The moment his eyes found mine across the crowded living room, I knew I was in trouble.
It wasn’t the look of a polite host welcoming his wife’s best friend into their home. It was slow. Dark. Deliberate. The kind of look that peeled the air between us layer by layer until only heat remained.
I should have looked away. Instead, I held it.
The laughter around us faded into a dull hum, the clinking of glasses and music slipping into the background. He leaned against the doorframe in a fitted black shirt that stretched across broad shoulders, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks like he didn’t have to try. He didn’t. He already owned the room. And for a moment, I hated how much my pulse reacted to it.
Maya, my best friend, brushed past me with a bright smile, holding two bottles
