They never called it dating. No dinners with candlelight, no good-morning texts laced with emojis, no whispered promises in the dark. They wrote rules on the back of a takeout receipt the morning after the first night and taped it inside his kitchen cabinet like a contract signed in sweat.
No feelings.
No staying the night.
No questions about exes, families, scars that didn’t come from s*x.
Only three things mattered: when, where, and how hard.
Kai tested the edges first.
Monday afternoon, mid-quarterly review, Lena’s phone buzzed against her thigh under the conference table. She glanced down.
Bathroom. Now. Stall three.
Her pulse kicked hard enough to bruise ribs. She murmured an excuse about a migraine, slipped out while her boss droned on about projections. The hallway fel
