.

We dozed off again for a little while. Maybe an hour.

When I woke up, she was gone.

The smell of coffee pulled me to the kitchen.

She was barefoot, wearing one of my t-shirts, humming to herself while she flipped pancakes.

Chloe doesn’t cook. Ever. I’m the one who does all the groceries, all the meal prep. She survives on frozen burritos and postmates.

So seeing her like this? Domestic? It rattled me more than it should have.

She turned and smiled when she saw me. “You’re up. Sit. I made food.”

I sat. Still shirtless. Still processing.

She brought me a plate like we’d been doing this for years. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon. Coffee already poured.

“Thanks,” I said. “You uh ... feeling alright?”

She shrugged, casual. “I’m amazing.”

I nodded slowly. Took a bite. Let it sit.

“So ... Gina.”

Her eyes flicked to me. “Yeah?”

“Have you mentioned her before?”

Chloe’s smile was easy. “Gina? I work with her. You’d like her.”

I didn’t answer. Just chewed.

Something in my chest felt tight. Off. I didn’t know if it was jealousy or confusion or just my brain trying to catch up with everything we’d said and done in the last 24 hours.

Chloe leaned on the counter and studied me. “You’re thinking too much.”

I looked up at her. “And you’re not thinking enough.”

She grinned. “That’s what makes us perfect.”

BAILEY

She didn’t expect to dream about him again.

But she did. Second time this week.
Bailey was petite. Barely five feet tall. Pale with dusting freckles across her nose and shoulders. Her dark red hair fell in thick waves she usually wore in loose pigtails, like she never quite aged out of her teenage look. Her voice was quiet, her presence quieter. In high school, people said she looked like a doll.

But in the dream, she hadn’t felt small or delicate.

She felt taken.

Hunter. Bent over her. Hands on her hips. Stretching her ass in ways that made her legs shake.

And Chloe was there. Watching. Nodding. Telling her she was doing good. Telling her she was finally letting herself be what she really was. A good little slut.

When Bailey woke up, her sheets were damp and her thighs slick with need. Her sheets twisted. Her thighs clenched.

She hadn’t even seen Hunter in years.

Not since prom. Not since that awkward goodbye. She hadn’t thought of him in forever. Not until yesterday. Not until the dream.

But now she couldn’t stop.

And her body was different.

Fuller. Softer in the hips. Lips plumper. Her nipples ached against her thin t-shirt, stiff from the air, from her thoughts.

It wasn’t just a crush. It wasn’t nostalgia.

It was a need.

She didn’t know where he lived. But she knew Chloe worked in her building.

Monday. She’d find her.

She had to.

GINA

She changed her outfit three times.

First a loose summer dress. Then jeans and a cropped hoodie. Then back to the dress, only to swap it for something tighter. She didn’t know what look she was going for—casual, flirty, just-happened-to-look-this-good—but none of it felt right.

She couldn’t get the dream out of her head.

This one had been different. More vivid. More male.

There was a man this time—with her. Inside her. And Chloe was there, but only barely. Her face, her voice, blurred at the edges. But the heat stayed sharp. Her body remembered.

When she woke up, she was flushed. Aching. Her underwear damp and clinging, embarrassingly wet the moment she sat up. She masturbated quickly—desperately—but it only took the edge off.

It wasn’t the dream. Not exactly. It was something beneath it. A hunger she didn’t know how to name.

She did her makeup. Applied a little extra gloss. Changed her outfit again.

She checked the time.

Then she left.

By the time she stood in front of Chloe’s building, her pulse was racing.

She smoothed her dress. Rang the buzzer.

And waited.

CHLOE

She’d given Hunter space all day.

He hadn’t said it outright, but she could feel the way his energy had shifted—quieter, more withdrawn. The proposal had caught her off guard, sure, but it clearly rattled him more. So she let him be. Gave him room to wander, to think, to recalibrate.

Meanwhile, she dressed herself slowly, deliberately. She tried on five different outfits before settling on one that made her tits look incredible—tight in the right places, sheer in just the right light. The kind of outfit that said she wasn’t just hot—she was in control.

Everything was going her way.

Hunter was hers. Gina was on her way. It was unfolding exactly as it should.

She lit candles. Put on soft music. Checked her lipstick again.

And when the buzzer rang, she grinned like she already knew how the night would end.

Before answering, she checked on Hunter.

He was in the living room, scrolling on his phone, barefoot, wearing that fitted black t-shirt she loved. She let her gaze linger—his arms, his profile, the way his hair curled a little at the nape. He didn’t look up.

Good. Let him stew a bit longer.

She opened the door.

Gina stood in the hall, a little breathless, a little too polished.

“Hey,” Chloe said, smiling.

“Hi,” Gina said. Her voice was soft, but her eyes flicked over Chloe’s body, lingering at her chest, then her lips. “You look ... wow.”

“Come in.”

Gina stepped inside. Chloe shut the door behind her.

“Gina, this is Hunter. Hunter—Gina.”

Hunter stood politely and offered his hand. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

Gina shook it. “You too.”

Her hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary.

Chloe caught it. And smiled.

She led them toward the table, where Hunter had already set out plates and a still-steaming dish of pasta. Garlic and butter scented the air. Gina took a deep breath and hummed appreciatively.

“Hunter made dinner,” Chloe said, tossing him a sly look. “He’s always been good with his hands.”

Hunter coughed once. Blushed. Gina’s eyebrow arched, amused—and intrigued.

Hunter cleared his throat and motioned for them to sit. “Please. Hope you’re hungry.”

They settled in. Chloe slid into the seat beside Hunter, Gina across from them. As the plates were passed, Chloe’s hand drifted under the table and rested on Hunter’s thigh.

He didn’t flinch, but his jaw tensed.

“So, Gina,” Hunter said, willing his voice steady. “What do you do at the firm?”

Gina smiled as she twirled pasta onto her fork. “Marketing strategy. I mostly handle pitches and brand overhauls for our startup clients. It’s fun. Fast-paced. Cutthroat in a way that’s weirdly addictive.”

Chloe’s fingers squeezed gently.

Hunter nodded, trying not to lose his train of thought. “Sounds intense.”

“It is,” she said. “But I like pressure.”

Chloe let out the softest hum. Hunter felt it vibrate against his side.

Unspoken heat rippled under the polite conversation.

HUNTER

The wine kept flowing. I poured a second glass for each of them, then a third. They laughed more as they drank, their voices getting looser, the air around the table getting warmer by the minute.

After a while, I stood. “Bathroom. Be right back.”

They both nodded, already giggling at some inside joke. I walked down the hall, took my time, splashed some water on my face.

By the time I came back out, they had moved to the sofa. Shoes off. Legs tucked beneath them. Laughing louder now. The bottle of wine was half-empty again.

I gave them space.

Went to my room. Picked up the controller. Tried to get into a game.

It half-worked.

The laughter kept filtering in through the hallway. Muffled, breathy. I heard my name once. Then a long silence. Then more laughter.