The storm rolled in after midnight, thunder cracking like a warning. Alex stood at the kitchen sink rinsing a coffee mug that didn’t need rinsing, watching rain lash the single window. The apartment smelled of wet brick and the ghost of last night’s s*x. Jordan had left before dawn, a gallery errand, he’d said, but the sleep mask still lay on his pillow like an accusation. She hadn’t touched it.
Lightning flashed. The lights flickered once, twice, then steadied. She felt the dare before she saw it: a folded square of heavy paper wedged beneath the salt shaker. Midnight ink, his handwriting barely disguised.
**Dare #7: Shower with me. Now. No lights. No talking.**
Her pulse spiked. The bathroom door stood ajar, steam curling out like an invitation. She heard the water running, steady and
