Chapter 11: Fire Escape Encore

The bedroom still smelled of them—skin and spent pleasure, the faint trace of red wine that had spilled earlier when they’d laughed too hard over nothing. Sarah lay curled against Alex’s side, one leg thrown over his hip, her breathing slow but not quite settled. The sheets clung to the damp curve of her lower back. Moonlight cut through the blinds in thin silver bars across the bed, highlighting the faint sheen on her collarbone and the way his fingers traced idle circles along the swell of her ass.

Neither of them had spoken for several minutes. The quiet felt too loud after everything they’d done tonight. After the scarf, the slow torture of her mouth, the way she’d ridden him backward so he could watch every roll of her hips. After the way she’d come with his name breaking on her lips and the way he’d spilled deep inside her while the headboard knocked a soft, familiar rhythm against the wall.

Sarah lifted her head. Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder, messy and wild. “We’re never going to sleep like this.”

Alex’s mouth curved, lazy and knowing. “You got a better idea, teacher?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead she sat up, the sheet pooling at her waist, full breasts bare in the low light. Her gaze flicked toward the window, then back to him. “The fire escape. Where it all started.”

His eyebrows rose, but the spark in his eyes said yes before his mouth did. “Right now?”

“Right now.” She stood, letting the sheet fall completely. The cool air kissed her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and tightening her nipples into dark peaks. She didn’t reach for clothes. Just the silky robe she’d worn earlier, slipping it over her shoulders and leaving it untied. The hem brushed the tops of her thighs, parting with every step.

Alex followed her lead, pulling on nothing but a pair of loose black boxers that did nothing to hide how hard he already was again. He caught her wrist before she reached the window, tugging her back for one slow, filthy kiss—tongue sliding deep, hand cupping the back of her neck like he wanted to keep her right there. When they broke apart, both of them were breathing harder.

They stepped out together.

The shared fire escape greeted them with a soft metallic creak under their bare feet. Night air wrapped around them, warm for April but alive with the city’s restless breath. Far below, streetlights painted the alley in hazy gold, and the low rumble of late traffic drifted up like distant thunder. Windows in the building across the way were mostly dark, but a few glowed soft amber—close enough to feel dangerous, far enough to feel safe. Or safe enough.