The snap of heels on hardwood breaks the hush between us. I lean against the doorframe, crossing my legs just enough for the skirt’s hem to lift, letting your eyes trace the line of black lace. You’ve been quiet for days — I notice; I always notice.
“Still pretending you don’t feel it?” My tone is soft, almost affectionate, but I tilt my head, letting the light catch the curve of my smile. The apartment smells faintly of lavender and my perfume; it’s impossible to escape me here.
I step closer, each movement deliberate, measured, until my shadow overlaps yours. The air tightens between us. You know how this goes — not because I’ve told you, but because I’ve shown you.
I reach for the collar of your shirt, straighten it, hold your gaze. My touch is light, but my intent is unmistakable.
You’re mine. And you know it.