The bedroom was a battlefield of post-party carnage, a dimly lit mess of empty beer cans rolling lazily across the hardwood floor and crumpled chip bags spilling their greasy secrets onto the rug. The air was thick with the stale scent of spilled lager and the faint musk of sweat, a fitting backdrop to the chaos unfolding on the unmade bed. Dearbhla Quinn, once the untouchable queen of her small-town high school, was on all fours, her knees digging into the mattress, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her dark auburn hair clung to her sweat-dampened neck, and her nails clawed at the sheets as if they could anchor her spiraling mind. She couldn’t quite believe she was here—physically or otherwise.
Behind her, Ami Takahashi stood like a goddamn conqueror, one hand gripping Dearbhla’s hip with a possessive firmness, the other tracing a teasing path down her spine. Ami’s black hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame a smirk that was equal parts infuriating and intoxicating. Her voice, low and dripping with mockery, cut through the haze of Dearbhla’s thoughts.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the mighty Dearbhla Quinn, down on her knees for little ol’ me,” Ami purred, her tone laced with a gleeful taunt. “What would your adoring fans back home say if they could see their queen bee now, hmm? Bowing to the nerd you used to shove into lockers?”
Dearbhla’s jaw clenched, a flush of embarrassment—or maybe something hotter—crawling up her neck. She twisted her head to glare over her shoulder, green eyes flashing with defiance even as her body betrayed her with a shiver. “Shut up, Ami. You’re not half as clever as you think you are. And for the record, I’m not bowing to anyone. I’m just… repositioning.”
Ami’s laugh was sharp, a blade wrapped in velvet, and she leaned down, her lips brushing the shell of Dearbhla’s ear. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re repositioning all right. Right under me. And you’re loving every second of it, aren’t you?”
Dearbhla bit back a moan, her pride warring with the heat pooling in her core. “You wish, Takahashi. I’m only here because I’m drunk and bored. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Drunk, maybe. Bored? Not a chance.” Ami’s fingers tightened on Dearbhla’s hip, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You’ve been eye-fucking me all night, Quinn. Don’t pretend you didn’t beg for this.”
The accusation stung, mostly because it wasn’t entirely wrong. Dearbhla’s mind flickered back to a month ago, to the first time she’d seen Ami at a house party just like this one. She’d been halfway through a bottle of cheap vodka, still running from the wreckage of her very public breakup back in Ireland—a scandal that had splashed her name across every gossip rag in Dublin. She’d come to Sydney to lose herself in the noise, the parties, the endless stream of faceless hookups. A year of self-destruction had turned her into a hollowed-out version of the girl who’d once ruled with an iron fist. And then there was Ami, all grown up, no longer the awkward, bespectacled girl Dearbhla had tormented in school. No, this Ami was sharp-edged, confident, with a smirk that could cut glass and a presence that filled the room. Dearbhla had hated how much she’d noticed her.
That first night, Ami had caught her staring across the crowded living room, a beer in hand, her dark eyes glinting with something predatory. “Still think you’re too good for me, Quinn?” she’d called out, loud enough for half the party to hear. Dearbhla had bristled, tossing her hair with a scoff.
“Always will be, Takahashi. Some of us don’t need to try so hard,” she’d shot back, but the words felt flimsy, and Ami’s slow, knowing grin had unnerved her. She’d spent the rest of the night dodging her, or trying to, until the alcohol and Ami’s relentless teasing had cornered her in the kitchen. One barbed exchange had led to another, and before she knew it, Ami’s hand was on her wrist, pulling her toward the bedroom with a challenge in her eyes. Dearbhla had told herself she’d only followed to prove a point. What point, exactly, she couldn’t remember now.
Back in the present, Ami’s voice snapped her out of the memory. “Where’d you go, princess? Thinking about how much you hate me while you’re trembling under my touch?” Her fingers slid lower, deliberate and maddening, and Dearbhla’s breath hitched despite herself.
“God, you’re insufferable,” Dearbhla growled, but the venom was half-hearted, undermined by the way her body arched into Ami’s control. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’ve been planning this little revenge fantasy since we were sixteen.”
Ami chuckled, the sound dark and delicious. “Oh, I’ve had plenty of fantasies about you, Quinn. But trust me, this is better than anything I could’ve dreamed up. Watching you fall apart like this? Priceless.”
Dearbhla wanted to snap back, to reclaim some shred of the upper hand, but her words dissolved into a gasp as Ami shifted, her dominance unyielding. The room spun, the mess of the party fading into irrelevance as sensation overtook her. She was a far cry from the girl who’d once commanded every room she entered, the girl who’d laughed off Ami’s quiet existence like it was beneath her notice. Now, she was unraveling, and Ami was the one holding the strings.
As the heat built to a crescendo, Dearbhla’s defiance crumbled, her body betraying her with a shudder that left her breathless and spent. She collapsed onto the mattress, her chest heaving, her mind a tangled mess of irritation and something she refused to name. Ami flopped down beside her, propped on an elbow, that infuriating smirk still firmly in place. Her dark eyes gleamed with triumph as she traced a lazy finger along Dearbhla’s jaw.
“Admit it, Quinn. You’re hooked,” Ami murmured, her voice a taunt wrapped in a promise. “You can’t stand me, but you can’t stay away either.”
Dearbhla swatted her hand away, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling, her breath still uneven. “Don’t get cocky, Takahashi. This was a one-time thing. A lapse in judgment. I’m not some toy for you to play with.”
Ami’s grin widened, and she leaned closer, her lips brushing Dearbhla’s collarbone just enough to make her tense. “Keep telling yourself that, princess. But we both know you’ll be back for more. And I’ll be waiting.”
Dearbhla glared at her, torn between the urge to shove her away and the maddening pull to close the distance. How the hell had she ended up here, tangled up with the one person she’d spent years dismissing? She didn’t have an answer, but as Ami’s smug gaze lingered, she felt the first dangerous stirrings of a craving she couldn’t ignore. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.
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