I shouldn’t have opened the door.
I knew it the second I did.
There she was — Celestia Valentina Moreau, standing on my doorstep like temptation in designer boots and a skirt that wasn’t regulation for anything but my blood pressure.
She had snacks, drinks and a tote bag she claimed was full of "study materials."
Oh also a look in her eyes that said she’d rather fail her midterms than leave this apartment untouched.
"Hi," she said, like she hadn’t just shattered my entire perception of reality the day before. "Miss me?"
She stepped in without waiting to be invited. "Mmm. You’ll have to be more specific."
"About Lucien. Being your brother."
She tilted her head and gave me that infuriating half-smile. "Technically, I didn’t lie. I just curated the information I gave you."
"That’s called lying."
She shrugged and tossed her bag onto my couch.
> "You’re lucky I’m into emotionally complex men."
I closed the door behind her.
Maybe I was already too far gone.
She flopped onto my couch like she owned it. Crossed her legs, pulled out a notebook, and cracked open a soda.
"Studying," she announced. "Let’s go."
We didn’t get past ten minutes.
I was trying to focus. Really.
Reading lines from my econ textbook. Highlighting words that didn’t need to be highlighted. Doing everything I could to not look at her.
But she made it impossible.
First, it was her sitting closer then? Her arm brushing mine.
Then? She stretched, arms over her head. Tank top riding up just enough to distract god.
"Hot in here," she muttered.
Pulled off her hoodie, revealing a lot of skin and zero shame.
She caught me looking.
"You can stare if you want," she said. Dead serious.
I looked away so hard I might’ve pulled a neck muscle.
> "You like me, right?"
She was close, really close.
> "That’ll have to do."
She leaned in, our lips met and this time? There was no audience.
No Lucien watching. No plan.
Just heat and her hands, on me.
Clutching my shirt. Pulling me closer. Crawling into my lap.
My brain started buffering. Her scent. Her breath. Her weight on me.
I forgot how to think.
She kissed like it was the only thing keeping her alive. Like she had something to prove.
And God, she was proving it.
My hands were on her waist. Then under her tank top. Skin soft. Warm. Dangerous.
I felt her move, guiding me...lower.
Her lips brushed my ear. "You want this?"
Rested her forehead against mine.
"...Damn it," she whispered.
"What? What’s wrong?"
She sighed then pulled back, just slightly.
"I’m supposed to be a good girl," she said softly. Like it hurt.
Then she looked me dead in the eye.
> "But I want you so bad it makes me feel sick."
I swallowed. Heart hammering.
She kissed me again — slower this time. More careful.
Then she slid off me, curled up on the couch, and picked up her textbook like she hadn’t just lit me on fire and walked away.
I just sat there, heart thundering in my chest, speechless, confused and rock hard. Oh and terrified too.
She didn’t say anything else for a while.
Just highlighted a sentence and underlined it twice.
> "You almost lost your V-card."
"...Yeah. I noticed."
She smiled without looking at me.
> "I’ll take it when I’m ready."