She knocked like she knew I'd answer. No urgency. Just… certainty. It was past midnight. The city hummed the way it only does when it thinks no one's listening—wet streets, a siren somewhere, elevator cables whining through concrete. I opened the door in nothing but low light and a pair of sweatpants. Her eyes moved down my chest like they had every right. “I didn’t think you’d come.” She stepped inside. Wet hair. Lips pa...

She didn’t knock. Just that soft, nearly insolent tap, like she already knew he’d be standing behind the door. And he was. The corridor outside the hotel room was stale with the scent of old carpet cleaner and something cheap and floral. One overhead light buzzed above her, casting a half-shadow across her collarbone. Her coat was long. Buttoned to the top. But the slit in the back offered a glimpse of a single bare calf...